#the fic is on ao3 if you want to read it but its rated M so yeah dldr

[knifesxedge]

ao3 links still aren’t working for me but here’s my fic for the @dangerdaysbigbang ! i did a little piece for the online event which is going live today, and you can read it on ao3 HERE or below the cut!

An Exercise in Growing Up

Rating: T

Words: 3,945

Summary: The Girl and Party (& Party’s two-year-old daughter) are ambushed by Dracs. The Girl has to protect them. Nobody liked that.

It’s comfortably warm in the Trans Am, the ancient A/C on full blast just enough to combat the late afternoon sunrays pouring in through the glass of the sunroof, windows and front windshield. The Girl is worn out after spending most of the day playing with Charlie and the other kids at Gravel Gertie’s in Zone Five, sleepy the way a cat is when in a similar patch of sunlight. She’s half-dozing in the passenger seat when Party Poison curses and jerks the steering wheel to the side, jostling the Girl’s head from its resting place on the shoulder of the leather seat.

“What? What?” she gasps, sitting up and looking around anxiously. She sees it almost immediately through the rear windshield: a blindingly white BLI patrol car kicking up dust a few miles behind the ‘Am. When she looks over and meets Party’s eye, as much as they’re trying to hide it, they actually look scared.

“I’m gonna try t’ outrun them,” they say, offering her a smile that’s more grimace than genuine. Their tone is determined, but the tremor underneath is what makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Very rarely in her sixteen years with the Fabulous Four has she seen Party frightened enough that they couldn’t bury it under several layers of artificial confidence and bravado.

Then again, she watches them glance into the rearview mirror at where their two-year-old daughter is fast asleep in her carseat, and she understands. She was that baby girl, once — though when she was that young, her family never would have taken her out in the car without at least three of them there. And as if they can hear her thoughts, Party mutters, agonized, “So stupid . Can’t believe how cocky we’ve gotten, should have never left th’ Diner without another adult. Witch, Girlie, ‘m so sorry about this.”

The Girl doesn’t look at Party’s hands white-knuckling the wheel, doesn’t glance downward at where their left ankle is encased in a hefty wrap, from when they’d sprained it badly in a firefight earlier that week. She does look at their face, though, at the deliberately calm smoothness that’s come over their expression, the resigned pinch at the corner of their mouth and in the set of their jaw.

“Party, when they catch up — “

“They won’t,” Party says firmly, but their eyes are stormy with a cocktail of regret and fear. They look in the mirror at Charlie again.

“You can barely walk,” she tries again, but Party’s head whips around to look at her.

“I won’t let them hurt you.” they say, simply. They turn back to the road, but one of their pale hands fumbles for hers, squeezing it tight. “My girls,” they murmur, a slight shake in their voice. “No, I’ll never let them hurt you.”

“Party. They’re going to catch up.” The Girl doesn’t let herself sound afraid, just calm and reasonable. Party is prone to dramatics and even more so to martyrdom, but she can’t let them do this — not now, not in front of their daughter, not when their ankle is in shreds and she’s able and willing. “I— I want you to stay in the car with Charlie.”

Party opens their mouth to protest, but she talks over them, the way Jet and Kobra do when they need to make a point without Party interrupting. “I’m in fighting condition, you’re not. An’ Charlie needs you.”

Party’s eyes stray to their sleeping daughter again, sorrow clouding their expression, along with a wistfulness and a fierce, protective love that makes the Girl’s heart ache. She’s seen them look at her that same way more than once. The most memorable instance was when she was five, right before the clap that had landed her in the back of a BLI patrol car. They’d tucked her under the table of the Diner’s booth, pressed her favorite toy into her arms, and said quietly, Stay hidden. We’ll be right back.

Party’s mouth trembles. “But you’re still jus’ a kid, Girlie. I’m th’ adult here, I’m responsible for both ‘f you.”

“I’m no younger than you were when y’all first took me in,” the Girl counters. “An’ you’ve put your life on th’ line for me so many times since then. Just — let me protect you, now. Stay with Charlie.”

Party swears, hands flexing on the steering wheel and the gear shift, but they set their lips in a firm line and take a deep breath, letting it out in a long, shaky sigh. Their voice only wobbles a bit when they concede, quietly, “Okay, Jackrabbit.”

The Girl kisses their cheek, and reaches into the glovebox for the spare raygun the crew keeps there. Bright purple, spangled with various small stars, lightning bolts and a big smiley face sticker. It’s hers in everything but name — mostly because none of the Fab Four like thinking that she’s in need of a weapon of her own now. Although it’s been years since Ghoul first found her and they swore to keep her safe, she supposes it feels like failure. She hefts the raygun in her left hand — her shooting hand.

The patrol car that was in the near distance a few minutes ago has gained speed and is cruising into shooting range. Party looks pensive, scanning the highway ahead of them like they’re looking for something — and they find it. As soon as a building appears on the horizon, Party floors the gas and yanks the wheel left, and the car skids off the road and into the open desert.

“Hopefully the dust will give us a little cover t’ get t’ that warehouse,” they yell over the roar of sand under the wheels. “Girlie, are you sure — oh, hey, hey, princess, nothin’ t’ worry about, ‘s all okay.” Their voice immediately smooths out, going gentle and soothing as Charlie stirs awake at the clunking of uneven terrain making the ‘Am pitch and groan. She starts to look around anxiously, whimpering like she’s gearing up to start crying for real. The Girl twists in her seat, waving her hands at Charlie in hopes to distract her a bit, gently patting her knee.

“Pretty bumpy, huh?” she calls, loud enough that she hopes Charlie will be able to hear her. Charlie looks disconcerted, but nods. “You okay?”

Charlie nods again, clumsily signing, “Want Oya.” She looks unsure and a little frightened, and the Girl realizes it must be because Party looks so scared. Party seems to realize it too, because they suddenly square their shoulders and force a smile for her.

“Oya’s driving right now, anata,” Party says, tone light. “We’ll stop in jus’ a moment, okay?”

“Where going?” Charlie asks, hands carefully mimicking the motions her parents have shown her, and then, round little face creasing up, “Go home now? Please?”

“Not just yet, sweetheart,” Party says, apparently watching her motions in the rearview. Their worried eyes have flicked back to the desert in front of the car and the rapidly shrinking distance to the warehouse ahead, but they still answer in that same cheerful tone. “Quick pit stop, okay, won’t be long. ‘S okay, babygirl, everything’s okay.”

“I just have to do something real quick, okay? An’ then we’ll all go home,” the Girl adds. Charlie nods solemnly, eyes big and tiny mouth a little worried line.

“Be okay?” She asks, little pointer finger carefully adding the question mark at the end.

“Promise I will,” the Girl says, and holds out her pinky to loop it around Charlie’s. “I’ll be fast.”

Party jerks the wheel one last time, whipping the Trans Am around the corner of the warehouse and out of sight under the shade of the tall concrete walls. They throw the car into park, flinging open the driver’s side door and limping as quickly as they can around to Charlie’s side and scooping her into their arms.

“We’re gonna stay here, okay?” they murmur to her, crawling into the backseat as smoothly as is possible with an injured ankle and a two-year-old in their arms. “An’ we gotta be quiet. Can you do that for me, darling?”

“Okay, Oya,” Charlie lisps, but her eyes are wide and worried. She has no way of understanding what’s going on, but she can tell that Party’s afraid. She wraps her small arms around Party’s neck, and they lean up against the seat to prop her between their knees and chest.

The Girl watches them for a moment. Party brushes a few fine strands of dark brown hair behind Charlie’s ear, careful not to jostle her bright orange hearing aids, looking at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. They kiss the top of her head, and then curl themself protectively around her. Party looks up at the Girl, then, eyes glittering with worry. “Be careful, Girlie. Destroya, please, you have to come back safe.”

“I will,” the Girl promises, again, voice quiet. There’s no time to say everything she wants to say to them — the figure who has always loomed so large and infallible in her childhood memories and who now looks so small and fragile, cradling her little sister’s head to their chest. Instead, she just puts her hand on their shoulder, leaving it there for a long moment, and says, “Stay hidden. I’ll be right back.”

She closes the door before she can hear their reply.

When she rounds the corner again, purple raygun raised but not yet aimed, she sees the patrol car has slowed in its approach. It’s prowling forwards, cutting a wide berth around the warehouse like a buzzard circling an injured rabbit. As soon as the Girl appears from behind the wall it zeroes in on her, heading in her direction. That’s good. She wants to keep it away from the Trans Am, if she can. If worst comes to worst, Party is still capable of defending themself, but— with a heavy limp and Charlie there, she really, really doesn’t want to find out how far they’d have to push themself to manage it. I can protect them, she thinks. I have to protect them.

The shining white sedan has purred to a halt, now, silent and still, facing her. There’s a long moment of impasse, but at long last, with a crack, the doors burst open and four Dracs pour out of the car, brandishing rayguns that match the gleaming white sheen of the patrol car’s finish.

The Girl ducks as a sizzling blast slices through the air right where her head had been. Her feet catch in the sand, and she tries to roll with the momentum like she’s seen Kobra do, but goes down heavy. From the ground, she fires wildly back, shot after shot going wide, until finally, one errant beam finds its target in a Drac’s throat, and it falls.

She hauls herself upright. One of the white-clad figures is circling her, the other two hanging back— probably what passes for sharpshooters by Drac standards.

She scrambles backwards in the hopes that a small heap of warehouse junk — a crate, some empty oil drums, and a whole mess of stinking tarp and tangled barbed wire — might offer her some makeshift cover. A few more potshots from her pursuers scorch the side of the bleached wood and lend the smell of acrid smoke to the stench of sun-roasted garbage.

She peers over the top of the barrels, crusted in who-knows-what, and sees one of the closer Dracs advancing on her position, zombie-like determination in every step as it slowly gets closer. She aims, and fires, and though she misses her intended target — the approaching Draculoid — one of her shots clips and manages to blow a tire on the front end of the dracmobile, which explodes with a loud bang! Even as she jumps, startled, tire shrapnel flies everywhere, causing one of the Dracs next to the vehicle to stumble. Her next two desperate shots graze the incapacitated Drac’s throat, and blood starts to gush from the nicked artery, the Drac collapsing to the ground with a horrible gurgling noise, and catches the closest Drac in the right shoulder. Aim for center mass, she can almost hear Jet telling her. ‘Specially if y’ ain’t good ‘t hittin’ yer target. May not be real Merciful, but ‘f ‘s you ‘r them — take those fuckers down, Girlie. She gets the one closest to her again, melted polyester smoking around the hole she just put in its chest, but even still, it keeps coming, gripping one of the barrels in both hands and flinging it aside like it’s made of styrofoam. She fires wildly, another raygun bolt meeting its target in the Drac’s side and starting to leak dark, coagulated blood.

She wants to scream in terror, but it’s at that moment that her legs are swept out from under her with a swift, hard kick, arms restrained behind her back by an unyielding grip that she can tell from the telltale scratch of cheap fabric against her skin is the other Drac that she hadn’t even realized had disappeared from view.

As she squirms fruitlessly in the Drac’s grasp, she can see its partner starting to take a curious, predatory path around the corner of the warehouse — toward where the Trans Am is hidden, and Party and Charlie with it. She does scream out loud, then, biting at her attacker’s arms and clawing blindly behind her at where she can only assume the eyeholes of the mask are. She can feel the tear of skin beneath her fingernails, taste blood on her tongue, but the Drac doesn’t even flinch, almost like she’s being held by a marble statue, except a statue’s grip wouldn’t start to tighten, around her ribs and around her throat until the world starts to get fuzzy and dark at the edges, blurring in and out. The second Drac has just reached where the shadow of the warehouse stretches out over the sand, and its head tilts in apparent interest. She can just barely see the way it reaches for its weapon, other hand reaching out to stroke over the tarnished bumper of the Trans Am. The Girl lets out a wordless cry of panicked frustration, squirming in the Drac’s iron hold. To her surprise, it suddenly breaks, though she knows her own strength is no match for the relentless, unstoppable doggedness of the undead; the Drac jerks backwards as if burned — or electrocuted by an errant shock. In their holsters, the Dracs’ rayguns sizzle and go dead, low battery light blinking a warning for a second before it too goes dark. Freed from the Drac’s grip, the Girl tucks into a ball as she’s dropped unceremoniously to the ground, rolling in the dust as her grasping fingers meet the grip of her own dropped raygun, and she smoothly comes up into a crouch to fire two dead-on shots that leave her opponents crumpled in the sand. For a moment, she just kneels there in the dirt, heartbeat pounding like a headache behind her eyes. As she stumbles gracelessly to her feet a second time, she pants for breath, adrenaline and panic still singing in her veins. The quiet ringing in her ears subsides as her breathing starts to slow, chest no longer heaving, hand twitching tighter in its hold on her weapon involuntarily. She looks at the bodies strewn around her, unnaturally white against the natural earthy tones of the desert landscape, black holes scorching their surfaces like mottling on a rattlesnake. She shudders, taking a deep, steadying gasp of air that tastes like blaster smoke.

The Girl whirls around at the sound of uneven, clomping footsteps in the sand, muzzle of her raygun jerking up on instinct, but instead of the white jacket of a Draculoid, she’s instead greeted by Party, limping as fast as they can across the stretch of dust between them with Charlie balanced on their hip, beating at their shoulder with her tiny fists in a demand to be put down.

Party lets Charlie wriggle to the ground and flings both arms around the Girl. At the same time, the Girl can feel Charlie’s small arms wrap around her knees, fingers fisting in her cargoes.

“Oh, god, Girlie,” they say, voice trembling, face hidden in her shoulder. Their grip is vice-like as they start to shudder, going weak and limp in her embrace.

“‘M okay. ‘M okay,” the Girl says, and she’s not sure which of them she’s reassuring.

Party lets out another shuddering breath, hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head against their chest, the same way they’d been holding Charlie only minutes earlier — the way the Girl could remember being held when she was Charlie’s age. “Brave girl,” they murmur, voice strained, and squeeze her even tighter.

And then they’re back in the car, speeding along the cracked, dusty highway, almost as if nothing had ever interrupted them. Almost. Party radios the crew back at the Diner, a note of steel forced into their tone despite the still-present tension in their shoulders.

Even Ghoul’s steadfast nature doesn’t hold up in the wake of the danger they were facing— and when the clear, unfiltered fear in his voice seeps across the line, a mix of stress and raw bleeding-heart sentiment causes Party’s voice to pitch up to previously undiscovered levels of falsetto. The words come faster and faster, terror and relief and reassurances spilling over each other and getting tangled up in the back-and-forth of conversation, if the constant din of talking over each other can even be called that.

Charlie, upon hearing her father’s voice over the line, reaches out insistently for the transmitter and babbles until she’s handed the radio, which barely fits in her clumsy two-hand grip. She chatters cheerfully across the waves, mercifully unaware of the severity of the situation they had just narrowly escaped. The Girl tunes it all out, looking out the window at the endless stretch of sand and golden-blue sky streaking by in ribbons of light and color past the dust-clouded glass.

When the Trans Am creaks to a halt in front of the Diner, obviously unhappy with the strain off-roading had put on its engine, their crew is waiting for them under the shade of the defunct gas station carpark.

Ghoul gets to them first, crushing Charlie between his chest and Party’s as he wraps them in a desperate embrace. His hand brushes over Party’s cheek, landing in their hair, and then sweeps down to smooth a thumb against Charlie’s eyebrow. He murmurs a few words that the Girl can’t quite make out, but she’s pretty sure they aren’t English. She doesn’t even have time to open her mouth before Jet has her in their arms. “Niñita. Por dios.”

She clings back, and lets herself feel like the scared little girl she’d try to bury deep down the moment her family was threatened. Still — “Estoy bien, mana. Me siento bien,” she insists. Jet lets out a breath, nods, and holds her by both shoulders, just looking at her for a moment. Her eyes soften, the slight crows’ feet at the corners deepening as her eyebrows knit.

“When did you grow up, nena,” Jet murmurs, less like a question and more like a quiet wonderment. She shakes her head. “Playing hero. Y’ got too much Party in ya. Witch alive.”

Ghoul appears, then, out of her periphery — apparently having finished fussing over Party and Charlie, at least for now — and he and Jet trade places. His eyes are soft and scared, hand coming up to brush over her cheek, thumb smoothing over her eyebrow, just the way he’d done to Charlie. “My brave girl,” he says, voice choked, before he pulls her into a tight hug. Her arms come up to hold him back just as tightly. “You shouldn’t ‘ve had t’ do that, Bunny,” he murmurs, and then adds, “‘M sorry.”

The Girl squeezes his arm as she pulls back. “‘S th’ Zones. Gotta grow up fast here.”

Ghoul frowns, but doesn’t seem to have any rebuttal to that statement, though he obviously doesn’t like it. Instead, he brushes his thumb over her cheek again and says, “C’mon inside. Y’ need somethin’ for th’ shock.” And he leaves it at that.

She doesn’t find Kobra until much later. He’s on the roof, smoking a cigarette and staring out at the darkening desert with his feet dangling over the edge when she pulls herself up the access ladder.

“Y’ gonna share?” she asks as she drops down to sit next to him, gravel crunching.

He snorts, takes another drag, and lets it pour out of his mouth and nose like a dragon. “Yeah, right.”

They sit together in a long silence she doesn’t feel the need to fill. It’s why he’s her favorite — though she’d never tell any of the others that. He never minces words, or feels the need to speak when there’s nothing to say.

“Y’ know why they’re really upset, don’t ya?” Kobra says eventually. Smoke haloes around his head and fingers, and hovers in the dusky air.

The Girl shrugs, though she’s got a fair guess.

He stubs out the last bit of his cig against the siding of the Diner. “All ‘f us wanted you to be able t’ be a kid longer than the rest ‘f us ever got to. An’ even more than that, you were in danger, it’s that you had t’ put your life on th’ line to protect your family. Y’ had t’ grow up. An’ so yeah, sure, Party was scared. But I think they would rather’ve been able t’ just do something, fight for you both, than t’ send their baby girl out t’ the front lines. ‘S why everybody’s so shaken up.”

“I told ‘em. They were my age when y’all brought me home. You were even younger,” she argues, but there’s a heaviness in her chest. She knows Kobra is right, and even more so, she feels the same way. Facing down a squad car of Dracs, she’d wanted to wail for someone to protect her. But in that moment, she wasn’t the one that needed protecting the most.

“Someone had t’ do it,” she adds, halfheartedly.

Kobra sighs, lights a new smoke that he pinches between his pointer and middle fingers. “Yeah,” he says, simply, roughly, and clamps it in the corner of his mouth.

Silence falls again, save for the whistle of desert wind and the faint sizzle of the cherry of Kobra’s nic stick. The Girl stares out at the horizon, where the tiny cluster of faint lights indicates the ever-present threat of Better Living. Her fingers itch for a cigarette, though she’s never smoked (and probably never will, if Kobra has his way). The smell is comforting, though, and she inhales it with every breath she takes.

“Do me a favor?” Kobra says suddenly. He looks scrutinizingly at her, cig still dangling from his mouth. “You were brave t’day. Y’ saved yourself an’ y’ saved your family. I’m proud ‘f ya. Don’t be brave again. Unless y’ have to. Okay?”

The Girl remembers how she’d felt that morning leaving the Diner with Party and Charlie— it’s like looking into the memory of a different person. She breathes deep, again seeking the ever-familiar scent of nicotine smoke. “Yeah,” she says, forever his little echo, and holds out her pinky.

Kobra loops his with hers, eyes already fixed back on the lavender-grey line of where sand meets sky. “Good girl.”

[arty-platypi]

a couple of doodles for my Roz x Vontra fic and cover ideas for said fic. i chose to use the texture of the brush to help with the "shading" in the mini illustrations but now that i'm seeing it here on tumblr the image quality brings it down lole. Haven't been drawing them too much but it's just because I keep writing for them, ha...

[newtkelly]

do you have any fave long bucktommy oneshots?

thank you for asking, i absolutely do! here are my long bucktommy oneshot fic recs. these fics are 10k-30k words (admittedly there are a few exceptions, but those feel longer than they actually are), and they are posted in one chapter. listed in order of published date. enjoy!

i sing of bitter earth by @middyblue [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-07-2024 | Words: 12,037 | Rated T

In his head, on the job, he can walk away from it. The underworld that lies in wait inside him stays behind and it’s just him and the rope, the hose, the halligan; give him a puzzle to solve and a caller to rescue and it’s like everything is air, rosy and clear and fragrant as an open field.

The Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve floods. Taylor falls; Tommy falls; Buck falls.

this was one of the first 9-1-1 fics to make a serious impression on me. i was, and still am, so taken by the imagery, the action, and the thematic storytelling. it bravely leans into being an emergency-based fic, and it genuinely made me want to tell a story like that, too. the prose and the characterization and the taylor/tommy dynamic are all so brilliant. definitely one of my most formative, influential, and cherished 9-1-1 fics.

an outlier that should not be counted by @dadvans [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-11-2024 | Words: 7,429 | Rated E

Buck knows a lot of random trivia. Tommy falls in love with him one fact at a time.

okay, i know this the shortest thing on this list, but listen. where would we all be without this fic? there is a reason it's sitting pretty at 22k hits. could honestly be the origin of many of the fandom's core bt dynamic headcanons. a delightful, witty read that captures the early excitement of bt like lightning in a bottle.

awful quiet here since love fell asleep by @cecilyv & @liminalmemories21 [ao3 profiles x & x]

Published: 05-14-2024 | Words: 15,632 | Rated M

The Buck/Tommy break up/make up fic that literally no one was asking for but me. Things don’t always work out, the first time around.

"We'll be friends?" Because this is the right move, the smart move.

There's an expression he can't read that crosses Tommy's face, but then he nods, and sticks out his hand for Buck to shake. "Of course."

Buck hates it. But he made the bed, it's his to lie in. They shake on it.

the original break up fic. this is an amazing buck character study that honestly feels a bit prophetic in retrospect. i remember how i felt reading this, so heartbroken but so obsessed with the way buck navigated through understanding his own loneliness. it's absolutely joyful.

something ‘bout a boat by @swiftietartt [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-30-2024 | Words: 9,825 | Rated E

Tommy introduces Evan to his friends.

this is my one of my most cherished fics, i honestly cannot articulate how intensely i feel about it or do its brilliance much justice. begging you to read it if you haven't. to this beautiful author, should you ever write buck and tommy again, please know i will be first in line to read it. this story is charming beyond belief. this version of tommy is not one that you read about often, and i fucking love that. in this story, tommy is aloof but well-loved, has a delightful circle of true friends, and he has a fucking boat. there is not that much buck in this story, though he is omnipresent in a way. it builds and builds up to them finally getting to be alone below deck, and it's all the more delicious because of the wait. fabulously unique, there is really nothing else like it.

a full-body workout by @persiflager [ao3 profile]

Published: 07-02-2024 | Words: 7,901 | Rated E

When Tommy turns back to Eddie he finds Eddie giving him a knowing look. “Laundry and meal prep, huh?”

another one that is so carefully written that it feels longer than it is. one of the things i love so much about this story is the trio dynamic. the evolved friendship that eddie has with buck and tommy is, at least for me, best depicted here than anywhere else i've ever seen it. and, on top of that, there is just something so appealing to me about spending an entire day wanting to fuck so bad, but your friend is over so you've gotta practice patience. the anticipation that builds is really nuanced, it's truly a perfectly told slice of life.

the suffering of evan buckley('s sex drive) by @sugarpenchant [ao3 profile]

Published: 07-16-2024 | Words: 10,513 | Rated E

Tommy has been gone fighting fires for a month as vital air support, which would be fine—except for the fact that Buck has finally gotten a taste of sex with Tommy only for it to be cruelly whisked away. Buck finally gets his chance to join the firefighting efforts on the front lines and hopefully, someday before the world ends, ideally, he’ll get to see Tommy again.

There is a chance that Buck is being a little overdramatic about the whole thing, but a month is a really long time to go without the wonder of your brand new boyfriend.

posted for day 2 prompt of five alarm fest: after a dry spell

i need you to understand exactly one thing. this is the hottest fic ever. no like, this is the hottest fic i've read in years. buck, having just gotten dicked down for the first few times loses a summer of lovin' to a wildfire. tommy's on the frontlines, and what does buck do? he joins the ranks just for the possibility to be physically closer to him (and his dick). the world-building is fantastic for its length, particularly with the inclusion of lone star characters. when they finally see each other that first time, goddamn. the way they want each other but can't do a thing is a tease like nothing else. but where there's a will, there's a way. the fuck they manage to fit in between fighting the wildfire is a high that buck is able to ride (pun intended) for a while. i'm literally so addicted to this fic. erotic perfection.

knee deep in the passenger seat by @firstaudrina [ao3 profile]

Published: 08-08-2024 | Words: 9,039 | Rated E

What Buck liked best was that first thrill — a smile returned, a flirtatious joke — and then the heated next-next-next, all the things he still had to learn there.

aka Buck begins (in bed).

this ends with bucktommy, but it's a lot more than that and that isn't the draw of this fic. this is for the evan buckley lovers. this is like going to your favorite porn star's profile and watching a snippet of every single thing they've ever starred in. it's so good, it's so hot, it's so complicated. a great and very unique read.

bop it, twist it, pull it by @al-the-remix [ao3 profile]

Published: 08-14-2024 | Words: 21,642 | Rated E

“Hey!”

He doesn’t mean to yell, but Tommy still jumps a little beneath him. “Jesus, Evan, what–”

“You have a fucking dick piercing,” Buck half proclaims, half accuses. This is what Tommy has been holding out on all this time?

or

Buck discovers more about Tommy (and himself) through Tommy's piercings.

there's something about this fic that fits so perfectly into my fantasy of tommy. there's this punkishness about him in my head, and maybe that is a feeling that carried over from seeing pictures of lfj as a young, bulky, pierced scoundrel, but this story fits that image. super hot, a wealth of edginess.

fever's high with the lights down low by @kirkaut [ao3 profile]

Published: 09-07-2024 | Words: 11,731 | Rated E

No one has ever done this for him before. He didn’t even know how badly he wanted someone to do this - to think of him this way, to not only shoulder some of his weight but to want to - until this moment. Most people he’s dated have tended to give him a wide berth after a long, grueling shift, and he’d always thought that was what he wanted. It had been a little lonely, sure, but there wasn’t much he typically did afterwards that wasn’t refuel and rest.

Maybe he should have known better when it comes to Evan, who had jumped feet first into this relationship and never once looked back. Evan, who has worked these kinds of shifts himself and understands Tommy in a way that none of his exes ever have before.

Evan, who pours the love out of himself like it's as easy as breathing.

i remember reading this story for the first time. i was on vacation in a hotel bed, and i just felt so luxurious and indulgent getting to read this unbelievably hot, heartfelt story in utter comfort. it's the perfect analogy for how this fic makes you feel. it's pwp at its honest best.

engine purr by @epiphainie [ao3 profile]

Published: 09-16-2024 | Words: 15,010 | Rated E

“Oh! Yes. My car, my Jeep, I mean,” Buck said, gaze falling on the hands reaching for a rag. “It just sputtered and died on me right outside of town and there was no reception… I-I didn’t know what to do so I just… walked.” He swallowed and looked up again. “I thought I could call Triple A? Or maybe 9-1-1?”

The guy looked at Buck. There was a slight furrow to his brows, a tinge of bemusement in his eyes. The lines of his face were sharp and straight everywhere, but well-worn too, making Buck realize he was older than him by at least a decade and some change, if not more.

“That’s not for 9-1-1. And Triple A costs an arm and a leg if you don’t have a membership,” he said in a languid voice. “Lucky for you, though, you walked into this town’s one-and-only repair shop.”

buck takes a road trip before his new job, the jeep breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a small-town mechanic helps him out

my friend is a genius. okay full disclosure, au is not always my thing, and never my preference. i know that is a very unpopular opinion, but i think i am just very picky about it - but when it's done well, it can't be beat. this fic is fucking amazing and the age difference is a thing to behold. i always find myself so immersed in mimi's stories, particularly the dialogue. as i was reading this fic, i would find myself deep in one of buck and tommy's conversations and be so struck by how tangible and accurately articulated the characters are. in my own writing, i drag my feet over dialogue, never really knowing if something is too long-winded, or far too short. that happens to be mimi's strength, especially here - their conversations are perfectly paced, chatty, and true. beyond that, i could probably gush just as much over how hot the tension, build-up, and well-earned sex is in this fic. my fiancé called it the hottest bt she's ever read. by the way, even as i write this little blurb, my mind is saturated with images of tommy's apartment over his shop, and that is a true testament to the visceral and descriptive writing that is achieved here. i will wrap this up by saying i truly cannot wait until the next part in this story is posted! god, i love good writing.

in a yellow wood by @cecilyv & @liminalmemories21 [ao3 profiles x & x]

Published: 11-10-2024 | Words: 9,847 | Rated E

It’s been three years since the break-up when Tommy saves a family and it upends his life.

He’s paying more attention to explaining what the various levers and controls do than he is to what’s going on in the hangar and his head whips around when he hears a familiar voice saying. “Kam, the whole point of leaving my kid with you was to not take him to work.”

this is one of two break up/make up fics that i hold very dear. there are things that ring very true about it, and things that are legitimately haunting. they're apart for years - right from the jump, that is a sobering revelation. buck has a baby. buck doesn't look like he used to - his hair is shorter, he has a slighter frame. his life, his body, his world has changed. but he wears the maturity well, and he wears fatherhood well, and tommy wants in and he fucking earns a seat at the table. he earns love, he earns a family. it's a fucking beautiful rosy picture of what a future could be. it's so special, and so healing.

closet conversations by @eyesonstars-feetonground [ao3 profile]

Published: 11-12-2024 | Words: 10,599 | Rated M

Six months is a long time to stick around if he thought you’d dump him.

OR

After his boyfriend dumps him, Evan Buckley goes on a date, makes a new friend, has some conversations, and realizes he's queer. Tommy haunts him every step of the way.

this break up/make up is a triumph. very, very special to me. my favorite thing about this story is that it is a love letter to queer media and culture. this fic grabs one of the loosest threads of buck and tommy's canon relationship and pulls and pulls at it, taking a closer look at what it means for buck to date and fuck a guy for six months but not be able to correct some girl that he was on a date (for his six month anniversary, no less), or correct maddie that he isn't gay. it's one of so many things that deserves closer analyzation, and it's done so brilliantly here. buck and queerness go so, so well together - i am desperate for more carefully constructed analyses and stories like this one.

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 9 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 11k oof

A/N: HELLO GUYS!!!! Ooof I rushed to finish this one and it got SO FUCKING LOOONG. It took a little longer than expected, but as I said on Tumblr, my pregnant sister was hospitalized this week. Not only did I accompany her hospitalization but I was also not in the mood to write lol but everything is fine now! She was discharged and the baby is safe. My lil niece wanted to be a pisces real bad for some reason lmaooo not yet bbygirl stay there a little longer 🤚 Also!!!!! Dear reader Em made this incredible art of Ruby!! I got so shocked what 😭😭 someone was willing to make art of a fic of mine?? That's so cool!! Ruby looks so hot in their interpretation!! EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU EM 🫂🫂🫂 @anesthesia-4rizzle Anyways, let me shut up this chapter is already long enough lol Enjoy!! <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

The scepter was lifeless yet again when you took it in your hands.

You didn’t really want to, scared of it starting to burn once again. Now that adrenaline had completely ran off, you understood that Alucard was right; you had, in fact, some sort of fever. Your forehead was covered by a thin layer of sweat and you felt unexpectedly hot, given the chilly night air. Your limbs also felt strangely weak as if you’d done some tiring exercise.

And your chest…

You remembered how your chest – your heart – seemed to burn with these three dead vampires, too. Burning you from within.

You wondered if you’d have burned with them if you kept holding it for much longer.

To your great relief, nothing strange happened when you touched the scepter again. It was exactly on the same spot you had dropped it.

Alucard knelt down near the burnt bodies. Smoke still steamed from them. He had a deep, serious frown in his face.

“Did you read the inscriptions of the scepter out loud?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No.” You looked down as Alucard got up and approached you again. “I didn’t do anything. I was just… scared. And angry.”

Alucard observed the scepter with the same frown. He touched the sun symbol softly.

“It’s still warm.” He mumbled to himself. “This scepter, for some reason, seems to be reacting to your feelings.”

You lifted your gaze to his face for the first time in a surprised expression.

That made a lot of sense.

You were frightened when you first held it. Your head was running with similar intense emotions when this strange reaction happened again. Maybe he was right… the scepter needed to be fueled by strong emotions to release its magic, whatever it was. Perhaps it didn’t even need to be you specifically, but anyone going through something similar.

You inhaled before asking – and Heavens, were you tired of asking this same question over and over again:

“Do you have any idea of what might’ve happened?”

You weren’t brave enough to look down at the corpses again, but Alucard got the message.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment; his shoulders dropped a bit as he crossed his arms. He looked frustrated.

“I hate not knowing what’s happening as much as you do,” he confessed. “But this doesn’t feel like Speaker magic, although we’ll have to check with a real Speaker before jumping to conclusions. And it’s not fire, either.” He pressed his lips together in a thoughtful expression. “It is Sun. The scepter either has the ability to somehow store sunlight, or it can replicate it.”

You nodded. There was no other explanation: the vampires burned as if they were, indeed, standing under the sunlight. You had seen Richter’s fire magic; although it was unnaturally blue, his flames weren’t different from regular fire. They burned, but they didn’t provide light as much as the scepter did at that moment.

Alucard held his chin. He looked at nowhere in particular.

“Sekhmet is the daughter of the Egyptian Sun god, Amun-Ra. She’s related to the Sun in many ways.”

You looked down at the scepter again.

“Do you think this belonged to her?”

He narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t look Egyptian. You didn’t find it at the Egyptian gallery, either. Though it might not mean much, since the palace wasn’t all too well organized.” He dropped his arms to the sides of his body once again. “Didn’t you say you were translating the writings to our alphabet? Can I have a look at it?”

You hesitated.

The paper was safely folded and stored inside the pocket of your vest. It was the first thing you took from the floor as soon as you stepped into the alley. You wrote it with the intention of Alucard reading it in the first place.

And yet – you didn’t want to show it anymore. At least not at that moment.

Your mind was burning, and it had nothing to do with magic this time. You were overwhelmed by a number of different things; the strong emotions you felt, this new discovery involving the scepter, the sheer frustration of not knowing exactly was going on with you…

...And the hug. Heavens, the hug.

You had stopped crying. Adrenaline had ran off. Now you could think with clarity – and the more you thought about the intimacy you shared with Alucard mere minutes ago, the more embarrassed you felt. Not because you didn’t like it… well, perhaps you felt this way because you liked it. 

Why were you feeling that way? It wasn’t the first time Alucard witnessed your vulnerability first hand. Oh… in fact, that was the reason. He had witnessed this vulnerability too many times in the span of 24 hours.

You felt weak. You felt like a nuisance. You felt like a child that had to be taken care of constantly.

That is not how you wanted Alucard – or anyone for that matter – to perceive you. But how could that be different when all you did the entire time you’d met them was getting hurt?

You desperately needed to avert his attention elsewhere. You needed him to stop looking at you for a moment, to focus somewhere else; you wanted to slide away from his view, to be nothing but an afterthought at the back of his mind. His gentle gaze burned. His soft touch burned. His scent which already permeated your clothes burned. Everything about him burned.

It burned in a different way than it did with Drolta or Erzsebet, however – because you didn’t hate him. Not at all. Alucard had shown nothing but respect and worry towards you.

And yet, it burned anyway, was overwhelming anyway, and that was disorienting. That was scary. You didn’t feel like you had the right to like it.

So you avoided his gaze once again and held the scepter tightly.

“Did everything go well with the Revolutionary Commune?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“...Yes,” Alucard clearly did not understand why you changed subjects so suddenly.

You nodded. “So I think this can wait for now. Can’t it?”

Alucard hesitated once again. “Ruby…”

“Please.” You reunited all of your will to not sound fragile anymore. You were tired of being fragile. “Erzsebet and her army are coming to Paris. This entire city needs to prepare. I know you already wasted way too much time with me. We should focus on what’s more important now.”

“You’re not a waste of time, Ruby.”

Your heart tightened.

Please, don’t be so kind to me. Don’t make me feel this way right now.

“B-But I’m right anyway. You know I’m right. Whatever is going on with me or this scepter – it’s not relevant anymore, not now that they retrieved the mummy.”

He kept silent for long seconds, which made you hold your breath with apprehension. Finally, Alucard sighed.

“Alright. We should go.” You almost sighed in relief. “Their headquarters have plenty of accommodations where you can rest in–“

“No!”

You finally looked at him again. You didn’t expect to blurt that out like this, but it escaped anyway. Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You already felt heat creep in your cheeks.

“I don’t want to rest, I want to help. I’m not tired.”

He tilted his head to the side only slightly. A tiny, not-so-focused part of your brain remarked that this little quirk of his made him look like a curious owl. “You haven’t slept properly in three days and you have a high fever.”

“You haven’t slept, either. And the fever’s cooling down.” Why did they still insist in worrying about your physical condition? You shook your leg impatiently. “There must be something I can do, right? Anything.”

Anything to stop me from thinking about my healing condition and my unknown past and this strange scepter and my fear of being taken by Drolta again and remembering my old scars and to stop myself from wishing you’d hug me again right now and never let me go.

Alucard didn’t look sure about that yet.

You felt apprehensive and nervous and impatient.

You scooped the floor with your eyes quickly. Stepping away for a moment, you grabbed something on the floor before running towards him again.

You lifted the red string to his eye level.

“Do you still have yours?”

Alucard blinked. Then, he let another tired sigh and… smiled. That tiny smile he let slip when he thought you were acting funny.

He took his piece of red string from inside his coat.

“Care to help?”

You leaned the scepter on your chest, letting it go for a while, and took the string in your hands. You tied it around his right wrist while remembering that he could tie it himself very well – he had shown he could before – but chose to ask for help anyway and- well I guess this doesn’t mean anything.

Alucard tied your red string around your right wrist, too.

He held it softly for a second longer than necessary.

“If you feel anything strange, let me know.” Alucard asked. You nodded.

“I will.”

He patted your shoulder softly. “Come on.”

You followed him shortly, relieved that he wasn’t looking at you anymore – and, at the same time, desperately wishing he was. 

In less than two hours, the peaceful Parisian night descended into chaos.

Multiple guards ran through the streets on horseback, spreading the warning in loud voices, awakening the citizens from their sleep. Windows and doors were opened, confused and dazed heads peeking from them, trying to understand what was happening. The urgency of their voices made hearts beat faster and apprehension fill the air. Husbands locked their wives inside their houses; mothers tried to calm down their scared children.

Their message was clear: every healthy man was being summoned to defend the city. 

Soon, the Place de la Concorde was packed with a confused crowd. They wore a strange mix of pajamas and coats to protect them from the chilly night air; most faces, still puffy from sleep. Confused and anxious conversations hovered over the crowd. Mere hours ago, the last king of France had been executed on that same square. The platform of the guillotine was still set up. No one expected that another historical – and apocalyptical – event would unravel so soon.

At last, Robespierre stood up on the platform, and the entire crowd went silent. You didn’t know exactly who that man was, but he was certainly very respected. 

“My brothers and sisters,” he started, his voice rising over any other. “I summoned you all here tonight to bring appalling news. Yesterday, we won one more battle against the monarchy that chained us under their feet for years. Today, we face another great enemy. Our city is being threatened by foreign forces that want to lock us in chains once again…”

You doubted this Robespierre had any idea of who Erszebet Bathory truly was, but he wasn’t far from the truth… at least when it came down to you. The most positive side of you hoped the Vampire Messiah would forget about you now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy (as morbid and wrong as it sounded), but another part of you was almost certain that she wouldn’t… be it for a plausible reason or her plain possessiveness over you. Erzsebet didn’t like to lose anything. She was like a spoiled kid who never let go of her favorite toy… and you’d been Erzsebet’s favorite toy for as long as you could remember.

You zoned out for a moment, not paying attention to much of Robespierre’s speech. Every pair of eyes was focused on him. Men and women, curious teenagers, homeless children – in fact, there were homeless people of all ages… their eyes filled with growing apprehension and fear of the menace the man on the platform described. If Erzsebet and her court succeeded, there were little chances of hope for them. Erzsebet would rejoice in their fear. She would bathe in the blood spilled. She would murder the ones she deemed unattractive and feed on the women she deemed attractive; she would “share” with her court. She would turn the ones she deemed worthy into vampires against their will. The men would either serve as entertainment or as slaves for manpower. Then, the ones that survived would learn to not fight and not scream and not cry. 

You knew the patterns very well.

No one should go through any of that. As much as you wished peace for yourself, as much as the incoming battle frightened you – the mere idea of being anywhere near Erzsebet or Drotla again and the understanding that they could and would take you back if everyone failed made your limbs go cold -, there was another feeling growing within you, too.

Anger.

It had always been there. Every second in Erzsebet’s presence was torture. You never respected her. You never felt any sympathy for her. You never thought she had any sort of quality at all. You knew that there was a time when your quarters were a literal cell in her palace’s underground, your clothes were rags, your food was just bread and water if there was any food at all. When you became docile and Erzsebet granted you privileges – a proper room, good food, beautiful gowns and jewels, compliments and compliments – your anger towards her did not decrease one bit. You never felt blessed or thankful over any of those “privileges”. 

You were always so busy trying to simply survive the torture that this fire didn’t have time to spread. Three days away from them was all it took for it to burn in every corner of your soul. 

You weren’t just angry. No, you hated her. Hated them. Every vampire from her court was as awful as her. You hated their smell and you hated how they had no respect for human life and you hated their pompous attires and parties and you hated the fact that you had to sit and watch as they killed hundreds of innocent humans in front of you, not having the power to do anything to stop them.

They had to pay.

You weren’t as strong as Annette or Richter or Alucard. You didn’t even know how to hold a bayonet or wield a sword. And yet, if there was anything you could do to help these people defeat her army, then you would. 

“…We will not subject to anyone who wants to imprison us!” Robespierre boasted. The crowd cheered; fear and apprehension were replaced by rage and motivation in front of your eyes as the man’s speech progressed. Fists raised in the air, screams and whistles of support popped here and there. “We will not allow any self proclaimed queen to sit on a throne atop of us again! We will not allow anyone to take our liberty away from us!”

Robespierre made a long pause, eyeing the crowd in all directions. It seemed that everyone held their breaths in anticipation.

Then – he raised his fist in the air.

“This self proclaimed queen will feel the taste of our iron and the weight of our freedom! Woe to the one that stands in our way. We will fight!”

The crowd exploded in cheers. 

More and more fists raised in the air, mirroring their leader. Vive la Révolution!, they chanted. 

You had to admit – Robespierre was great at giving speeches. You felt motivated yourself.

A sigh by your side caught your attention.

Alucard didn’t look very impressed. His golden eyes were as hard as stone. Underneath the severity of his expression, you also saw a slight hint of annoyance.

“What’s the problem?” You asked hesitantly. 

Alucard took a second to answer. He narrowed his eyes.

“I just don’t appreciate hypocrisy.” It didn’t look like he wanted to elaborate on that statement. “Come. We have to act before the heat of the speech vanishes.”

Indeed – the “heat” of the speech spread like true fire through the city, being carried by anyone that witnessed it. The Revolutionary Army took the lead, its generals reuniting to trace defensive strategies. 

And yet, none of these generals seemed to have the same level of authority Alucard had.

You watched from the back of the room, almost hidden (yes, you said you wanted to help, but at that moment you were the only woman present in the middle of soldiers and that was quite uncomfortable because you attracted a lot of attention for some reason) as all these generals listened to anything Alucard had to say. You didn’t know exactly what the white-haired vampire had done to gain their respect so quickly, but apparently, his first introduction left quite the impression.

Alucard was soft spoken. He didn’t raise his voice in any moment, keeping the same usual quiet but deep and husky tone – and that seemed to be much more effective than screaming, because it forced everyone else to be quiet. Whenever he spoke up, silence filled the room. It seemed no one had the courage to argue with him, though everything Alucard proposed was highly intelligent and you’d have to be a fool to disagree.

You doubted any of these men had been in the presence of a vampire before. Probably never talked to one, at least. However, it seemed that everyone understood that they weren’t talking to a simple man. Standing in the middle of these humans, it became even more clear how Alucard stood out, and not just in appearance. That was the intellect and way of speaking of a person that had lived much, much longer than the human brain could process. It seemed that everyone could feel it, even if they didn’t know Alucard’s true age. He exuded quiet authority, unyielding and highly intelligent. Once again, it reminded you of a mountain. It is silent, has been there for thousands of years; no one can move it.

Alucard looked very noble.

You remembered Richter’s words at the forest. Well, he does look like a prince.

You were glad his attention wasn’t upon you at that moment. You wouldn’t have been able to hide your awe very well if it was.

Around an hour later, the soldiers left the building to spread the strategies. What they needed the most, counting on the collaboration of every citizen:

Salt.

A lot of salt.

Sacks, boxes and buckets of salt were brought to the streets. The army provided weapons – swords, knives, rifles, gunpowder, bayonets and even cannons which were carried to the entries of the city. Every weapon should be wiped with salt.

You busied yourself with that.

Without asking permission, you knelt down in front of a crate full of swords, pulled a bucket of salt closer and started the process of applying salt to the blades. Then, you put the “salted” ones into another empty crate.

It was an obvious task, but it ended up calling more attention than you expected… maybe because, again, there weren’t many other women around the headquarters of the Revolutionary Commune. Most women and children were being led to the outskirts of the city or locked inside houses that had basements as part of the evacuation tactics. You vehemently ignored the looks sent in your direction and just kept working.

Some moments later, you noticed that a young man started imitating you. He sat on the sidewalk and took a crate of weapons himself.

And then another man joined.

And then an older woman.

You heard her husband try to shush her back home, but she sent him an annoyed look.

“I won’t sit down and watch everyone fight. If there’s something I can do, then I’ll do it.” She retorted. He wasn’t brave enough to argue with her any further.

You were glad someone else shared this feeling.

It seemed to awaken some sort of camaraderie in that street, at least. Before, only the men that intended to fight were busy with the preparations. Then, you started to notice more people joining in; women and elders. They brought water, food, fruits, helped carrying crates from place to place. 

Hours went by. You busied yourself with many other tasks after all the weapons were ready. The situation was beyond serious, but it was… nice. It was nice to be so busy doing something that you didn’t notice hours passing by. It was nice to help others. It was nice to not feel so useless for once. Under imprisonment, you didn’t have much to do other than sleeping. You weren’t used to this feeling of being so focused on a task that you could somehow brush your worries to the farthest corner of your mind, at least for some hours.

The sky got clear, but there was still much to be done. You only stopped for some minutes to eat an apple before going back to work.

“Aren’t you tired, mademoiselle?” One of the soldiers asked. He was probably around Richter’s age, which made you remember him and hope he was safe – but the similarities stopped there. This boy, Henri, was shorter and not even close to being as muscular as the Belmont. Curly ginger hair fell over his forehead; his fair skin was peppered by freckles. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for worrying,” you dismissed politely.

“Are you sure?” Another young soldier asked; his name was… Charles? Yes, you thought that was it. His hair was black and he was a tiny bit taller than Henri. “You’ve been working the entire night, mademoiselle. You should rest.”

“I don’t get tired easily,” you dismissed again, smiling awkwardly.

“Do you want water? Do you want to eat?” Another soldier asked… what was his name? You didn’t remember this one. “Please, if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“L-Let me know, too,” Henri, the ginger, intervened. Why did he send this other soldier a slightly annoyed look? “Actually, I asked her first.”

“And? I’m just worried about mademoiselle’s well being.” 

“I am more worried than you are.”

“I doubt it.”

You slipped away from them quietly before they could notice.

Well.

The men here seemed to be very eager to protect you.

All the attention you were receiving was awkward. You weren’t used to so many people wanting to talk to you. Especially not men. Erzsebet never let any men get too close to you for some reason. The guards that kept your quarters and dragged you to places weren’t allowed to talk to you.

These soldiers were… nice in an odd way.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to consider the intentions behind their kindness, because every time you looked at them, you thought of how low their chances of survival were.

You knew Erzsebet’s forces. She had many powerful vampires under her control, not to mention the night creatures. The Vampire Messiah herself was enough of a threat; whenever she summoned Sekhmet, it seemed that air got heavier, as if the atmosphere around her submitted to her power. You couldn’t even imagine how powerful she would be after reuniting with the second half of her soul…

The human forces, on the other hand…

A bunch of civilians wearing soldier uniforms didn’t make them real soldiers. And in between the soldiers, there were barely any warriors. Warriors have expertise in real battle. Warriors carry in their eyes and in their postures the readiness to kill – not because they like it, but because they understand that in order to keep, sometimes you have to take. A real warrior is easily spotted in a crowd.

Other than Alucard? There were barely any.

You doubted many of these men had ever killed a chicken, let alone a vampire.

You tried to be positive, but it was impossible as you distributed more uniforms on the street and analyzed the “soldiers”. A big line was formed in front of you. Smiley man after smiley man. You handed them the uniforms, trying to smile back, but it was quite impossible. Not muscular enough. Not enough callouses. This man is frightened. This man has no idea what he’s getting himself into. This man has awful posture. This man won’t last a second in the battlefield. This man… why did he wink at me?

It was so, so bad.

Maybe if the city had time to actually prepare, to reunite a real army instead of counting on its citizens last minute… maybe they’d have a chance then. Hell, you were trying to be positive, trying to not be frightened, but it was getting hard…

The sound of someone cleaning their throat caught your attention.

You lifted your gaze once again to an unknown man. He was short, wore simple clothes and had a lot of hair missing… but a kind smile adorned his features – kinder than most of the men that stood in front of you, actually.

You forced yourself to smile back and handed him another uniform. The man took it in his hands and inhaled.

“Mademoiselle,” he started, and it somehow caught the attention of the other men that stood nearby. None of them had really spoken to you, just resigning themselves to saying ‘thank you’ and leaving the line. “Y-Your efforts into helping all of us and your kind smile will be what fuels my courage in the battle to come.”

Completely taken by surprise, you froze and stared at him for some seconds.

“Uh… thank you,” your smile got awkward again. Why was everyone looking at you? That wasn’t very comfortable. “I-I mean– I am glad to be an incentive for you to fight, b-but your biggest motive should be to protect your freedom, isn’t it?”

The man got speechless for some reason.

Oh. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

You already felt your fingers shaking and your heart beating faster with embarrassment–

“Beautiful!”

What?

Another man behind in line said loudly. Why were his eyes glowing as he looked at you?

“Beautiful words!” He started clapping.

What?

“You are right, mademoiselle! What encouraging words!” Another man boasted.

“We are fighting for the liberty of our country!”

“Vive la Révolution!”

And then they were all chanting with their fists in the air.

You stood there with your mouth opened, not understanding what the hell just happened. Beautiful words? Weren’t you stating the obvious? You just wanted to take his attention away from you. Why did they all get so excited all of sudden?

What was wrong with these men?

But then, a familiar voice caught your attention, making you forget about the entire embarrassing situation completely.

Richter’s voice.

You turned around to see him and Annette approaching at fast steps.

Immediate relief washed over your body.

You looked around. The line was still pretty long… oh! There was Henri. You waved at him, and the boy approached like an excited puppy. “Would you take my place? Thank you,” you didn’t wait for him to reply, however, not did you notice that the other men waiting in line didn’t really like that you ran away from your position.

You met each other on the sidewalk.

“Are you guys okay? Did you get hurt?” You blurted out immediately as soon as you got close enough. Both of them looked tired, but other than that, no injuries.

“How are you asking that?” Richter seemed to be in disbelief. “Last time we saw you, you were bleeding to death. Are you okay?”

You instinctively looked down at your own body and extended your arms, as if to show them that there were no wounds.

“I’ve healed,” you said with simplicity. Because it was that simple, and you didn’t understand why they didn’t understand that yet.

It didn’t seem to ease any of Annette’s guilt.

That was what you wanted the least.

The girl in yellow dropped her shoulders, the corners of her mouth turned downwards.

“I am so sorry, Ruby,” her voice was somewhat shy. “Because of me, you got hurt. I… I should’ve been more careful…”

She looked up at you again when you rested your hand on her shoulder hesitantly.

You weren’t good with physical touch, but that seemed appropriate at the moment.

“That’s not what happened.” You started in a calm voice. In fact, that was the most level headed you’ve ever heard yourself… where was that coming from? “I jumped in front of you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I did it. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

Annette seemed a bit surprised by your actions. Well, you were surprised, too. But it seemed to ease whatever she was feeling, even if just a bit; she managed to offer you a tiny smile.

Richter put his hands on each side of his waist and looked around with a frown. “The city is in chaos. What happened?”

“Robespierre called for all citizens to join battalions in their neighborhoods.”

This new voice startled you slightly.

You hadn’t noticed Alucard approaching. You knew he was close – in fact, he stood somewhere around you the entire time; Alucard himself was too busy, but he was always somewhere in your field of view, although you didn’t really interact the entire time.

“Legions of volunteers are taking positions around the city,” he concluded. It was interesting how his voice became just a tiny bit less dull now compared to when he talked to soldiers or other unknown people.

“Do you think they’re ready for what’s coming?” Richter asked.

Alucard hesitated.

You exchanged a knowing look.

They weren’t. He knew it. You knew it. But… that was all you had for now.

He looked back at Richter with his eyebrows slightly turned upwards. “...An impassioned speech can make even the weakest man believe he’s brave.”

There was no better way to describe the current situation.

Richter and Annette eyed each other. The Belmont boy seemed to hesitate for a moment and cleared his throat as if building up courage – and then you remembered that the last time he saw Alucard, they weren’t exactly on good terms.

“So… I know things didn’t work out at the Louvre, but maybe all isn’t lost.”

Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You held your breath in anticipation.

“I have a plan, and I think it’s going to work,” it was Annette’s turn to speak.

“If we work together,” Richter concluded.

The white-haired vampire observed them in silence for some moments, while the three of you looked at him in anticipation back.

Finally, he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.

“Very well. What’s your plan?”

The Tailleur de Jordan was a small establishment you had hidden your scepter the night before, just two streets away from there. As the citizens were being evacuated, places like that were empty and ready to use. It would be perfect for what Annette needed to do – though it immediately filled you with worry.

“That was what the spirits were trying to tell you?” You asked.

Annette nodded. “...I believe so. It’s difficult to be certain about anything, but this is the best chance we have.” Alucard unlocked the door and stepped aside. Annette walked in first. “This will do,” she stated after a quick look.

The tailor shop was small. It had a couple of chairs, a large windowsill, a table, a desk, cabinets filled with all types of fabric in multiple colors, threads, needles, scissors… it had somewhat of a cozy atmosphere. You hoped whoever owned it was somewhere safe – and you hoped they’d survive the incoming battle to take this place back.

As the two men pushed furniture from the center of the room, you rushed to find Annette some chalk. When you turned around to hand it to her, she was eyeing the scepter with curiosity. It was leaning on a table in the corner of the room, exactly where you left it.

She looked at you with one quirked eyebrow.

“...It’s hard to explain,” you said.

Annette shrugged and took the white chalk from your hand.

She knelt on the floor and started to draw an intricate symbol you’d never seen before. It resembled a fleur de lis, though it was much more complicated. After she finished, she put the chalk aside and sat in front of it with crossed legs.

Then, she took a deep breath.

“My soul may be away from my body for a while,” she explained quietly.

Richter folded a piece of fabric and placed it behind her, offering Annette a gentle smile, before sitting by her side on the floor.

“Just in case.”

She reciprocated his smile.

You sat down on a chair in the corner of the room beside the scepter, watching the entire scene in silence. Alucard stood near them in the other side of it.

Annette looked down again. For the first time, you saw a hint of fear in her eyes… and you felt fear for her, too. She was going to walk into a path where no one could follow or help her. She’d be truly alone in this – and if she failed, then you’d really have no chance. You already knew the “army” out there was hopeless.

“Cécile always warns that our souls mustn’t get lost in the spirit world,” she explained in that same quiet tone.

“What happens if they do?” Alucard asked.

“...I will never wake up.”

Richter gasped.

He rested his hand over hers. And then… it was happening again. That intimacy they shared that made you feel like an intruder. It seemed that, in these moments, they were alone – but in a delicate, pure way; it wasn’t as if they were ignoring you and Alucard. They were simply… too lost in each other to care about anything else.

It was beautiful to witness, in a way.

“We’ll be here. Don’t be afraid.” Richter’s voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe it’ll help you find your way back.”

They exchanged a final sweet look before the Belmont moved away.

Annette inhaled deeply. She pressed her hands together in a praying position and closed her eyes before chanting something in a language you didn’t understand.

She chanted a few times. Her voice got slower. She opened her eyes – but they seemed empty.

“Annette?” Richter called.

She stopped talking. Her body stopped moving. Her chest moved almost imperceptibly – the calm breathing of someone asleep. Her eyes were opened, but she wasn’t seeing anything anymore.

Her soul was gone.

It was a chilling sight to witness.

Richter held her hand. He knew she wasn’t there anymore, but he kept repeating “I’ll be here” anyway.

The care he had for her was deeper than you first assumed…

You crossed your arms and rested your back on the chair. It wasn’t going to be a fast process. So… there was nothing you could do but wait.

Wait…

And wait.

A part of Sekhmet’s soul must be in the spirit world, Annette had explained. If I find it and retrieve it, we may have a chance.

A third part of Sekhmet’s soul…

If Annette was right, than it’s impossible that Drolta didn’t know about it already. She was the goddess’ priestess, after all. Could it be that she tried to retrieve this third part of Sekhmet’s soul before? Maybe it was impossible for her, as it was a spiritual journey, not physical. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t succeed and kept looking for Sekhmet’s mummy.

Time went by. Minutes turned to an hour. Richter walked from side to side nervously, biting his nails, while you and Alucard didn’t move or talk at all. After a few more minutes, Alucard approached and leaned on the wall beside you with his arms crossed.

“You should try to sleep for now.”

You looked up at him and shook your head.

“I’m not sleepy.”

He sent a side eye at your blatant lie. “I’ll repeat it. You haven’t slept properly in almost four days.”

“You haven’t slept at all in almost four days, either.”

“And I can keep awake for much longer. How about you?”

...You’d never been awake for this long, actually. He got you.

You sighed and crossed your arms, sinking in the chair even more. “I don’t want to sleep. What if something important happens?”

“He won’t be quiet about it. You’ll wake up in no time,” Alucard said jokingly.

“I heard that,” Richter almost pouted. It seems he didn’t really like when both of you chuckled at him.

You dropped your voice to a whisper, hoping Richter wouldn’t hear you from the other side of the room.

“Don’t be mean to him.”

Alucard paused.

You had the strong impression he wanted to roll his eyes but held himself back. The white-haired vampire sighed and tilted his head to the side.

“I won’t if you sleep for a bit.”

It was your turn to let a deep sigh. “No promises.”

“No promises on my part, either.”

He sent you a last lighthearted look, the hint of a smile on his lips, before walking back to the windowsill.

The thing is, your eyelids were heavy. But you genuinely didn’t want to miss anything. One week ago, your life was basically a long, confusing sleep; it was the first time you’d been awake for so long, experiencing so many new things – good and bad – and it was the first time your mind was so clear. No memory lapses, no confusion; you knew where you were all the time, there were no blank spaces in between events. You didn’t want it to go away. If Alucard could keep awake for much longer, you could too, right? Maybe your brain would heal the sleep. Maybe if you pushed a little longer you wouldn’t feel tired anymore–

Pitch black.

“Come back here!”

You run around the alleys after that little rat. Heavens, why does ??? have to be so disobedient?! Although he’s screaming, you’re pretty sure he likes being chased like this. He loves pissing you off for some reason.

But his legs are much shorter than yours, and without much effort, you grab him by the collar.

??? looks at you with the round eyes of a scared pup.

“What are you doing here?!” You hiss, crouching down to get to his eye level and holding him by both arms. “I told you over a hundred times, you’re not allowed inside!”

“I was curious!”

“I don’t care!” ??? shrieks at your loud reprimands. You can’t bring yourself to soften; he has to understand that his actions have consequences once and for all. “There are places you’re not allowed to get in! Do you want me to get into trouble because of you?!”

??? crosses his arms and looks down, pouting. “I-I just wanted someone to play with!”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You have plenty of friends. You can’t fool me with that.” He sticks his tongue out at you; you ruffle his hair violently in return. “Go back home right now. And if I catch you here again, I’ll hang you by your feet and let you dry in the sun like a peace of meat. Did you understand?!”

“You’re annoying! I hate you!”

??? runs off. You gasp out loud, outraged.

“I’ll kill you when I get home!”

You woke up with a soft gasp.

For some seconds, you were completely disoriented. You blinked several times, trying to understand what was happening.

Oh.

You were exactly on the same spot as before. Sitting on the wooden chair. A long, soft fabric was put over your body, serving as a blanket.

...You ended up sleeping, after all.

And for a long time.

You knew it not only because your body ached from sleeping while sitting in a hard wooden chair – your neck was especially painful –, but because the Sun was gone. Judging by the height of the moon in the sky, it was already a little over midnight. It brightly illuminated the entire tailor shop through the large window, bathing it in silver light; one candle was lit over the desk, but it wasn’t really necessary.

You massaged your neck, frowning, and looked to your right side. Richter was sleeping over the desk right beside you, snoring softly and drooling a bit. It made you chuckle. Annette hadn’t moved a centimeter. You wondered if she’d feel pain when she “came back”; not moving for so many hours, not drinking water or eating…

“You should sleep a bit more.”

Alucard’s quiet voice reached your ears and immediately made you shiver… for some reason. He was being quieter than usual as to not wake Richter up or disturb Annette.

The white-haired vampire was comfortably sitting on the windowsill with his arms crossed, one of his legs over the wooden platform. The usual serenity adorned his features. Moonlight bathed him directly through the window, making his hair look like strands of pure braided silver. His long eyelashes cast a soft shadow over his golden eyes.

You rubbed your eyes and forehead. Of course, you were trying to brush the sleep away, but you also were trying to pretend his sole image didn’t make your stomach feel funny.

“I already slept too much,” you whispered back.

Alucard observed you in silence for some seconds. He pointed at something with his finger; a basket with some apples right beside Richter’s head.

Sure. You needed to eat. You haven’t had lunch at all. You held one of the apples and took a bite.

You munched in silence for some moments.

A silent battle took place within you.

You… wanted to approach him. You hadn’t really talked the entire day, too busy in your tasks to have a moment – and as stupid as it was because, well, he’d been near you the entire time, you… missed him. But you didn’t know if you should approach him at all. What if Alucard didn’t want to be disturbed? There was no reason for you to leave your spot in the room.

The hesitance only got worse because now, every time you looked at him, you remembered the hug. It was so comforting at that moment… why did you feel so embarrassed of yourself about it now? Alucard took the initiative to hug you first. There was nothing wrong with that, was it? Wasn’t it common for friends to hug each other? Well, you never had a friend before, you couldn’t tell if it was true...

Were you his friend in the first place? Did Alucard consider you a friend?

The truth is… you felt that something shifted in your “relationship” with him since that hug, even if it was all just in your head. You couldn’t tell exactly what. Maybe you were acting like a fool. Alucard probably didn’t stop to think about it even once.

You took another bite.

Alucard wouldn’t be mean to you, would he? He hadn’t been until that point. Not even once. So, why were you hesitating?

You gulped and got up from the chair.

Still holding the blanket, you crossed the room, tip toeing to not make much noise. Your eyes were glued on Annette’s immobile figure, both because you didn’t want to touch her by accident and because you didn’t want to make eye contact with Alucard yet. You knew he was watching you.

You sat on the other side of the windowsill, facing him. As the window was large, it was a considerable distance, which made the situation a bit less awkward for you. You put both legs over the windowsill and brought your knees close to your body, covering them with the blanket.

The only sound filling the room was of Richter’s soft snoring and your quiet munching.

It was peaceful. You didn’t expect you’d feel any peace in the hours that preceded the hell that would unleash upon the city. It was even a bit ironic how beautiful the moon looked that night.

After finishing eating the apple, you placed the stem aside and stayed in silence for some more minutes.

It took courage to speak up.

“Do you think they still need help out there?” Your voice was quiet.

Alucard didn’t take his eyes off the window.

“We already did everything we could to help them.” His deep, husky voice sounded even more soothing than usual for some reason. It was truly admirable how relaxed he could be in that moment, considering what awaited you in the near future. “They have all the instructions. They’ll know what to do.”

It was kind of him to include you in this. Your “help” wasn’t as significant as his; Alucard not only gave instructions, but led the entire defensive strategy. But you decided not to feel bad about that… not at that moment.

You put your hands over your knees and adjusted your posture a bit better.

“...Can I ask you something?”

Alucard turned his gaze to you for the first time, nodding.

“What did you mean back there at the square? When you said you don’t appreciate hypocrisy?”

The white-haired vampire exhaled softly; his expression got a tiny bit tense. You were under the impression he was expecting you to ask something else…

“That whole speech about liberty.” He started. His voice became more serious, a slight hint of annoyance once again. “It’s all surface level, you see. Very selfish. They talk about fighting for freedom whilst still keeping colonies under their power, refusing to let them be independent.” Alucard’s eyes landed on Annette. “Annette’s home country, Saint-Domingue, is one of these colonies. They are currently battling for independence over there. Annette herself was a slave; she had to fight for her own freedom.”

You widened your eyes and immediately looked at her as well.

Annette used to be a slave?!

Suddenly – many things about her started to make sense. The mark on her right hand… her words to you at the forest; “I understand how you feel”, she said. “Those people… they keep haunting you. On your sleep, or even when you’re awake”, she said.

“To be truly freed is to not be afraid.”

You tightened your hands on the blanket. Annette… she really could understand you better than anyone else. And she still came to this country to fight for the people that wouldn’t fight for her…

“Why did she even agree to help them?” You wondered in disbelief.

“She understands that Erzsebet will become a much bigger menace to the whole world if she’s not stopped in time.” Alucard tightened his eyes. “The people of France, like Richter and Maria, aren’t wrong for fighting against the monarchy. But it’s the leaderships of the Revolution that are hypocrites. If it’s not liberty for all, then it’s no liberty at all.”

You looked at Annette again.

She was so much stronger than you imagined… not only because she was a powerful witch or because she was, at that moment, wandering alone in the spirit world; Annette had a noble soul. She was strong enough to overcome her fears and fight for herself.

You wondered if you’d be like her one day.

You wanted to be like her.

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

Well… if you wanted to be like her, you’d have to overcome your fears, too. And your hesitancy.

You hugged your own legs and stared at the fabric of the blanket, gathering the courage to speak these next words out loud. If you spoke them, they would become more real. A part of you was scared of that fact.

“I… I think I have a son.”

Alucard immediately whipped his head at your whispered confession.

Although he was visibly surprised, he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“...Or a brother. I’m not sure.”

The white-haired vampire narrowed his eyes; he was the one that seemed to hesitate now, choosing his words carefully. “What makes you think that?”

You scratched your head nervously and frowned. “This dream I just had. I barely ever dream about anything… my sleep is usually empty. B-But I dreamed of this little boy that looks like me and…”

And I loved him.

I loved the little boy I saw in my dream with all my heart. I missed him the moment I opened my eyes and realized he wasn’t real.

You gulped, passed your hand over your face again. “Or maybe I’m still emotional over what happened to Oliver. I don’t know.” You shook your head, immediately feeling regret and embarrassment for admitting something so personal. Why would Alucard want to know about that anyway? “F-Forget about it. Just a dream, right? I guess it’s not important…”

“If it’s important to you, then it’s important.” Alucard held his chin and looked down, pensive. “Perhaps your memories are coming back in the form of dreams.”

It was a bit amazing how Alucard could reassure you with a blank expression on his face – as if he didn’t understand the impact his words had on you. You looked down at your knees again, that familiar heat already increasing on the back of your neck and cheeks.

“I-Is it common?” You tried to act like his words didn’t make you feel even more emotional.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell. I’ve… never suffered of memory loss before.” He shrugged. “But the mind works in mysterious ways, especially if we consider that your memories might’ve been taken away by magic.”

You exhaled and grabbed some strands of hair at the top of your head nervously again, as if trying to forcefully grab a memory from your brain.

“Why can’t I remember relevant things? Or at least straightforward things?” You whined to yourself. “Small, useless things come to me, but nothing that could help me find out who I am.”

Alucard leaned forward slightly, seeming interested.

“What type of things do you remember?” He asked softly.

You hummed.

“...I can’t call these things memories. They’re more like… things I know. Like…” You pressed your lips together. “I know the difference between a poisonous mushroom and an edible one. No one taught me that, I just know it. Or… there’s many animals I know of, though I don’t remember ever seeing them before. And…”

You looked out the window towards the sky. Alucard watched you with curiosity.

You pointed towards a specific star.

“That’s Mars.” Alucard looked subtly surprised. “Right in the middle of the Gemini constellation. Pollux, Castor…” You searched for something else in the sky. “And there… Betelgeuse, Bellatrix... the Orion constellation. And right over there–“ You pointed a bit downwards. “That’s Jupiter, in the middle of Taurus. And that star right beside it… it’s…” Your frown deepened and you hummed, trying to remember its name. “It’s…”

“Aldebaran.”

You looked back at Alucard.

He had the tiniest of the smiles on his lips.

“Yes. Aldebaran.” You confirmed, unable to hide your tiny smile that mirrored his.

“That’s why you look at the night sky so much? You were remembering?”

Oh.

You didn’t know Alucard paid attention to that.

You averted your gaze from his, trying to hide your shyness. “M-My point is: why do I remember these small things, and nothing more relevant… like where do I come from or my real name?”

Alucard leaned his back on the wall once more and looked out the window. You watched as serenity took the lead over his features again – being accompanied by quiet sorrow. That was new. You hadn’t seen him show an expression like that before.

...He looked quite vulnerable at that moment.

“My father… was many things,” he began, which immediately surprised you and locked all your attention over him. Alucard was finally letting one more piece of information about him; these moments were rare. You cherished them deeply. His voice was featherlight, mirroring the quiet vulnerability of his expression. “A scholar, a philosopher, an alchemist… and he was also an astronomer. He was passionate about the stars.”

A small sad smile appeared on his lips.

That was another new expression.

That was the same man that led an entire room full of generals with unyielding authority; the same man you’d seen kill vampires ruthlessly. A real warrior. And yet, at that moment, locked inside this small tailor shop with no more witnesses other than you, Alucard was letting himself be fragile for a moment.

Perhaps it was inappropriate of you to think this way – but at that moment, with the silver moonlight kissing his saddened image, he had never looked more beautiful.

The intricate paintings you’d seen at the Louvre did not compare to him.

“He taught me all about it when I was a child,” Alucard continued softly. “Constellations. Comets. Planets… I never forgot any of it.” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking down. “What I mean with that is… I don’t really use this knowledge in my life other than to know the seasons of the year. Some magicians are benefited by the positions of celestial bodies, but they don’t affect the type of magic I use. And yet…” He finally looked up at you again. “This knowledge isn’t small or useless to me; because it was taught by someone I loved.”

For some reason, you felt your heart ache at his words.

Of course, you understood what he meant; he was trying to help, to change your perspective, to not deem that your simple “knowledge” was useless. However, what you noticed the most was the quiet sadness in his eyes, the quiet longing. You remembered, once again, the fact that Alucard was centuries old. Still, he visibly talked about his father with some sort of affection. Longing.

...He’d been missing someone for centuries?

But you remembered, once again, that his father was Dracula. The name that evoked primal fear in you; the vampire that, according to Richter, almost wiped out mankind. He must’ve been as dangerous as Erzsebet or even worse. Even so, Alucard seemed to miss him… it made the whole situation so much more painful.

Did Alucard have to kill someone he loved…?

Why did it make you so sad?

Maybe it wasn’t that serious to him; maybe it was a scar that had already healed long ago. Maybe you were being too emotional again. But the simple idea of Alucard having to go through something so horrible ached. You… you wished there was something you could do for him. If you could comfort him the way he comforted you so many times.

...You wondered if he’d mind if you came closer. If he’d be surprised if you draped your arms around his shoulders; if he’d push you away if you made him rest his head on your chest, the same way he did to you yesterday. You wondered if he’d appreciate if you held him like that; if he’d like if you caressed his hair, tangling your fingers on his silvery strands. You… you wondered if it would make him feel a bit better. If he’d sigh, if he would cage his arms around your waist and reciprocate it.

You didn’t just wonder it; you craved it. Because as much as his touch and his gaze and his eyes burned, you craved that burn. It wouldn’t hurt you – at least, not in the ways you were used to.

It was scary.

If you were a little more brave, you would’ve moved. You would’ve made your imagination come true.

...But once again, you were reminded that there wasn’t time for any of that.

You felt a cold shiver run your spine, which immediately snapped you out of your trance. What surprised you, however, is that you weren’t the only one; Alucard also frowned and immediately straightened his posture, putting both feet on the floor again.

Both of you turned to Annette.

Both of you watched in quiet shock when she started to float in the air, keeping her meditation position.

Both of you stood up.

“...Is this normal?” You whispered.

“I don’t know.” He whispered back.

“What do we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

“I should wake–“

“No.” Alucard held your arm softly before you took one more step. “Let the boy sleep. There’s nothing he can do, either. He’ll just be even more stressed.”

You gulped and nodded, sitting on the windowsill again and hoping that whatever battle Annette was facing, she’d be strong enough to win.

Hours went by. The sun raised in the sky again – and with him, apprehension beyond words.

Before, Richter was the only one walking from side to side and biting nails; now, you felt like a pile of anxiety yourself, watching as Annette didn’t send any sign that she was close to coming back. Two hours ago, she had gasped for a moment as if she was underwater; after that, her expression went back to being blank and she stopped levitating, her body slowly getting down on the floor again.

No more reactions after that.

The streets were packed with soldiers once more. You looked out the window and back to her nervously. What if she got lost in the spirit world? What if she never came back?

Even Alucard was beginning to show hints of anxiety. He chose to stay in the same spot by the window, but his eyes wandered outside as well. He had taken responsibility over the entire operation, after all. Despite what he said past night, you knew he also worried for everyone.

You stopped beside him with crossed arms. Richter couldn’t stay still for a moment. The three of you watched Annette in silence.

You didn’t want Richter to hear your question. Hell, you didn’t want to voice that yourself – but it had to be asked at some point.

“Alucard, what if… what if she…” you whispered; yet, you weren’t brave enough to finish that sentence.

What if she doesn’t make it?

Alucard understood anyway.

“We’ll fight.” He replied with simplicity. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. Annette never coming back… Erzsebet possessing the true power of Sekhmet… all the unprepared soldiers out there… you were experiencing the worst case scenario. You wished there was something else you could do. Anything to help her.

Minutes went by. Minutes. Minutes…

You… started to feel a strange weakness in the pit of your stomach.

Your legs felt wobbly. It wasn’t due to hunger or anxiety this time; you knew it. This sensation was familiar – albeit much weaker than the other times you had felt it.

You gasped and turned around to face the window.

“No.” You whispered in disbelief.

Alucard and Richter were surprised by your sudden reaction; then, they focused on the window as well.

On the sky.

The sun was beginning to be covered by a shadow.

Slowly, the sky got a sickening red color as the eclipse progressed; sunlight was starting to vanish. You heard rushed voices and screams out there, people running on the streets, locking themselves inside their homes, soldiers yelling orders. A sentiment of fear grew almost palpable over the whole city.

Alucard’s suspicions were right.

With the second half of Sekhmet’s soul, Erzsebet did not need you anymore to summon an eclipse.

You already knew he was most certainly right, but you foolishly tried to be positive. Maybe she won’t be able to summon an eclipse anyway.

All your thin hopes were shattered.

It was impossible to ease your aching heart or calm your shaking hands. The eclipse was the bad omen that indicated her approach. Was Erzsebet close by already? Was her army marching near the borders of Paris?

You couldn’t take your eyes off the window anymore or shut your loud mind – and that’s why you didn’t notice Richter calling Annette behind you.

Suddenly – heat.

You turned around in a jump in time to see Annette being involved in golden light.

Richter was sent flying back and hit his back against a cabinet. Wind made everyone’s clothes and hair sway; you had to protect your eyes with your arm to not be blinded. It became hot hot hot hot inside the atelier; you felt goosebumps roam your skin, your stomach drop, a certain dizziness – the effects of standing near so much power.

Finally – the light diminished. You put your arm down slowly and opened your eyes.

A shocked gasp escaped past your lips.

Annette levitated in the air some centimeters away from the floor; her hair suddenly got longer, her braids cascading over her shoulders like a beautiful lion’s mane. She wore an ancient Egyptian red attire adorned with details in gold. Her closed eyes were painted with blue and red kohl. She had a golden aura around her; the temperature inside the atelier increased significantly.

She carried so much power that the air trembled.

“...Annette?” Richter called hesitantly – but you already knew, and he knew as well, that this wasn’t Annette anymore.

“Where is she?” she spoke; her voice was distorted – beyond her normal voice, there was another female voice speaking upon it, too.

Annette finally opened her eyes. They looked like ponds of pure melted gold; her pupils, vertical like a cat’s.

“Where is this Erzsebet?” she demanded with the authority of a queen.

No… not a queen. A goddess.

Annette wasn’t in front of you anymore. Sekhmet was.

It made all the tiny hairs in your arms and at the back of your neck raise; your breath got difficult. This sensation was familiar – you had witnessed Erzsebet being possessed by Sekhmet’s power before. And yet, it felt slightly different now. The fear wasn’t accompanied by menace or cruelty. It felt more like witnessing a raging tornado coming towards you.

Annette had succeeded.

Great, this was great. Your chances in battle increased significantly with such a powerful ally; more importantly, Annette was alive. Maybe the goddess had possessed her body for a while, but it meant that her consciousness was still there somehow, maybe watching everything in the back of her mind…

Annette– Sekhmet extended her arms, watching everything with a high chin.

“My three souls must be rejoined and the cosmic balance restored,” she said in that same chilling, proud tone. “Though this mortal vessel might be too fragile for the souls of a god.”

Richter tightened his fists; sweat dripped down his temples. You’d never seen him look so worried as in that moment. The Belmont boy stepped forward.

“We will lead you to her. Erzsebet is coming to this city.”

Sekhmet did not show any reaction. It was a bit unsettling to see Annette’s face carrying that ferocious, yet soulless expression–

But then, she laid eyes on you for the first time.

Her gaze was piercing. It made you feel exposed for some reason; as if she was able to see inside of you, inside your soul.

Her eyes scanned your face, then laid on your chest for some moments.

Sekhmet frowned like a feral cat.

It was the first facial expression she showed.

“She must not be close to me.”

You froze in place, absolutely speechless.

W...What?!

Both Alucard and Richter looked from Sekhmet to you rapidly, as shocked as you. What did she mean? Why couldn’t you be close to her? She– She didn’t like you? Did it have anything to do with your involvement with Erzsebet? What was the problem?!

“Don’t make me repeat myself, human,” Sekhmet hissed again, this time addressing Richter; the tailor shop trembled at her anger. Alucard was the only one that didn’t flinch or move. “Where is this Erzsebet?! Lead me to her!”

Richter looked back at you one more time, sending you an apologetic look. The goddess was impatient – and it wasn’t a good idea to make her wait, especially while she inhabited Annette’s body. No one had any idea if it’d be harmful for her to be possessed for so long.

The Belmont boy gulped and walked towards the door, unlocking it and walking out. Sekhmet followed him, levitating out of the atelier.

You stood there, shell-shocked, not knowing how to react.

Alucard’s touch took you out of that state.

He put both hands over your shoulders, blocking the sight of the floating goddess out there and forcing you to lock all of your attention on him. Severity weighed on his features; he had an accentuated frown, his jaw was tightened. And yet, he somehow still looked down at you with care.

“It’d already be best for you to keep out of sight,” his tone indicated that he was not willing to debate this.

You tightened your fists, your shoulders dropped. You knew he was right regardless of Sekhmet’s demand. You knew you didn’t know how to wield a sword or a rifle; you knew you’d be useless in battle. You weren’t a powerful magician or a warrior like these two. You weren’t even like the civilians in uniforms out there – they’d be more useful than you.

But even so… even so…

Alucard cupped your cheek softly.

Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t in panic as you were before that made his gesture burn right away. It burned burned burned much more than Sekhmet’s hot power out there; it spread warmth through your body, made your chest tighten. Heavens, it burned so much; his caring gaze, his gentle touch, his sweet smell… everything burned–

But oh god – how you wanted to burn in this fire.

The rushed voices and steps out there got muffled. It seemed that time itself slowed down for a moment while you looked into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve failed you two times before,” Alucard said in a smooth, yet determined tone; his thumb caressed your cheek gently. “I promise I won’t fail you again. Erzsebet and Drolta won’t get anywhere near you.”

You didn’t know what to answer.

Alucard was the first person to ever stand up for you; the first person to ever protect you, to make you feel safe. Yes, maybe you were being too emotional. Maybe you were letting your emotions take the lead instead of sanity. But how could you not feel this affection towards him in situations like this?

You believed him. You trusted him.

You nodded.

Alucard managed to offer you a small smile. He let go of your cheek and held your wrist softly, passing his finger over the red string. He still wore his.

“Remember.” He patted his finger over it. You nodded yet again.

When Alucard stepped back, the world started moving at the normal pace again. The noises became clear. The city was loud now – and you felt incredibly cold.

He sent you a last significant gaze before turning around and leaving the atelier, closing the door behind him.

And then – you were alone.

Minutes went by. You walked from side to side with crossed arms. The city was painted in an eerie red hue due to the eclipse; you saw many soldiers running through the window. You tried to calm down, control your breathing, focus on a single thing– but fuck, you couldn’t. Not anymore.

You hoped Alucard, Richter and Annette were safe – especially Annette. You hoped everything would get solved fast so the goddess could leave her body. You hoped Richter would find the strength to fight. You hoped Alucard would succeed in his strategy. You hoped the civilians out there, courageously wearing uniforms and standing up to fight for their families, would survive; as many as possible, at least.

You hoped there was something you could do.

You sat on the windowsill and leaned your head on both hands, gripping your hair nervously. You couldn’t help but shake. You knew Alucard was right; you didn’t want to get hurt or to cross ways with Drolta or Erzsebet. He was being rational. He was correct.

But even so… even so–

Your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of an explosion.

The floor shook. Multiple screams echoed in the night, followed by shots. More explosions – these were somewhere near, probably a few streets away; you heard more distant explosions too. Cannons being ignited.

The battle had started.

You got up again, unable to control your anxiety. More screams more shots more explosions more earthquakes. The sky lightened up with different colors – blue and red and yellow – for a few seconds. Your heart raced, sweat already covered your forehead, your fingers trembled. Pure chaos had unleashed upon the city.

Erzsebet and Drolta were somewhere out there fighting.

This perception frightened you, made you want to dig a hole on the ground and hide there forever. You couldn’t be seen or caught by them – death felt like a more merciful future, but you couldn’t die, and that was the problem.

At the same time, another feeling increased. Burned.

Anger.

And urgency.

Everyone was fighting out there. Everyone was contributing somehow, putting their lives on the line. Humans against vampires and night creatures; they were much more courageous than you were. All of them were risking their fragile mortal lives. You were reminded of how easy it is for a human to die – while you, with this strange healing condition, were hidden there, too scared to get hurt.

You were tired of feeling useless and even more tired of feeling scared.

Fuck, there should be something you could do! Anything actually useful. You held your head again, once more hating your stupid empty brain, wishing you could find a relevant memory despite what Alucard said before–

Your eyes stopped on the scepter.

It was in the corner of the room exactly were you left it. You weren’t brave enough to touch it again.

You stood there and stared at it.

Explosions. Screams. Earthquakes. Shots. Multiple steps. Everything had a red tone to it. You kept your eyes locked on the golden artifact, the symbol of the sun; you stared and stared and stared and–

You remembered.

Once again – it wasn’t exactly a memory. It was more of a feeling; a knowledge. The scepter seems to be reacting to your feelings, Alucard said that time. It shone and burned the three vampires alive as if they were standing under the sun.

You somehow caused this reaction.

And at that moment, something deep within you told you that you could make that again.

You could make it bigger.

Your fists tightened. You gulped and straightened your posture.

Alucard told you to keep out of sight. Sekhmet said you shouldn’t be near her.

But you looked out the window and saw these soldiers running with rifles in hand; the fragility of their lives didn’t stop them from fighting. Maybe there was something you could do. Maybe you could help them somehow in a truly effective way.

You crossed the room and held the scepter; it was cold, lifeless. You’d find a way to make it work again – you had too. You stood in front of the door, your hand hovering over the doorknob. It was shaking.

You closed your eyes for a moment.

You were scared. You were frightened.

But Annette’s voice echoed in the back of your mind:

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

You opened your eyes, turned the doorknob and ran out of the atelier shop – stepping into the red chaos.

[yoonia]

Love is Banned | jay b

— title: Love Is Banned | pairings: Jaebum/Jay B (GOT7) x female reader | genre: pwp (porn with very little plot), post break-up!au, brother’s best friend!au | word count: 10,901 words 

— summary | Heartbroken beyond repair, you escape to your brother’s place hours away from home, desperate to avoid the Valentine’s Day soiree happening around you—only to find yourself trapped in the middle of his love-filled house party. Seeking solitude, you are surprised to find the perfect source of comfort from the last person you had ever expected to meet tonight.

— full fic ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; involves swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk sex (with consent), explicit sex, teasing and drunk flirting, sex/dirty talk, soft dom!Jaebum, inexperienced reader, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, clit play, hair pulling (male), restraints/light bondage, light spanking, breast play, nipple play, biting, rough sex, exhibitionism kink, minor pain kink, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, unprotective sex, creampie, minor aftercare. 

— fic drop date: March 18th, 2025 | read on AO3 | main masterlist | wip | mailbox | feedback box | ko-fi | divider credit

— story note: part of Lost Boys: Threadbare Hearts series | I was supposed to post this on Valentine’s Day, but life kept getting in the way and this took way longer than expected to finish. This fic was roughly edited, but I hope you can still enjoy reading this one. | If you’re interested to be tagged/notified on any of the other stories included in the series, please enter your blog username/url through the taglist form here.

— tracklist: worst behaviour — kwn, kehlani / I can’t wait to get there — the weeknd / slow grind — muni long / slow — wizkid, anais cardot

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Those words slip out of you before you can stop yourself.

Because this room was supposed to be empty. At least, that was what you were hoping to find when you came up here. 

Placed far in the hidden corner upstairs of your brother’s home, the small guest room should have been a safe place. It should have been able to keep you far from the racket happening below. 

As far as you know, the room is rarely used—except as a second storage room where your brother would stash his old personal things once he’s no longer using them or when you need to stay over for the night with no disturbance from your brother and his guests. Apart from the two of you, you’ve never known anyone ever using the room. 

That had been the reason why you went upstairs and straight to here once you got the chance to escape. To get away from the damn party that you wanted no part in, expecting some peace and quiet, and a moment to yourself. 

You never expected to find the room—your safe haven—already occupied. 

“I don’t see any rules telling me to stay out of this place,” the man sitting in the darkness responds to you in a mocking tone. You recognise his voice before you get to see his face, as he is almost completely hidden in the shadows with none of the lights turned on, and with his back resting against the foot of the bed where the lights coming through the window can’t reach him. 

Judging from the slight slur in his speech, and the large bottle of liquor sitting on his side with half of its content mostly gone, you can tell that he already has some alcohol running in his system. Possibly from drinking here all alone while everyone else is trashing your brother’s home. 

He lets out a low chuckle and continues, “And, as far as I know, you don’t live here, so I don’t think you’re one to make the rules anyway.”

You cross your arms, going on the defensive—something that your body has been trained to do since you were a teenager facing the group of rowdy boys that your older brother hung out with back in school. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Another low chuckle comes from him before he finally moves, leaning forward until his face is visible under the streaks of dim light filtering from the hallway behind you. Just as expected, your uninvited guest turns out to be Jaebum, one of your brother’s high school best friends who seems to be hanging out around him still. Seeing the recognition on your face, he shows you a grin that no doubt would have been able to make every girl coming in his path blush from head to toe. 

Of course, you would know this to be true. You are a woman, after all, and you used to be one of those girls who were drawn to them. Not just girls, too. Other seniors used to flock around them, following everything they did at school while vying for their attention. With your brother being a part of their group, you would often find them hanging out at your family’s house after school, either in the living room or your brother’s bedroom, something that everyone else had always been so envious of while you could never find the comfort in as they used to invade your safe space.

Just like what he is doing now. 

You should have expected to find at least one of your brother’s friends to be around when you first came and saw the party happening, knowing that they still hang out together even after years have gone by. You just didn’t expect you were going to come across one of them this way. 

“Why are you here anyway? The party’s downstairs,” you curiously ask him once you’ve gotten over your shock. Seeing him now, you cannot help but picture the way you remember him from all those years ago. Years may have passed, but it doesn’t seem like he has changed all that much. He still seems like the same older boy who once made your stomach flutter whenever he was near or when he gave you a bit of attention. 

“I’m not really in the mood to join the party,” Jaebum says, shrugging, “I should be asking you the same thing. Why aren’t you downstairs with your brother? I thought you drove all the way here to join his party.” 

As if.

You narrow your eyes and scoff, murmuring almost to yourself, “I was supposed to come here to avoid all kinds of parties.”

That was the truth, anyway. While you’ve never specifically celebrated Valentine’s Day before, you’re not someone who has any aversion towards it either. Until recently, when you finally have the reason to. 

Dealing with a breakup only days before Valentine’s Day did that to you. It made you become sceptical and bitter, almost allergic to the love fest happening around you. So you decided that you had enough. Knowing how similar your brother is to you when it comes to Valentine’s Day, you drove hours away to his house, thinking that you would be able to spend the night and have the chance to confide in your brother. 

What a surprise it was for you to find the house packed with his friends and colleagues, with most—if not all of them—wearing pink, partying together with your brother who had his new girl of the season clinging to his side. 

How was I supposed to know that he was so smitten and in love with someone he met while we weren’t in contact that he felt like celebrating tonight? 

“Are you staying or going?” Jaebum asks, pointing at the opened door behind you with his chin, with you still standing on the threshold like a lost kitten. “You’re letting all the noise come in. I came here with just as much need to avoid all the ruckus as much as you do.” 

Realising that he is right, and you are at risk of missing your only chance to hide from your brother and all the excitement happening downstairs, you step deeper into the room, closing the door firmly behind you. The moment you are engulfed in the darkness, however, you immediately begin to regret it. 

Shutting the door only means that you are stuck in the same room with him, with no lights—except for the reflecting streetlights you see coming from the window—and possibly no escape. You look over your shoulder, longing for the brief of peacefulness you found in the hallway, instead of whatever awkwardness waiting for you should you choose to say.  

A low chuckle is heard, and you turn to face your brother’s best friend only to see that he isn’t sharing the same uneasiness you are feeling about this odd situation. 

“Now, that’s better. So are you going to join me? You’re not going to just stand there all night until the party’s over, are you?” Jaebum teases you as he leans back against the bed, getting as much comfortable as he can while he sits on the cold floor. “Come sit here with me. I don’t bite,” he says while tapping the empty spot right next to him, his grin widening when he adds, “Unless you ask me to.” 

You are left with no other options. Saying no to his offer would either send you back to the party downstairs or back to the room you’ll be sleeping in tonight, which is the other guest room that is closer to where the party is since your brother had insisted on keeping you close tonight. Just when you try to imagine yourself turning back around to get back to the party instead of staying, a loud cheer echoes through the house. 

Looks like whatever game they did just ended, you wonder, as another cheer breaks through and people start chanting again, telling you that the party is still far from over. Might as well stay here for now rather than regretting it later. 

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, before lifting the bottle of whiskey in your hand—one that you stole from the makeshift bar that your brother had set up in the kitchen. “I’ll share if you share yours.”

Through the dim light, you see the familiar grin spreading on his face again. “Don’t worry, I’m quite generous when it comes to sharing pleasure,” he teases with a wink, causing your cheeks to burn. 

“Whatever,” you respond, trying your best not to get affected by his presence as you walk over to join him. 

As you settle back against the foot of the bed, staying just an arm’s length away from him to stay close yet still distant enough to feel comfortable, your eyes fall on the bottles sitting next to him. The large bottle of high-quality branded liquor has been reduced to nearly half of its content, and there are a couple of small vodka bottles lying close by, with varying levels of contents—either half drunk, emptied, and only two of them still full.   

Was he really thinking about drinking all of this alone? 

Jaebum tilts his head, noticing the way you are eyeing his drinks. “See anything you’re interested in trying?” 

“No, I’m fine,” you hurriedly answer, then take a long drink straight from your bottle to hide your face. You wince at the strong taste of whiskey, but you tough it out and force yourself to speak calmly as if nothing happened, “You look like you’re trying to drink your entire life away.” 

Jaebum follows your gaze and laughs softly. “Is that how it looks?” he hums, picking up a small, nearly finished bottle of vodka and tossing the rest of its content down his throat. He savours the taste with a groan and says, “Hmmm…maybe I am. ” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you with glossy eyes. Combined with the small smile he is giving you, it’s enough to cause those old familiar flutters to rise in your chest and stomach. You pick up your bottle, taking a mouthful of drink out of it that burns your throat, hoping that it would be enough to wash the feeling down, and maybe cool yourself off before it turns into something more. 

Something completely unbidden.  

It takes only a couple of shared drinks before you finally start sharing each other’s stories, spilling all the heartaches and misfortunes that both of you have been dealing with while living away from home. 

It’s quite surreal to think that both you and Jaebum can find something to relate to and share aside from the booze that you’ve smuggled away from the party. You also find it pleasingly surprising that opening up and talking about your problems turns out to be helpful. 

Even more surprising is that it seems equally helpful for both of you. 

For you, who had just been dumped by your college boyfriend merely months after he started his new job in a different city, claiming that being in a long-distance relationship was a risk he wasn’t willing to take when he was building his career. 

For Jaebum, who had to watch his ex-fiancee marrying someone else just over the weekend, only less than a year from the day they broke off the engagement when she first claimed to be having cold feet about the thought of marriage. 

“Well, that sucks,” is all that you can say once he is done sharing his story. 

Hearing your comment, Jaebum lets out an incredulous laugh. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say after I just opened up about the lowest moment of my life?”  

You only laugh and shrug it off. “What more do you want me to say? Are you hoping for some kind of wise advice? From me? Or a pat on the back while I promise you that everything will be okay?” you retort with a snort, and you don’t miss the way Jaebum rolls his eyes on you. 

“I wish I had more to say, but I’m not good with words and I don’t even know you or your ex enough to comment about your life,” you stop with a bitter chuckle, “—or her poor choices.” 

Leaning back, you let out a deep sigh. You cannot help but realise that despite the different circumstances you both find yourselves in, you can't deny how similar your situations truly are. “But I do know how terrible it feels to know that the person you want to be with isn’t thinking the same about you. It just—” You let out another sigh, and add, ”—sucks, to be the one left behind feeling like you’ve been tossed aside.” 

Jaebum says nothing for a moment but clearly appears to be thinking deeply. “I don’t even know your ex,” he says, “but I can judge—hard—and say that he’s a moron.” 

“My brother said the same.” A bitter chuckle slips out of you when you think about your brother’s reaction when you first told him about the bad breakup. You may not have told your brother all the details about your fallen relationship yet, but he was able to comment about what a fool your ex had been to sacrifice a good relationship that he had spent years building with you for a new job that he had barely dedicated a month of his time, much less his entire life to.

But was the relationship you had with him really all that good? Was it enough for you to hold on to those memories as much as you did?

Looking up to the dark ceiling above you, you let your mind wander, as if you can see your entire life written somewhere up there. “I’ve been trying to think of him the same way but it’s hard to do it when I keep remembering all the good things we shared. They might not have been much, but the good memories keep overlapping with all the bad ones just when I try to forget them.”

Jaebum scoffs lightly from your side and nods. “Unfortunately, I can agree on that one.”

To hear the tone in his voice as he says that, and see the haunted look in his eyes when you look at him, an ache pulses in your chest. At the same time, you are surprised to find some comfort just by being here with him, listening to him opening up to you while sharing your own story in a way you haven’t been able to do with anyone else—allowing your lonely, broken souls to meet each other’s match. 

Just as silence forms thickly around you, you find yourself looking far back into a distant past and seeing yourself when you were younger. You can also Jaebum then, existing alongside your brother’s other close friends who seemed hard to reach, much less to talk to. 

Not the same way you’re doing it now, anyway. 

“You know, I always thought you guys were snobs back then. Or maybe I was too intimidated by you. You were all popular in school, and my brother’s warning to stay away from you guys didn’t help much in making me feel less wary about getting close.” 

Jaebum snaps a look at you and barks out a laugh. “Wait—What? What did your brother say about us?” 

You shrug, smiling when you explain with a chuckle, “He just said it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to get close to you guys. Told me to stay away and not fall for any of your charms and get tricked into joining your band of groupies.” 

Once again, Jaebum laughs. “Why the fuck would he say something like that?” 

“Who knows?” you answer with a shrug, feigning innocence as you bite back a smile. 

Because you know exactly why your brother would give you such a warning. 

Compared to your older brother, who was considered one of the most popular kids at school, you were way more inexperienced—both in socialising with people and in relationships. 

Your brother may have managed to keep his dating life private—from you, at least—yet the same couldn’t be said about his close friends. Jaebum and the others were quite notorious when it involved the rotation of girls they were constantly seen dating and hanging out with. Most of the boys were known as players, always spreading their charms to anyone around while breaking hearts left and right. 

“I guess he was just looking out for me,” you finally admit out loud, realising that your brother may have caught your eyes wandering whenever his friends were close. It was hard not to pay attention when you had these attractive seniors hanging around nearby, sometimes even at your home with your brother. “Even if he used to tease me, he’s still my older brother, after all.” 

Jaebum lets out a scoff and laughs. “That’s funny, seeing that he gave us all different kinds of warning when it came to you.” 

“What do you mean? What kind of warning?” 

Turning his head, Jaebum’s grin widens when he sees your reaction. “He told us that you were off limits. That we shouldn’t even think about talking or flirting with you, much less to ask you out.” Your jaw drops, which only makes him laugh. “Some of us suspected that Bambam had this silly crush on you back then, but was quick to back off after your brother warned us to stay away.” 

Surprised to hear this, you cannot help but laugh. It’s not unusual for your brother to meddle with your business. Back then, being a curious teenager, having a meddling older brother felt like a burden. You used to hate it growing up, even if you knew that he only had nothing but good intentions to keep you safe from harm. Looking back at it now as an adult, you only think that the whole situation is hilarious. 

“Can’t believe that you guys were so afraid of my brother to follow his silly rules,” you gently mock him while shaking your head. 

“Hey! That’s not fair! Have you ever seen your brother when he got mad? Like, really mad?” Jaebum defends himself. 

You only laugh in return, knowing exactly what he is talking about. You have seen your older brother’s other side that shows up whenever he is angry, and it’s not often that he may overreact over trivial things that are out of his control. But it doesn’t stop you from finding it funny for a group of bad boys to be so afraid of your brother to not risk breaking his rules. 

Not that you believe that you ever had any chance with these boys in the past. You never even dreamed of having any of them make a move on you, much less pay attention to you. You know exactly what kind of girls they were attracted to, and you never saw yourself as anything remotely on par with any of those girls. 

“I thought you were tough guys who’d love a challenge. At least, if I remember correctly, that was something that some of you used to brag about back then.” 

“You’re one to talk,” Jaebum scoffs. “Have you ever taken a risk, even knowing the consequences and not knowing if it’s going to be worth it?” 

You stop for a moment to think. “Well—” 

You feel hesitant to answer, only because your mind immediately goes to the things you’ve done only to end up having your heart, hope, and dreams broken to pieces as a result. The latest risk you’ve taken, especially, involved giving your heart to a senior you met at college—someone who was smarter, more popular—that you kept questioning if you were living a dream. You’ve even come close to giving up your dream, ready to take a huge risk of moving to another city and starting over just to be with that person.

And look at where it has gotten you now. Abandoned and forgotten, left to pick up all the broken pieces, only because he wasn’t willing to take the same risk to be with you. 

When you still have no answer, Jaebum lets out a scoff. “I knew it. What would a strait-laced girl like you know about taking risks? You should try to live out your life a little, be daring, then you can argue with me about what taking risks truly means.” 

You hear what he is saying, yet your mind is stuck on one simple detail. You’ve never really talked to him so openly before, so you’ve never known how he really sees you as a person. Hearing it coming from him only makes you reflect on yourself the way you never did before. 

Strait-laced? You wonder to yourself. Is that really how people see me?

You must admit that it doesn’t make you feel good to be seen that way. Having good grades throughout school and college and being a nice girl growing up doesn’t make you a prude. 

“Hey, I’ve done stuff!” You turn to face him and start defending yourself. “Unlike you, I’ve done real daring stuff while I was away for college. I climbed a rocky mountain after graduation and built camp on the rocky peaks while there was a storm. I did bungee jumping and paragliding when I went to Bali last summer. I went surfing and—” 

Jaebum raises his hands in surrender mode and laughs, cutting you off before you can continue listing all the extreme things you’ve tried ever since you left home. “Okay, daredevil. So you took risks against nature. That’s great and all, but I’m talking about the other risks. Much like how you’re daring me to cross your brother.” 

You swallow hard, knowing exactly what he is saying. You look away when you start feeling deep regret over your past decisions and heartaches weighing heavy in your chest. “Oh, have I done those as well.” 

Jaebum must have noticed something shifting in your mood, because his gaze softens. So does his voice when he asks, “Was it worth it?” 

You let out a bitter laugh. “Would I be here planning to drink my ass off until I forget my name if it was?” 

A knowing look passes over his gaze. “Your last break up.” He nods, then raises his bottle to knock it against yours. “Maybe you were betting on the wrong things to take a risk on.” 

You can only smile. “And of course, you would know about it.” 

The low chuckle that he gives as a response sounds hollow. “I sure do.” 

Leaning back against the bed again, you take a drink from your bottle—suddenly noticing that you may have gone through more than half of it—and gently ask him, “Tell me then, how do I know what kind of risk I can bet on which I won’t be regretting later on?” 

“You know that’s not how it works,” Jaebum says with a low chuckle, “And I don’t think I’m the right person to teach you something like that.” 

“Right,” you hum to yourself, suddenly realising how silly it is for you to ask him for such advice. 

“Maybe you can start small. Instead of diving directly into something serious like a relationship or making plans to build a future with the first person you meet who gives you attention.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Such as?” 

“Ever been on a one-night stand?” 

You burst out laughing. “What?” 

“No? Never? Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says while shaking his head. While he is right in assuming your lack of experience in that field, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to defend yourself. 

“Hey, wait a min—” 

“How about casual flings? Anything other than your serious relationships? Ever been in one?” 

You open your mouth to answer, only to immediately shut it back up before admitting loudly, “No, not really.” 

He nods. “I figured.” 

Your jaw drops. You look at him with narrowed eyes. “What does that supposed to mean?” 

He tilts his head as he looks at you. At this point, you are beginning to dread the way his grin seems so enticing, and how his low voice is starting to make you feel things inside when he speaks. “It’s just that I can’t see you hooking up with random people just for fun.” 

You bite your lips, hating the fact that he is right. You hate knowing he can read you easily even when he barely knows you aside from being his best friend’s sister. But something must have gone wrong with your head—or perhaps you’ve drunk too much alcohol tonight—because you cannot stop thinking about what he is trying to say. 

“You’re right, it’s not something that I can see myself getting into,” you admit with a small voice, as you look back into your life and wonder how different it would have been for you if you weren’t someone who feels too much, and too deeply, when it comes to relationships. 

“Maybe I should change that,” you finally say, almost to yourself rather than Jaebum. Still, it doesn’t miss Jaebum’s attention that he whips his head towards you.

“Huh? What do you mean?” 

You ignore him, already getting too deep in your thoughts—perhaps something that you shouldn’t be doing when you have alcohol in your system. “I’m saying that maybe you’re right.” 

“Wait, I didn’t say anything,” Jaebum quickly interjects. 

“I never gave casual relationships or hooking up any thought because I’m afraid I’d get emotionally attached, like most girls do,” you turn to him and add, “I’m sure you know this too.” 

Jaebum only raises his eyebrows, knowing that you are referring to his history of hooking up with random girls in the past—along with the series of drama which followed every time he ended a fling—and he just lets you continue. “But maybe that needs to change. That’s a risk that I’ve never taken before, but at least I now know not to get my emotions involved.” 

He laughs, almost in disbelief. “Are you sure about that?” 

“I am,” you stubbornly answer, “because I’ve sworn to keep away from love. Because I’m done with it. From now on, love is completely banned from my life. No more.” 

You take a chug out of your drink and continue to ramble before Jaebum can say anything. “But that doesn’t mean that I can't have fun, right? You said it yourself, that I need to live a little, so that’s what I’m going to do.” 

You can hear Jaebum chuckling from beside you. “Alright, daredevil,” he teasingly says, “And how are you supposed to do that?” You can tell without looking that Jaebum is narrowing his eyes on you when he sounds sceptical. 

So you turn to him, giving him a sweet smile as you explain, “There are people downstairs that I may not see again in the future, right? I could just walk downstairs and pick out someone I’m attracted to and have one wild night before I get home.” 

The more you speak, the more you feel doubtful, but you push it down and take pleasure in the way Jaebum’s eyes keep widening the more he listens. But as the excitement grows on you, so does the pounding in your head. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink already. “Although I might have to wait a minute before going down there to join the crowd of people. I need to wait until my head stops spinning.” 

He lets out a low scoff and shakes his head at you. “You don’t have to go that far.” 

“As a matter of fact, I think—no, I believe I do need to do this,” you cut him off. “I’m done living by the rules and being afraid to take risks that don’t go with my life planning.” Pointing the bottle in your hand his way, you continue to speak, “You were the one who put these ideas in my head, so don’t bother stopping me.” 

Chuckling softly, Jaebum leans closer. “That’s not what I was saying,” he gently says, as if he can read your thoughts and knows that you aren’t exactly sure about what you are saying. 

“What did you mean, then?” 

Jaebum only stares at you with a look that makes you feel like he is trying to strip down every layer you have—not of your clothes, but your truth. 

He softly hums before he finally speaks again. “I’m saying that maybe you don’t have to,” he says, once again with that voice of his that would easily draw people to him. Maybe have women drop their panties for him, even. But there is something different now when he speaks to you slowly, with his glossy eyes looking deeply into yours. 

“I don’t have to do—what?”

“You don’t have to go through the crowds of drunk people downstairs to find someone, is all I’m saying. Aren’t you worried about your brother finding out what you’re up to? He’s still down there leading the party, isn’t he?”

As if the party itself can hear him, a loud cheer erupts from downstairs, answering his question. You can picture your brother, always the life of the party, being in the center of it. You can already imagine him pulling you to join him the moment he sees you returning to the living room. You have lost track of time, and you quickly realise that your brother can notice anytime that you’ve been gone quite a while and that he might start looking for you soon. 

“Then, what should I do?” 

Not a word comes from him while you are starting to doubt anything can really happen tonight. Only seconds ago, you felt like you had found your new self. But you know that this drunken resolution will lead to nothing more once you are sober. Before your mind can get into any further wanderings, Jaebum suddenly shifts closer. You turn to find his face already close to yours, while he has his arm resting behind your back and the other winding around your waist. 

Surprised at the sudden closeness, you make no move to push him away. Your heart makes a stupid, unexpected leap in your chest, which only accelerates when he starts speaking to you in a low, sultry voice, “You could just look somewhere closer instead of going down there. It’s not like you don’t have a willing participant already available nearby.”

You blink, and blink again, your mind taking its sweet time processing his words that everything seems meaningless. Surely, he couldn’t have meant—

“And who might that be?” you ask with a small voice, which only seems to amuse him. 

You watch the grin on his face growing wider before he teases you, “Who else is here? I don’t see anyone else, do you?” 

“Hah,” you let out a sarcastic laugh, still refusing to believe what you are hearing, even if your heart is beginning to react, going out of control with its rapid beating. “Stop joking. Now you’re only mocking me.” 

“I wish I was joking, but I know what I’m asking,” Jaebum says with a smile on his face, his voice lowering when he asks, “Is it really that hard to believe that I’d make such an offer?” 

Before you can process what he is saying, Jaebum leans closer, close enough until you can feel his warm breath falling against your lips. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the strong smell of booze, surrounds you as he keeps you trapped between the foot of the bed and his hard body hovering close so that you can feel his heat. 

“It makes perfect sense, don’t you think?” he asks you, already sounding convincing before he even starts laying out his offer, “We’ve both been scorned by our past experience, and while we’ve learned not to fall for it again, we both still have needs. I still need to forget, which drinking seemed to fail in doing, and you need to discover this new side of you without worrying about getting attached. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about it since I know just exactly how to do it. And you know who I am, so you’d know how to find me and kick my butt off in case you regret it in the morning.” 

We’re still not friends, and not close enough for that level of trust, is what you want to say to him. 

But the words refuse to leave your lips, and your mind is getting hazy from how close he is getting. His nose brushes against yours, and your heart once again makes a giant leap which is so hard to ignore. He tilts his head, his lips coming closer to yours for a little tease, making your lips tingle. 

“Well? Come on, think about it,” he murmurs, with his lips hovering close but not enough to touch. Yet, between your hazy mind and the alarm bells ringing inside your head—warning you about your brother and his rules, about how much of a bad idea this is—you can feel yourself drawn into it. Drawn into him. 

“I think—” you barely manage to say, “This is going to be a bad idea.” You lift your gaze to look into his eyes and immediately feel like you are drowning in the depth of his gaze. 

Jaebum bites his lips while lowering his gaze. “What if I can change your mind?” 

“What are you planning—oh!” 

Whatever it was that you wanted to say dies on your tongue when Jaebum presses his lips on yours. He tenderly moulds his lips against yours, instead of devouring them in a heated kiss. Yet it’s still enough to steal words from your mouth. 

I must be going crazy, is the last thing that comes across your mind before you wrap your arms around his neck and return the kiss, allowing yourself to melt into his heat. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, pleased to know that he has practically won you over as you press your lips harder against his. 

As he deepens the kiss, the world around you seems like it’s spinning. It takes a moment before you realise that your whole body is tilting backwards, pushed under his weight as he gently lowers you back on the floor. The dust-covered carpet cushions your weight as you rest on your back. While you are trying to get comfortable, your eyes flutter open to see him slowly crawling over you. 

A soft moan slips out of you as he reclaims your mouth again. His tongue reaches inside, as if demanding you to pay attention to him instead of letting your mind wander and let it get filled with doubt. He runs his hands down your waist, his chest pressing you down against the hard floor, and then he stops when you protest with a whimper when your back starts rubbing against the rough carpet beneath you. 

“Hmmm, this won’t do,” he murmurs against your lips, his eyes searching your face to find any sign of discomfort. With a hum, he glances over to the bed and pushes himself up. 

The world around you starts spinning once again as Jaebum scoops you up from the floor and lifts you in his arms. You barely have the chance to hold on when he moves towards the bed and gently lays you down on the mattress. The sheets feel cold beneath you, yet he quickly makes it up with his warmth when he joins you. 

The sight of him hovering above you, with his eyes glowing in the dark, full of dark intent, feels like a part of a fever dream. Everything that he said he wanted to do to you, you can see it in his gaze. It’s enough to leave you breathless, to make you feel hot inside. To feel like you are wanted. 

A grin forms on his face as he asks, “Now, where were we?” 

Once again, the crippling doubt inside you holds you back, when you can easily pull him down to you and take over. “You were trying to convince me,” you answer with a whisper, when you wish to feel his kiss again so he can stop you from thinking so hard.

“Did I do a good job, then?” 

You take a deep breath. “I—” you try to answer, but the moment you see the look he is giving you, everything inside you, including your sane mind, simply stops working. 

Outside, coming all the way from downstairs, the music is still blaring loudly the later it gets in the night. The sound of people dancing, chatting, and cheering over some sort of drinking game can be heard through the thick walls. 

But here, the air is getting thick with tension, and it’s hard to focus on anything else when you are pressed down against the hard mattress beneath you, and you have your brother’s best friend hovering on top of you with a sick, teasing grin on his face. 

And oh, how much you struggle to keep your eyes away from those enticing lips, knowing how good they feel when they are pressed against yours. 

All you have to do is lean closer or pull him down to you, and you can have that kiss once again. 

“So? What do you say?” he asks again while his gaze moves to your lips, lingering for a few seconds too long as he catches you licking your lips, tasting the ghost of his kiss. “It’s a one-time offer, and time is ticking. How much longer do you think before your brother comes up here and catches us together?” 

You cannot help but grin at the mention of your brother. “Aren’t you afraid that he might just do that and break your nose again like he did years ago?” you ask, referring to the infamous incident in the past when they had a massive fight over a silly girl who turned out to be playing these boys around—the perfect reverse play of what they used to do to the girls at school who worshipped the ground they walked on.

Jaebum only laughs it off, and your heart skips a beat when you realise how much his voice has changed over the years. And how much you still love hearing it the same way you did then. 

“I think it’ll be worth the risk. As long as you’re in.” 

Worth the risk. 

Yeah, there’s nothing stopping your heart from trying to break free from your chest now that you hear such words. You shouldn’t believe it. But you want to believe it. You want to believe that he thinks you are worth risking your brother’s wrath. 

“Well? Are you in? Or are you going to walk out that door and forget everything we just talked about?” 

You bite your lip as you consider your options. His offer is tempting, but are you brave enough to take that risk? 

One night. No attachment. No promises. And you get to leave this place free of your pent-up frustrations and needs. Maybe dare yourself to feel some pleasure from the one you are forbidden to touch.

Even if you might have to ignore the familiar flutters in your chest rising the more you look at him—the same way it used to happen all those years ago whenever you saw him when he was hanging out with your older brother. 

“Not a chance,” you answer him with a grin, before you lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, your arms coming around his neck as you pull him down towards you. “Game on.”  

Wearing a victorious smile on his face, Jaebum claims your mouth in a kiss, and your entire body softens. He pushes his tongue to deepen the kiss, taking possession of every last bit of doubt you might still have left until there is nothing more but lust and passion and all you can feel is the need you want him to fulfil. 

Clutching the back of his shirt, you begin to pull it upward, and he slips down to let you strip him off of it before he does the same with your top. Tossing your blouse away, Jaebum begins crawling down, his lips tracing the length of your neck on his way down, brushing gently on your breasts as he peels your lacy bra off of your skin. Then he continues making his way down, his hands grabbing hold of the waistband of your pants before tucking them down your legs, taking your flimsy panties along with it. 

Cold breeze washes over your skin once you are left bare and naked on the bed, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of his gaze perusing you with a look of hunger written on his face. He runs his hands down your waist, to your hips, sliding them under your thighs as he bends down to trace your skin with his kisses. You feel his mouth moving close to your center, causing your heartbeat to pick up its pace. 

He doesn’t waste his time teasing you. Tightening his grip on your thighs, he smoothly dives between your legs, burying his face at the center of your heat. 

A moan slips through your lips when you feel his tongue slipping through your wet folds. You feel his mouth wrapping itself around your clit and giving it a suck, causing your back to arch and a louder moan comes rumbling out of you when a delectable rush comes flowing through your body. Your hand clumsily land on his head, fingers winding through the strands of his hair as you search for something to hold on to while you rock your hips against his lips. 

You hear him chuckling softly and moaning against your heat, before he begins to move his tongue and mouth more aggressively, alternating between pushing his tongue into your warmth and licking your arousal to suckling on your throbbing clit. His actions drive you over to the edge, your orgasm tearing your body as you continue to rock against his face, following the rhythm of your pulse. 

It comes too quickly, stemmed from your pent-up frustrations and nerves, yet neither of you has yet to have enough. Finger clenching tightly on the strands of his hair, you push his face to your quivering center, wordlessly telling him not to stop. With a hum, Jaebum continues—lapping, licking, and sucking—and adds his fingers into the mix, pushing them deeply through your pulsing walls and causing another dynamic orgasm to tear through your body. 

“Jaebum…fuck!” you curse between your cries of pleasure, unable to hold your voice down. 

Yet he makes no sign of stopping. The sounds you are making only seem to be urging him on, as he continues working his mouth and fingers on your heat. 

It isn’t until moments later, as the spasms coming out of your center begin to subside, that Jaebum finally lets you go. With one last kiss on your soaking folds, he pulls away and shifts back until he reaches the foot of the bed. 

As he rises on his feet, you open your eyes to look at him, marvelling at the sight of him—his chest glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, his messy hair that comes from the work of your fingers, and his slick lips, still wet from your release. 

“I wish I could take a picture of you right now,” he murmurs while he starts working on his belt and pants, his eyes never wavering from you as he takes everything off. 

Keeping your gaze on him, you follow every movement as the final pieces of clothing leave his skin. Your breath catches at the sight of his thick shaft bobbing out of its restraint. You can almost see it twitching and pulsing as Jaebum continues to look at you, his gaze runs from the tip of your toes to your hair, going back and forth as he takes his time to get his fill of the image of you lying vulnerable on the cold bed. 

This is happening, you tell yourself as you inhale a deep breath. You cannot believe that you are seconds away from actually fucking your brother’s best friend. It feels hot and naughty—risky—but the thought itself is so damn enticing that your body is humming with new desire. 

Jaebum licks his lips and wraps his hand around his rigid cock. His gaze remains on you as he slowly strokes himself, getting himself harder. The sight of him touching himself while watching you does wild things to your mind. It feels exhilarating, and you don’t even question if this sensation has anything to do with the drink you had earlier, knowing that this is all because of him. 

Feeling brazen under his gaze, you move your hands to trace your skin, going up until you reach your bare breasts. Gently, you cup the soft flesh with your palms and begin kneading, and embrace the waves of heat rolling through your body. The sensation gets stronger when you watch him licking his lips, his hand moving slightly faster, as if watching you has put him in a trance. 

“Are you going to just stand there and watch? Or am I going to have to do this alone?” you tease him with a low voice that sounds completely unfamiliar to your own ears, while slowly folding your legs up, spreading them open to show him where you want him to be. 

A groan slips out of his lips as he watches you, enthralled, and Jaebum hastily climbs the bed, moving swiftly to cover your body with his. “I already promised that I’ll be the one showing you everything,” he grumbles as he covers your wrists with his hands and gently pulls them away from your chest. Holding your wrists together in one hand, he brings them over your head and keeps them there. 

“Hold still,” he whispers, as if restraining you wouldn’t be enough to keep you from moving. “And try to keep your voice down this time. We don’t know if anyone is going to find their way up here.” 

He covers your mouth with his and your body relaxes against his as you lean into the kiss. He presses you down into the bed under his weight and starts running his free hand down your body. You feel his touch on your breast, already sensitive after your teasing touch, and your chest arches into his palm. 

Jaebum pinches your nipples, and then he bends down, his mouth capturing one peak after another, tongue swirling around the tips until they become hard and raw. 

“Ah, fuck—” you curse with a gasp when each brush of mouth and finger sends delicate sparks that travel all the way down to your core. Everything inside you throbs—not of pain, but pleasure—and you can no longer hold back the cries coming out of your lips when Jaebum latches on one nipple and gives a light bite. 

Hearing your voice, Jaebum releases his mouth from your throbbing nub with a pop and pulls back just enough for you to look at his face. Under the shadows of the limited lights filtering through the windows, his gaze feels intimidating, yet enthralling at the same time. The way he looks at you makes you feel desirable that it unleashes everything inside you that you never knew existed.

“I told you to keep your voice down,” he complains with a deep voice that sounds almost like a growl. “Anyone can hear you if they get anywhere close, and it won’t be long for your brother to find out what we’re doing.” 

“I thought you were willing to risk it?” you tease him, which only makes his eyes grow darker. 

“Are you challenging me?” he asks you with a low voice. It stirs the insides of your belly, yet you ignore it for the moment and shrug playfully. 

“What if I am?” 

A low chuckle rumbles from him. There is a dark glint in his eyes as he gently pulls your thigh up, folding your leg until your hips are slightly lifted from the bed. A wicked smile spreads on his face as he leans down, pressing his lips on the corner of your lips and murmurs, “Naughty girl.” 

Anticipating a kiss, you never expect to feel pain flashing from the side of your bare bottom, inflicted by none other than his wandering palm. 

“Hey!” 

Opening your eyes widely, you see him grinning with pride. He tightens his hold on your wrists to keep you still as you wriggle beneath him while he runs his other hand around the burn from his unwarranted smacking.

“What? Don’t naughty girls deserve to be punished and spanked?” 

Something sparks inside you. While you are more inexperienced compared to him, you have learned about a variety of sex plays that one could enjoy in bed to know what he is doing. “Oh, so you like that kind of game, huh?” 

Jeabum bites your bottom lip. “It’s not a game, baby. I like to be in control,” he murmurs, then lifts his head to look into your eyes to ask, “Are you afraid of me? Will that scare you?” 

Nibbling your lips, you consider his words. You’ve never known that pain could be so pleasing. Your skin still burns after the impact of his light spanking, yet it seems to amplify the pleasure pulsing right inside your core when the pain is slowly subsiding under his incessant touch. 

“No,” you answer with a whimper, “Not at all.” You stop fighting his restraint and instead use it as leverage as you push your hips upward, taunting him, “Come on, show me how you’re going to punish me for being bad.” 

“Fuck,” he chuckles nervously, stunned, but is quick to recover as he folds your legs up and smacks the other side of your butt in response. A sharp gasp leaves your lips when you feel the sting, which turns into a soft sigh as he gently rubs the pain away, giving you a brief moment of respite before landing another smack near the tender skin that he first touched. 

Jaebum repeats the light smacking a couple of more times, going back and forth from one side to another, always followed by gentle touches to soothe the pain away. By the time he is done, the pain no longer stings so badly. The throbbing on your skin has travelled deep into your center, replacing every bit of pain with pleasure so raw that is barely comprehensible to your mind.

“Oh, you liked it, didn’t you?” Jaebum teases you with a low whisper, chuckling softly at the way you are rocking your hips against his palm. Letting go of your hand, he holds down your hips and slips his fingers between your folds, humming softly as he is met with your slick arousal. 

“Look at you, getting hot and wet after a bit of spanking. I never expected that you would have this wanton side hidden under your good girl facade,” he keeps muttering as he continues pushing his fingers inside your heat, moving them between your throbbing walls at a languid pace while you begin rocking back into his fingers. “I kind of like this side of you.” 

You can barely hear his voice at this point. Your mind is blinded by the sensations you are feeling. Incoherent noises keep coming out of your lips, and your body is moving on its own, chasing for every bit of pleasure you can get from his touch. 

Jaebum bends down, pressing his lips on the tip of your breasts. “Fuck, I want to be inside you so bad, baby,” he mutters breathlessly between giving your nipples teasing kisses. The touch of his lips feels distracting, along with the steady thrusts of his fingers inside your heat as pleasure rocks through your body, making it hard for you to focus on his words. Yet you still don’t miss what he is trying to say.

Rocking your hips against his, you look up through your bleary eyes and whisper, “Yes, please. I need you…inside me…now.” 

You are not one to beg for anything. Ever. Nothing like this. But the need to feel him is clawing at your chest. You want him. Your body needs him. And there is nothing that can stop you from begging him to let you have him. 

Jaebum says nothing, but his actions are enough to answer your plea. Pushing his fingers deeper, he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing the flesh just enough to send your body spiralling towards the edge. 

Trying your best to hold back your cries, you bite your lip and bury your fingers on his shoulders. But Jaebum isn’t one to let you go off easily. With his mouth still working around your breast, he gives your nipple a lick, before capturing the hardened nub between his mouth. You feel him humming against your skin, right around your puckered flesh, before a searing pain sparks across your body when he bites down. 

“Ah…fuck. Jaebum!” 

Screaming out his name, you almost cry as your orgasm tears right through your body. While it’s not yet enough to satiate your need, it is still enough to make you feel like you are floating up high. Every cell in your body sings, all coming alive under his touch, and the heat unfolding in your core spreads like wildfire. 

Before you can recover, Jaebum has already made his move. Looking pleased with himself, a smile spreads on Jaebum’s face as he pulls back, dragging his fingers carefully out of your pulsing heat, leaving behind the rapid throbbing inside you to fill the void he left behind. 

Without wasting any more time, he rises on the bed and pulls your ankles up to his shoulders, keeping your hips elevated. Then he presses forward and drives his full length into your quivering core with one firm thrust. You cry out loudly at the force of his thrust. You may have gotten slick and wet enough for him to slide in easily, but your pussy is still sensitive after the multiple orgasms that the intrusion drives a delicious pain that rocks your entire body. 

Your back arches off the bed, and he is quickly drawn towards your full breasts as they once again rise before his eyes. His hand that isn’t holding your thigh up reaches down to give your soft flesh a firm hold.

He gives your breast a gentle knead, taking away your attention from the tightness down below as he begins to fuck you hard with deep rhythmic thrusts, his hard shaft plundering your body. 

“Oh…oh, God!” you keep sputtering random words when you feel the pleasure rising inside you like a tidal wave.

He continues driving into you, getting deeper with each thrust and sending you almost slipping on the bed. His hands move down, gripping your hips to pull you back to him before you are pushed all the way back to the end of the bed. Driving you back against him allows him to get deeper. You feel the force knocking the air out of your chest, while waves of pleasure keep rolling through your body with each thrust, each rock of his hips, and you find yourself already hanging over the edge of your climax. 

You reach up, grasping a hold of his strong arms as you join the rhythm of his thrusts, rocking and pushing against him at the same pace, until you begin to feel the ripples of your climax rising, uncoiling, ready to devour you as you quickly reach for the edge. 

Opening his eyes, Jaebum drops one of your legs, keeping hold of the other just to keep you spread open for him as he bends forward, enveloping your body with his. His mouth finds yours then, kissing you deeply to swallow the sounds of your moans. Then his lips begin to move away, going down your chin, crawling its way to the column of your throat, before going up again to capture your earlobe. 

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you for so long,” he whispers to your ear, too soft of a voice for such dirty words that it makes your head spin hearing it coming from him. Then he thrusts forward, pressing deeper before he begins rocking again, hard and fast, he continues pumping his thick cock into the depth of your warmth. “Fuck, you feel so damn good!” 

You give in to the rising pleasure, your head falling back into the pillows while your chest once again rises and arches with how intense it feels. Your mind is filled with bliss, that you can barely focus on his words, or anything else that is happening around you. 

The party below seems so far away, even if you can still hear the beat of the music vibrating through the floor and walls. But none of it matters now. What matters to you right now is him; the pace of his thrusts that continue relentlessly without fail, moving faster and harder, and the way he is working your body with his expert hands. 

The grip that he has on your hips feels unyielding, anchoring you to him while denying you escape as he chases for his climax. You can feel his fingers pressing harder into your skin, nails scrapping on your soft flesh, no doubt leaving some marks and indents that you may find much later on once everything is over. 

“Are you close?” he breathlessly asks while moaning, showing you signs of his coming release. 

The answer coming out of your mouth sounds like a sharp cry, “Mmmh—yes!” 

Jaebum captures your chin and turns your face to look at him. “Keep your eyes on the door. You’ve been loud for a while now, and I know you didn’t lock the door when you came in,” he gently says, grinning as realisation dawns on you. He’s right. That was quite a risk to take for you to enter the room without locking and going further with this whole thing without checking things over. Fear grips at your chest, though it only intensifies the pulsing happening down below, right here he is burying his cock into. 

“What would your brother think if he sees you like this, writhing like a pure, little nymph and taking my hard cock deep inside your pussy?” Jaebum questions you with a voice so low it almost sounds like a growl. 

You have no idea which triggers the most delightful, yet the most carnal pleasure to roll through your body; the deep voice which vibrates from his chest, his dirty words that are planting these wicked images in your mind, the steady thrusts of his cock inside your heat, or the visual image of getting caught fucking your brother’s best friend, in your brother’s house, while people are partying downstairs and most possibly hanging out in the other rooms present on this floor.

“Fuck, you’re tightening around me. Thinking about getting caught turns you on, huh?” Jaebum says with a furious grunt, yet without missing a single thrust as he rocks his body against yours. He pushes deep and shudders, just as your walls are clenching tight around him. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s it, baby.” 

He keeps muttering the same words over and over again, coming together with his incessant thrusts. You watch as his eyebrows crease, as the veins in his neck are straining, his breathing laboured heavily, and the sounds he keeps making are mixed with a series of moans. You can feel the telltale signs of his release pulsing inside your depth, going in the same rhythm as yours as it begins to rapidly build up inside you. 

Getting lost in the pleasure, Jaebum digs his fingers into your hips and thighs as he continues to savagely pound into you. When once again his body shudders, your body pleasantly trembles at the same time. 

“Look at me, baby,” his strained voice growls, demanding your attention. And you simply give it to him, wanting to look at the one who is giving you this carnal pleasure right in the eyes just to convince yourself that this is real. 

Once your eyes are on him, your body is giving in to the pleasure, Jaebum moves his hand between your rocking bodies. You feel a slight pressure on your throbbing clit as his thumb finds your sensitive bud, and you can feel your muscles clamping around his cock, sucking around his girth as he slides in and out of you at a rapid pace. 

“Come for me, baby,” he growls, just in time you feel the coil in your stomach snapping, then he gives your clit a sharp flick while he buries himself deep inside you. “Come.” 

Under his command, you tip over the edge, shattering into a million pieces that shoot up through you like a fountain. Your chest feels tight when you scream out your climax, yet neither of you cares to stop it as he joins you with his deep moans. Jaebum continues giving you a couple of more thrusts, until you feel him shuddering at the same time your whole body quakes with your final release, and he joins you with a loud shout coming out of his lips, the warmth of his cum filling your tight walls that it almost sends you to another orgasm. 

You almost lose your sense of balance, when you can barely recognise between left and right, top to bottom, until you feel your body—now all hot and covered with sweat—pressing against the sheets beneath you, all messed up under your weight and the rigorous fucking, and the slickness of his cum seeping out of your throbbing center. 

When you feel him lowering your trembling leg down to the mattress, you slowly open your eyes, finding Jaebum bringing one of your hands to his lips. He kisses your wrist, before stepping away to grab his discarded shirt to start cleaning all the mess pooling on the apex of your thighs. 

“Do you think we were too loud?” you whisper to him once he is done and joins you back on the bed, lying right beside you with a content sigh. 

The sounds from the party below have started to grow distant, a sign that the party is slowly winding down, but not completely ending just yet. 

While the rest of the house is still filled with the remaining noises from the party, the room is filled with the silence that falls heavy once all the delirium comes to a halt. 

As you lie there on the bed, with the shards of your climax still continuing to course through your limbs while you are struggling to control your breath, you feel your body warming up with contentment and the presence of Jaebum’s body heat as he pulls you close to his chest. 

Meanwhile, your mind seems to have sobered up, allowing you to process everything that had just happened. 

As if he can feel the gears in your brain working hard, Jaebum shifts on the bed, and once again his face comes into view. 

“Want to get out of here? My new place is within walking distance from here. Maybe we can continue where we left off and finish the rest of the alcohol we still have before your brother catches us with the stolen goods.”

His offer seems genuine. It also provides a chance to escape the possibility of having to deal with reality, and everything else that involves your brother and facing the consequences of your actions. And you do still have some bottles to finish. 

“I like that idea.” 

Your body is still strained and sore, yet it doesn’t take long for both of you to get dressed and pack up all of the remaining bottles to take with you in your escape. 

You can barely remember how you manage to slip away from the house unnoticed, even with the party still lingering and your brother’s guests lounging tiredly everywhere you look, or how you are able to reach Jaebum’s new apartment on your wobbly legs. 

Everything blurs as you continue your business with Jaebum at his place for the rest of the night until morning comes, only that none of it involves finishing the rest of the alcohol that you’ve managed to snatch away from your brother’s party, but has everything to do with the lessons that Jaebum had promised you about embracing pleasure. And you make no effort to put a stop to it when Jaebum continues giving you pleasure until the next day comes, continuing while your minds are completely sober. 

Seems like you actually are terrible with all this one-night stand business, after all. 

— ©Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, or unsanctioned adaptations of any piece of writing posted on this blog are NOT allowed.

[destinationtoast]

Toastystats: Halloween fanworks!

So the thing is, I get to Blaze one post per month by virtue of having Tumblr Premium. And (while I have enjoyed Blazing pictures of my cats in the past) I thought perhaps this month people might enjoy some Halloween fandom stats + fic lists? So I threw something together. First, the stats:

Less that 1% of AO3 fanworks use the "Halloween" tag (or a subtag like "Happy Halloween" -- only 0.32%, in fact. But I found some big fandoms (10K+ works) that use a substantially higher-than-average rate of Halloweenery. (I couldn't look through every fandom on AO3, but I did look through all the fandoms with 10K+ fanworks as of January 2024. Note that some fandoms may write about Halloween a bunch without tagging it, and those aren't be captured here.)

Fall Out Boy leads the pack among these big fandoms, with nearly 1% of its fanworks using the "Halloween" tag or a subtag (0.93%). (I'd be curious to hear theories about why!) Some of the other fandoms shown above have a natural element of spookiness or horror (e.g., IT, Stranger Things), but many do not. The longer list is here. (These stats are based on pretty small numbers, btw, so please don't take these rankings too seriously. This is just a bit of fun.)

I also thought people might want to read some Halloween-themed fics from each of the above top 25 fandoms, so I highlighted works from each fandom that were complete and highly kudosed. If you're curious, the list includes this sort of info:

And I thought people might also appreciate Halloween-themed fics for different relationship categories (F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, xReader). Here's a screenshot of some of the fics in the relationship category list, if you're curious:

More information about how I created these lists below the cut.

Before we get there, could I interest you in taking a quick poll, since I am Blazing this post and curious about the audience Blaze reaches? Thanks -- and happy Halloween season! :)

The construction of these lists was definitely not an exact science. For each fandom or relationship category, I filtered to only show works with the "Halloween" tag. I then looked for complete fics in each fandom that appeared to actually be about Halloween or a spooky topic (based on their summary and/or a quick text search), and had a lot of kudos. (I didn't actually read these fanworks myself, though.) I also tried to diversify and make sure that each category included a variety of ships/fandoms. I ruled out collections of one-shots and things that appeared to be part of a long series such that they couldn't be read as a standalone. I also ruled out things that looked like incredible bummers, and honestly a few things that had major grammatical errors in the summaries.

But I linked to more in each case, so you don't have to visit the example fics I highlighted -- you can explore more on your own!

Also -- I did a lot of copy/pasting, and there may be errors in here. Feel free to let me know if you find any. Thanks, and enjoy!

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.” 

 It was just a kiss. 

“Green Four check.” 

 It was just a-

“Green Five check.” 

Just a-

“Green Six check.” 

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 

Simple. 

In theory. 

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 

You swallow. 

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 

I hadn’t just been a kiss. 

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 

It made a lot more sense. 

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 

They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 

Sickness bubbled in your throat. 

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 

Hank chortled. 

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 

Yeah. Now you had. 

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter. 

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed. 

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 

“Fuck.” 

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 

“How far away is the Delta?” 

“Calling in attack pattern!” 

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 

That didn’t bode well. 

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 

Good. 

But there’s so, so many of them. 

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 

Frizz.

“No…” 

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal. 

Nothing. 

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 

All you need is…

Another alarm. 

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 

A chorus of yells answer you. 

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact. 

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 

Two chances left. 

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 

Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit. 

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 

The canon doesn’t go down. 

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

.

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 

Make it look like you had a weapon. 

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 

Can’t let them take you alive. 

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull  yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

.

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 

You snort. 

He smiles. 

“Who did we lose?” 

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 

You nod. 

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 

“You pushed her away?” 

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 

You scoff. 

“You are.” He kisses you again. 

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 

You touch his cheek lightly. 

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[kmackatie]

Tarquin / Ashur Fic Rec List - Part One

So you've played Dragon Age: The Veilguard (or had dash osmosis) and want to read about the fantasy pope moonlighting as a vigilante and a resistance fighter tired of his job falling in love? Being two idiots in love? Well! Do I have the post for you!

Look no further, here are a collection of fics to get you started.

Honestly, I recommend the entire tag which I read (at the time, it was 8 pages on AO3) in its entirety but I know not everyone is insane so I wanted to get back to a little fic rec list and put together a (non-exhaustive!) list of a few favourites.

I added part one to the title because I'm optimistic about writing another one later. Without any further ado, here we go.

Snatched from the jaws of an ending world by SkyScribbles/@sky-scribbles (1/1 chapters, 5,089 words, rated T, no warnings)

This was the first tashur fic I read and set off what was a simmering interest into full blorbo mode. A blighted Ashur throwing himself in danger and a Tarquin who can't bear it anymore.

You fill the emptiness behind the masks I wear by SkyScribbles/@sky-scribbles (1/1 chapters, 4,205 words, rated E, no warnings)

Yes, a second Sky fic, however, they are both excellent and are set in the same timeline (though both can be read independently!) Ashur is losing himself to the blight, and Tarquin is there to remind him of why he needs to keep living. Also some incredibly hot and tender smut.

The Templar, the Viper, and Other Masks by teddywesworl/ @teddywesworl (2/2 chapters, 13,996 words, rated E, no warnings)

A great fic of how Tarquin came to be a Shadow Dragon (and to find out Ashur's identity) which has been sitting with me since I read it. Great characterisation and writing, there is also a series with additional works!

The Sacred and the Profane by Sidney Sussex/@sidneysussex (chapters 1/1, 6,029 words, rated M, no warnings)

Crack taken seriously in the best of ways. This fic had me laughing at some moments (the end reveal is :chefskiss: wonderful) and just a fun comedy fic full of great characterisation.

Trials 1:11 by minrathian/@minrathian (works 4/4, combined 18,546 words, rated T-M, no warnings)

A series of fics both pre-and-post canon of Tarquin and Ashur meeting and falling in love. It's a lovely series of fics (seriously, everything minrathian writes is a delight!) and hits the spot of filling in how these idiots in love came to actually admit it.

5 Years / 5 Conversations by bendingwind/@bendingwind (works 5/5, combined 6,278 words, rated T-M)

Another series based around different conversations, how they met, and came to be. Bendingwind is another where you could just go through xer works and have a great time.

And right at the end, I'm linking to a collection of drabbles which spawned off the hivemind discord server (want to join? reach out!) and all of the are worth a read!

Tarquin/Viper Drabbles by various authors (myself included!)

Missed one of your favourites? Drop it below!

[pookie-mulder]

October 2024 fic roundup

👶☑️ Beginnings by @television-overload

The most perfect follow-up to Of Our Own Making! Seeing m&s fall in love and go on their first date AFTER getting married and having a child together is just precious. (Especially Mulder’s “will u go out with me” note!) I love their unconventional relationship so much.

🐓🍽️ Untitled by @aloysiavirgata

This little fic is hilarious! I love Mulder getting the chance to be subtly petty towards Bill. I also love to see MSR being so domestic and settled down in the unremarkable house.

blue prints by @foxmulders

(Couldn’t find an ao3 link to this one)

Oof. This one hurts in the best way. It’s everything you want for these characters that they never got to have. It’s fluff, but it feels like angst because it’s a reminder of what the Mulder-Scully family could have been. I love it!

🛁🫧 the alchemy by @leiascully

I absolutely adore “platonic” intimacy that happens when they’re not quite together, and this fic starts out that way and ends in some incredibly satisfying RST. For such a short fic, this one sure does pack a punch! One of my favorites from fictober.

🕳️📍 You Send Me by spookynerd

The silliest premise leads to the sweetest romance! I love to see Mulder all pathetic and pining. My favorite line: “I’m in love. I think it’s terminal.”

🧜‍♀️💍 mermaids, native to montana by @foxmulders

I read this one a while ago and recently stumbled across it again. It’s the type of fluff with an undercurrent of sadness that creates such a powerful sense of longing. If you’re a fan of an unconventional marriage fic, read this one!

🛌🚂 Untitled by @myassbrokethefall

I usually steer clear of revival fics (I haven’t even been able to bring myself to watch it yet) but this one is just so darn sweet! I’d like to go back in time and show CC a copy of this fic so he writes it into the show.

🎂💌 Birthday Blues by Donnilee

I’m a fan of an author who can turn the silliest, most improbable situations seem probable, and this fic delivers. Read it if you’re a fan of tropey goodness and smut that’s as adorable as it is hot.

💇‍♀️💥 By the Dim and Flaring Lamps by @sunflowerseedsandscience

I was in the mood for a historical setting, and this Civil War AU fit the bill! One of my favorite things was its exploration of 19th-century gender roles, not to mention the unconventional romance.

🇮🇪🏰 Katherine of Ireland by Jenna Tooms

If you’re a fan of Hiraeth (as I am), you’ll love this one! It has a very similar setting and plot. The writing styles are very different, though, so it’s not like they’re carbon copies of each other or anything.

Anyway, this fic is achingly romantic, with plenty of lines that take your breath away.

(If you want the epub for easier reading, let me know!)

🏝️👻 Waldron Island by @sisterspooky1013

Like Gaslight, this fic features M&S not being able to trust their own minds. However, this time, it’s for horror reasons, not sci-fi reasons. Regardless, that concept is one of my favorites to explore in fiction, so I absolutely devoured this spooky fic! (And the ending scene? 😫🔥🥵🥹‼️)

😈🪞 Succumbing to the Truth by OnlyTheInevitable

If you liked Waldron Island, you’ll love this one! It’s a similar concept, but lies more in the casefic genre rather than straight-up horror. I loooove the way it uses the plot (a succubus demon) to force M&S closer together and finally talk about their feelings. It’s one of those fics where you can see where it’s going, which adds anticipation and makes the ending so much sweeter!

🥤🛍️ Inevitable by @thefinestmuffins

This alternate version of the car conversation in Tooms is an incredible Scully character study that’s absolutely dripping with UST. For a short fic, it truly packs a punch! One of my favorite parts is this: “On the Dana Scully list of priorities, want figures very, very low. It’s not that she doesn’t possess it in great quantity, it’s just that she fights like hell to rate it less highly than ambition, dignity, control, pragmatism, self-sufficiency, stability.”

[emo-markie]

*:･ﾟ✧ Supernatural oc/reader fic recs

I like to read. So I read. A lot. This is my curated selection of fics that make me feral. I highly recommend checking out the creators!

REMEMBER TO READ THE TAGS!

Last updated : October 10, 2024

red means work in progress

blue means complete work

(sorted by alphabetic order)

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SAM WINCHESTER

Birdcage Fires by FallingDomino on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

After finding a naked girl on a lonely stretch of California road on a stormy night, Sam doesn't have long to try and help the amnesiac girl before Dean drags him back into the life of hunting. Over the past three years, he never really forgot her, but when they reunite, the brothers discover something much more sinister about the night Sam saved her. Sam/OC, Before S1, skips to S4

Complex by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Sam Winchester will do whatever it takes to save his brother from Hell. When all else fails, he tries a spell—and botches it. Cassandra Holmes awoke from uneasy dreams and found herself transported to a fictional universe. Cass wants to go home. Sam wants his brother back. Maybe, working together, they can both get what they want.

Pie and Consqeuences by SteelRigged on AO3

Rating: T

Dean’s eyebrows were popping off his face. He looked at Sam, who had pie falling off his nose, and swallowed a smile. "You're getting slow, Sam," Dean said, and patted his brother on the shoulder. Sam wiped pie from his cheeks and chin. Veronica's rage had caught him off guard. She was one of the few people from his past he was still on good terms with. At least he thought they had been on good terms. At least neutral terms. Not pie in the face terms. “Oh Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean muttered, glowing with pleasure. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there. You probably deserved it.”

pythia - a supernatural rewrite by uncouth-the-fiffth on AO3

Rating: T

John goes missing. Like every time you use your Gift to track him down, it's hardly for his own sake. If it weren't for Dean, trembling under that too-big jacket on your stoop and working up the courage to even say Sam's name, you'd happily never think about their father ever again. Or what you're doing to Sam's life by pulling him back into the hunt. If it was up to you, John Winchester would never be heard from again. But the boys need you. So, you go.

I highly recommend checking out the author's other fics here: uncouth's spn fics

The LightBringer by I_Am_A_Silver_Lining on AO3

Rating: E

Waking in the body of Lucifer, having their memories and powers, should have been horrible. And it was... ...Until it wasn't OR Kore wakes up as Lucifer, powers, memories and all. She is still herself with a little something sinister sprinkled in and decides to rip up the script and throw the apocalypse out the door. However, her True Vessel seems to still believe she wants to get in him, but he'd MUCH rather have it the other way around... OR OC invades Supernatural and takes over the world one piece of trash at a time. with ART

This Untraveled Road (series) by BAPWarrior18 on AO3

By Fate or Free Will

Rating: M

In the year 2003, a witch unleashed a powerful spell that drastically altered the fates of thousands of girls and women around the world. Some were killed. Some were protected. Many went about their lives or deaths unknowing of their transformed purpose. However, each were meant to be soldiers in the war against evil. Each were meant to tip the scales in the favor of good. For one in particular, there would have been no tipping of the scales… if not for some higher being’s determination to piggyback not only on the spell, but on the things that had already been set in motion by demons. OR In which the Winchesters meet the original breed of hunter, causing tiny ripples that turns their world on its head. And brings forth the war of change. For better or worse.

War of Change

Rating: M

THE ROAD SO FAR… The Winchesters met their bespoke Slayer, shifting the balance of their lives and unknown to them, the fate of the world. The Catalyst awakened new paths, altered goals, and shifted motivations. Like a drop in a pond transforming into a tsunami. As intended. Six Special Children survived Cold Oak. Four Slayers fought at the opening of the Devil’s Gate. One Slayer met death and lived. One Slayer confessed and vanished. All the while, two beings of undefined purpose watched and plotted. None could have predicted the drastic turn of events caused by the union of Slayers and Champions. NOW Demons and hunters scramble to make sense of the new world order. Some revel in the change. Some attempt to fix the balance. Others struggle to carry out carefully constructed plans. In the meantime, the Winchesters navigate what it means to be Champions. The Catalyst comes to understand her true gift. And the purpose of The Connected becomes clear.

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DEAN WINCHESTER

one of these nights by uncouth-the-fifth on AO3

Rating: E

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?” “Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.” “Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby."

This Curse On Our House by Sonny13 on AO3

Rating: M

Faith has battles in her bones and nothing left to lose; a dangerous combination, but perfect for a hunter. But she's got demons out for her blood, convinced she can break some kind of curse, and they call her the Child of War - whatever that means. Things might be a little easier if Dean Winchester wasn't so damn frustrating.

Toil and Trouble by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: M

What’s the best way to infiltrate a coven? Be a witch. What does a modern witch need these days… Dean is going to be your familiar. He really wants to be a dog. He's not going to be a dog, and it works out way better and messier than either of you planned.

“Yeah, I have a Great Dean.” by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: E

Dean is a good boy.

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CASTIEL

Angel 101 by kittenofdoomage on AO3

Rating: E

The angels are dying out in huge numbers, and Castiel, searching for a way to save Jack from being used by them, and to also save them, is called by another angel to assist in what he thinks may be the solution.

Branded by ObliviousApple on AO3

Rating: E

Basically, the first time Cas ever touches you, a brand appears on your arm. A brand that says his name in Enochian. Come along for the ride as you try to stop the apocalypse, save the Winchester's from their own idiocy, and fall in love with our favorite feathered bastard. Spoiler alert: the brand is a soulmate mark. Who saw that coming?!

David by therev on AO3

Rating: T

What if the person who found amnesiac!Cas when he stumbled out of that river in Colorado had been a man and not a woman? And what if when Dean caught up with him, he found that Cas had a husband? And what if he was a real character and not the throw-away that they made Daphne?

Empire State of Mind by saprrowed on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

Castiel makes a friend in New York City. And like many New York sitcoms, this is a story about nothing.

Feathers by enter_the_phantom on AO3

Rating: T

The giving of feathers and the revealing of wings is a sacred act for an angel, and it's something Castiel doesn't take lightly. But if there's one human he'd enter into such a close bond with, it's Abby Singer, the Winchesters' hunting partner and adopted sibling. Whenever he's around them, he feels things he's never felt before, and as strange as these new emotions are, he doesn't want them to stop. Unfortunately for him, Abby isn't the most receptive to his presence. They've been stubbornly opposed to his awkward attempts at friendship ever since they first met. In fact, it feels like he's the only one who can't seem to forge a relationship with the prickly hunter. Even more unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter anyway, because another angel has already beaten him to it.

Gas-n-sip by eratothemuse on AO3

Rating: E

You just needed a job. Who knew that getting one at your local Gas-n-Sip would end up like this? (Set in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait”)

Guardian Angel by ZonateBiscuit on AO3

Rating: M

When you feel lost, you begin to pray. Charlie Crivens is lost, but she's not sure anyone can hear her. Slow build Castiel/OFC

I Was A Stranger And You Welcomed Me by dorkilysoulless on AO3

Rating: E

Whoever he is, he's either homeless or hitching. He's also too damn pretty not to take home.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim on AO3

Rating: T

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”  “If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story. For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

The Original Cambion by thereluctantshipper on AO3

Rating: E

Just as they're gearing up to stop the apocalypse, Bobby, Dean, Sam, and more importantly, Castiel, meet the original Cambion, a half-demon half-human hybrid. And she wants to... Help them? OFC insert, starts roughly S5E16, will not follow story all the way through.

Questions and Answers by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

Castiel is becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his vessel. He comes to you with some questions.

Where Angels Fear To Tread by OrigamiDoll on AO3

Rating: E

Reader meets the Winchesters and Castiel when they roll through town on a hunt. They inadverdently expose her to the supernatural and turn her world view upside down. Soon, her house becomes a frequent detour for the boys and a friendship begins to blossom between the reader and Team Free Will. Castiel finds himself fascinated by the reader. Where will things lead?

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CROWLEY

Dead Body Moving by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Nell never expected to return from her cross-country roadtrip, but when a fellow camper goes missing during her stay at the Grand Canyon, she may live far, far longer than she expected.

Like I'm Not Made of Stone by ProlixInSpace on AO3

Rating: E

In ancient Mesopotamia, one careless death-goddess invents a cruel curse. Its singular victim can never die, but will rather live the last single year of a random human life somewhere in time, every year, forever and ever. In Hell, a belligerent soul takes centuries of abuse from Lilith herself, and is molded through her cruel tutelage into something darker, more ambitious, and cleverer by far than your standard-issue demon. A pair like that can only become more than the sum of their parts.

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GABRIEL

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) by bumbleberrysky on AO3

Rating: T

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe... Chuck works in mysterious ways after all. [divergent around s13/the end of s13-- will likely have spoilers]

Along For the Ride by MyPurpleSkies on AO3

Rating: T

Danielle Awenasa Callaghan thought being a hunter was complicated enough. That is until she joins the Winchesters along for one hell of a ride that involves repeatedly saving the world from danger, falling for a Trickster that's more than he seems, hiding the fact that your godfather isn't exactly human from the boys you're beginning to see as part of your family, and discovering that she and the King of Hell share a mutual appreciation for David Bowie's music. Not to mention being told by a cupid that she's met her soul mate already. Oh, let's not forget that she nearly died and was saved by some mysterious stranger that Death refuses to tell her the identity of.

I Want to Tell you by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

He can’t tell her when she’s drunk. That wouldn’t be right. He’ll tell her tomorrow. He’ll bring her coffee and let her shower and then he’ll sit her down. Tomorrow. It’s definitely time. He has to get this off his chest and tomorrow is the day.

Kibble by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: T

Sam and Dean ask Gabriel to cat sit for you, and it leads to a surprising discovery.

Third Time's a Charm by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: E

Gabriel unexpectedly comes to your aid and reveals a part of himself you never expected to see.

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SIBLING OC

Dynamics of an Asteroid by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: T

Sam thumped a photo album down onto her desk. Beneath the thin film of dust, the cover was dark burgundy. Margo recognized it at once. “Ah.” He was here for the other reason, then. The one she’d always dreaded, even if she’d imagined it more than a few times over the years. He was here because that photo album contained pictures of Margo from the time she was born through the time she was in high school. A rare few of them even showed her together with John Winchester—Sam’s father. And also, incidentally, her father. She was not prepared for this conversation.

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CHILD OC

Along Came Sophie by LaceyoftheTypewriter on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

Dean is still fighting supernatural crime with Sam when a pretty young plot twist named Sophie Gardner shows up claiming to be Dean's 15-year-old daughter. As she worms her way into his heart, he comes to realize what exactly he's been missing, and how far he'll go to fix what's broken.

Light of mine by TheTardyOwl on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

A Fledgling is almost killed during one of Michael and Lucifer's explosive arguments. Gabriel steps into the role of Caretaker for the little Angel and discovers that his new charge isn't what he expected.

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PLATONIC OC

Student Housing by darkshrimpemotions on AO3

Rating: T

Sam decides to rent out rooms in the bunker to college students. Finding yourself in a housing bind just before the start of your sophomore year, you decide the dirt cheap rent is worth the risk that your landlords might be serial killers.

[kaykebitez]

Arcane Arousals (Rolan x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit Category: F/M Pairing: Rolan/Tav; Rolan/Female Reader Status: Complete Chapters: 1 Word Count: 6,838

Tags:

POV Second Person, Unnamed Tav (Baldur's Gate), Wizard Tav (Baldur's Gate), Location: Sorcerous Sundries (Baldur's Gate), Female Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tav is Not Described (Baldur's Gate), Banter, Mutual Pining, Teasing, Inappropriate Use of Telekinesis, Vaginal Sex, Clothed Sex, Desperation, Sloppy Makeouts, reader is a shit, Wizard Banter, You Tease Rolan Until He Snaps, Feral Rolan, But Still Kinda Submissive, Shameless Smut

Summary:

You're an accomplished wizard and in the wake of the Netherbrain's defeat, the hero of Baldur's Gate. In the aftermath of the mindflayer invasion, you move into Ramazith's Tower with Rolan, technically taking on the role of his 'apprentice', even though you have several years of teaching experience under your belt at Blackstaff, pre-tadpole. Rolan is insufferable, prickly, and very obviously into you, but he hasn't made a single move towards you, and it's starting to drive you just as crazy as his ego is.

So, one day, after taking verbal potshots at each other that wind up with Rolan giving a demonstration of a new spell he's learned... you decide to test his concentration. By any means necessary.

You also want to see just how far you can push the bratty wizard until he snaps.

AKA: You (Tav) tease Rolan until he can't take it anymore and you fuck on the floor. That's it. That's the fic.

READ ON AO3

Snippet Below the Cut

“Rolan, for the last time, Spectres & Spectral Weave Incantations belongs in the Evocation section, not in the Necromancy section,” you chide, plucking the tome from the dusty shelf in Ramazith’s library to pass off to one of several mage hands that float animatedly around the room. The noonday sun streams in the stained-glass windows, and sorting books would be a wonderful, relaxing way to spend an afternoon up here, if it weren’t for the insufferably prickly tiefling wizard insistent on mucking up your carefully-curated organization strategy.

Rolan whips his head around from where he was rifling through books on a different shelf, letting out an irritated huff through his nose. “By Vivri Arevi? The necromancer?” he says, the emphasis on the last word reminding you much of how one would speak to a small child. The tone has your hackles raising already, but more than annoyance is the overwhelming desire to put this pompous arse in his place.

“Just because the author was a necromancer doesn’t mean all of her writings are classified as Necromancy,” you say, directing the mage hand to shelve the book in its proper place across the way, watching as Rolan’s honey-gold eyes follow the hand with annoyance. “Honestly, have you even read the thing? You’d know within the first few pages it’s clearly an Evocation text.”

“I don’t know what kind of time you think I have these days,” Rolan says with a scoff. “But between running the shop and re-organizing this disaster Lorroakan left, there’s little time left in the day to pour over obscure texts.”

“Obscure?” You snort, stepping down from the ladder you’ve been perched on to place your feet on the floor. “That’s a second-year text for students at Blackstaff. I think I could recite the prologue forwards and backwards. Honestly, Rolan, as talented as you are you’re remarkably under-read.”

It’s a cheap shot, sure, and Rolan’s tail thrashes as he glares at you. But after everything you’ve been through together, this kind of bantering is normal for the two of you, and you flash him a teasing grin, even if the gleam in your eyes is a little mean.

“Is that any way to speak to your master, Tav?” he shoots back at you, all sharp teeth and smug satisfaction. Oh. You’re playing ball today, alright.

As the de-facto ‘master’ of the tower, that makes you his apprentice. Although it’s more of an in-joke between the two of you rather than a true master-apprentice relationship. You taught at Blackstaff Academy before you were forcibly abducted by mindflayers and infected with a tadpole. Your abilities zapped, you were forced to save Faerun with little more than a first-year’s spell knowledge, and unfortunately, the full scope of your talents haven’t returned in the wake of the netherbrain’s defeat. You couldn’t very well go back to your old life as an instructor at your level, so you stayed in Baldur’s Gate, Rolan graciously offering you a place to stay at the tower in return for saving his and his siblings’ hides multiple times over.

 And so, on paper, you’re technically his apprentice, but it’s in name only. While your spellcasting abilities took a hit thanks to the tadpole, your knowledge certainly didn’t. Considering Rolan is entirely self-taught, you find yourself often teaching him things, when he’s not getting on your nerves or you’re not riling him up, that is. In fact, you’ve both grown as wizards in the last two months of working together, you in power and him in knowledge. It’s been an enjoyable working relationship, to say the least, and his company isn’t bad, either. You almost rather like living at the tower with him and his siblings; it’s less lonely than your solitary teacher’s dormitory back at Blackstaff, that’s for sure.

You eat dinner with him most nights, talking about all things arcane until your food’s gone cold and you’ve both sunk nearly a full bottle of wine. When Rolan isn’t trying to posture, isn’t trying to be the ‘best wizard in the realms’, he’s almost rather charming. You could even consider the two of you close friends.

But that doesn’t mean that Rolan, the bastard, won’t rub in your face that he’s your ‘master’ at any chance he gets.

Which is why it’s now become your hobby to knock this young brat down a few pegs each day.

It’s simply the natural order of things.

[mamawasatesttube]

hello!! do you have a tag on here for fics you love & recommend to people, or are there any gold standard kon/tim/timkon fics you’ve come across? (currently suffering bc straight on ‘til morning is a masterpiece, but no one writes these characters quite the way you do, and i was not having a good time in the timkon ao3 tag……)

thank you!! :D man i keep thinking about doing a sotm rewrite because now that i've read more comics i just keep thinking i wish i had a scene with the steels in there, and also chris, and more of kara, and also followup on kon's relationship with mae vs his relationship with linda and how that impacted him in the abandonment issues, and-- um. anyways.

that's all off topic HAHA i just keep rotating it in my mind. man. but thanks!! as a matter of fact, i do have a #fic rec tag! it's ficlets and general stuff too, not just timkon, but there's some goodies in there.

(and augh. you have my utmost sympathies. the ao3 timkon tag is a cesspool. every time i look at it i add to my mute/block list 😔 same with the tumblr timkon tag honestly. its rough out here.)

ANYWAYS!! overall, i'd say some of my favorite timkon fics are:

blush by @misspickman my beloved. i love when kon gets loved :) and has issues. but mostly gets LOVED. (rated M!)

fill in the blanks by @mindshelter for similar reasons. get loved idiot!!! its just so cute i love this one.

freefall by @lemontongues i also love when kon is competent (konpetent) and tim is a little bit stupid :)

practical applications of a memorized heartbeat by @comphetkoncass because, again, i looove when kon gets to be konpetent!!! also get wrecked tim (<- said with love)

AND it's not timkon but i would be remiss in making a rec list that didn't include i want your complications too by @loisinherlane. her single dad clark with 7yo clone kon au is so important to me. baby kon trying to impress his dad's girlfriend is just so cute. augh!!!

[aziraphales-library]

Hi all! I've been craving some fantasy au slow burn but have been wanting something longer than 50k words (I want to be in for the long haul). I've been reading Beauty and the Beast AUs but I could work with something similar/fusion. (I've already read "The Serpent and the Angel" and "Choose Your Princes Wisely" and loved them both) If you can't manage fantasy au then post-s1 would work as well :)

Give me longing! Give me shy touches and stolen looks! Fluff, angst, and/or hurt/comfort, E rating is welcome. Thanks!

Hey. We have a #fantasy au tag, so check that out. There aren't loads of fantasy fics over 50k with slow burn/pining, so searching ao3 was really simple. Here ya go...

I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)

In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…

through the silent wood by summerofspock (M)

When Aziraphale Eastgate first moves to Tadfield, he struggles to understand the strange culture of the village. They're not friendly or kind or anything he expected from a village in the north. So when he rescues a snake from a snow storm, he's glad for a little company even if it comes in the form of an animal. Unfortunately, in Tadfield, animals are often not what they seem.

Dragon's Heart by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

“No dear Aziraphale. It must live” She answered him, and turned her gaze to the massive, sleeping beast. Just then Aziraphale noticed the great pool of dark blood that surrounded the thing where it lay. Blood from its wounds. He looked down at his feet and saw the dark blood pooling around his simple cloth shoes, soaking into the woolen fabric. He felt no revulsion or surprise over this. Only sadness and pity for the poor creature.  “It must live” the goddess repeated. “And you must go to it” Not one to refuse the request of a deity, Aziraphale nodded. “Very well then my Goddess” he replied. “When shall I go?” “At once” she replied. “And you must tell no one”

Faeted, Part One by megzseattle (G)

Ezra fell is an English professor at a prestigious academy for boys. Crowley is the lord of the Unseelie court in the lands without sunrise or moonfall. Somehow fate will bring them together.

Cast the Stone and Create the Ripple by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley stared at him, yellow eyes narrowing. “You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you. Never encountered your kind before. I suggest you get out of here because this much blood in the water is going to attract sharks.” He twisted around, attempting once again to try to dive into the depths, but without his tail free that was proving impossible. He struggled even harder upon seeing his so-called rescuer pull a knife out of his belt. “Not without you,” the land-dweller replied. “Hold still, please. These nets are meant to dig into skin the more one moves.” “If you're going to kill me, please make it quick. Long, painful discorporations seem like a bad way to go.” Prince Crowley is investigating the damage fishing vessels are doing to crops and homes in his father's underwater kingdom. Prince Aziraphale is supposed to be learning to become a scribe. Their worlds are about to collide, putting Crowley's life in danger and revealing that the land-dwelling angels and ocean-dwelling merdemons just might not be that different after all. (Rated T until Chapter 11 when it becomes more NSFW.)

Omens Of Another Kind by WorseOmens (NR)

Crowley is the Dullahan, a notorious omen of death. Happily ever after isn’t in the job description; he’ll soon meet someone who begs to disagree. (Good Omens Folklore AU)

- Mod D

[daimyosprincess]

WORTH THE RISK

—PAIRING: Dad's Friend!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.

—WORD COUNT: 10.8k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, dad’s friend!Boba, reader has parents mentioned in the story, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), secret relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), light choking, this is straight up filth y’all I’m not even joking, if the previous things are not your cup of tea this will not be the fic for you 🥴

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'll post this fic in a couple weeks! literally a month later here we are besties, the dad's friend Boba fic inspired by @maybege's post!! this fic ended up taking waaaay longer than I expected since the story took a turn I didn't plan for, but I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end! big shout out to Moss for betaing and all the besties who sent me incoherent emoji scrambles for my snippets along the way 💖 enjoy y'all!

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

Setting out the last of the dessert trays on your parents’ patio table, you swipe a hand over your forehead. A delightfully cool breeze ruffles the hem of your dress, signaling the coming summer evening and carrying the pleasant mixture of laughter and music from the backyard. Satisfied with the arrangement of treats, you look out over the party of family and friends gathered on the lawn: neighbors, coworkers, and family of all sorts gathered together for your parents’ annual cookout, which your father fondly calls the “Bar-bo-polooza” (and which your mother decidedly does not). 

Scanning the crowd, you spot her bouncing their neighbor’s baby girl on her hip while your father diligently lectures her partner on proper grilling techniques over his beer. A swarm of kids darts around the party in what appears to be a high stakes game of tag, while a gaggle of your aunties and Uncle Steven are clumped together in tight conversation over the latest gossip. A smile curls up your lips—nothing bridges the generational or cultural divide quite like a juicy piece of insider knowledge.

Giving the yard a final skim, you give up on locating your boyfriend and head for your chair by the fire pit. You’re no sooner settled when you feel your phone buzz.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Better give me those panties now, princess>

Your cheeks heat immediately reading Boba’s message. You still can’t see him from your seat, but you know wherever he is, he can certainly see you. Crossing your knees, you make sure your hem rides just high enough to still be considered appropriate for a family setting. Your phone vibrates again and your eyes dart to the new message on your screen.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: I’m not going to ask twice>

A heated shiver snakes down your spine, pooling in the dampness already nestled between your thighs. Your plan to tease Boba to the edge of insanity is already taking its toll. 

Logically, you know you shouldn’t be riling him up like this at a family function, but you can’t seem to stop yourself after he’s been out of town. You’ve missed his bone deep comfort, his small touches, and the safety of his arms. Hell, you’ve even missed the smell of him, breathing in that balmy spiciness that’s all his own. 

Of course, you’ve also missed his keen knack for making you black out with pleasure. But who could possibly blame you for that? The man is nothing short of a god when it comes to making you feel good, so it’s not your fault you rubbed him half hard in the driveway or brushed up against him in your flirty new sundress during the party set up. Besides, you’d been an absolute angel in his absence: texting him that you remembered to take your meds, drank enough water every day, and not touched where you wanted him most just like he asked.

Really, you’d been a complete saint. You only texted him those two dirty pictures because he asked for them. If anything, Boba should be rewarding you for your restraint instead of making you survive this cookout aching and desperate before he took you home and made good on all his filthy promises. Just the thought of what he said he’d do has your thighs pressing together. So, with a sly grin sneaking over your lips, you tap out a response.

<Or what? You can’t do shit with all these people around, old man>

Adrenaline pumping hot in veins, you hit send and click of your screen. You make a show of stretching so your tits press together, sure Boba’s got a laser focus on you after that message. 

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you chuck your phone into the seat you’re saving for your cousin, Ari. You search for their telltale blue hair and catch it over by the drinks table. No surprise there, of course.

“My, my, my, such a dirty little mouth on such a pretty little girl.”

A hot shock of electricity shoots down your spine. Boba’s sinful voice races across your skin deceptively gentle, like a blade wrapped in dark velvet: sheathed, but no less dangerous. 

Your pulse jumps under the thin skin of your throat. You don’t need to look up to know you’re in treacherous waters. His tone alone tells you everything you need to know—your “good” deeds never went unpunished with him, especially when you acted like you could get away with them. Putting your most dazzlingly innocent smile, you turn your face up to him, acting like you’re making pleasant conversation. “Wanna find out how dirty it can get?”

The corner of his lips twitch up. “Careful, princess.” His umber eyes burn with the unspoken magnitude of his threat. “You already owe me those pink panties of yours… don’t make me add to that list.”

Something hot and dangerous spikes in your core. You can practically feel his lips on your overheated skin, the scrape of his teeth down your neck. Luckily for your rapidly evaporating self-control, however, you catch Ari waving at you and you signal at their saved seat. The reprieve gives you a moment to swallow back the well of desire pressing against your throat. You’re already playing a dangerous game with your relationship—you really shouldn’t be adding to it by tempting fate, or Boba, in your parents’ backyard.

After moving to town two years ago, Boba and your dad had become fast friends, bonding over their love of classic cars and good whiskey. Freshly cut in your former employer’s downsizing, you had come home just after they had started spending weekends drinking and working on the old Chevy in your dad’s garage. It was over for you the second you saw him: broad shoulders, tanned, and impossibly gorgeous, Boba Fett was everything you ever wanted, wrapped up in a tight black t-shirt and well-fitted jeans. You never stood a chance.

For a torturous year you danced around your simmering mutual attraction, months filled with “accidental” touches and excuses to see each other more than strictly necessary for a daughter and her father’s friend. He gave you rides when your poor 2003 Toyota finally met its end, helped you move in with Ari, and even let you drunkenly cry on his shoulder at last summer’s cookout when you were sure your life was a failure. You really fell for him then. Hard.

Always teasing you with winks and flirty smiles, things finally came to a head at your parents’ New Year's Eve party. Scrabbling down the stairs for the countdown, you’d crashed right into him, his arms wrapping around your waist to halt your fall. By the time the voices outside yelled “Happy New Year,” you already had your hands (and mouths) all over each other.

The instant chemistry between you has only become more explosive since. In the almost six months of your relationship, you’ve orgasmed harder, louder, and more often than you thought was possible for a human being. But more importantly, you’ve also grown and learned a lot about yourself, with Boba coaxing you to embrace your needs without shame, both sexual and not. Mentally, you’re in a much better place than you were after you were let go from your dream job; and physically, well… you’ve never been more satisfied.

Of course, you’re not nearly ready to reveal all this to your parents. 

Boba has respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, despite his desire to claim you as his own every time your mother introduced you to some nice boy from her temp agency. Her mentioning that she invited “Kevin from Jimenez Landscaping” today is partially what made you decide on wearing the particular little sundress you had on. Not for him of course, but to drive Boba wild while you humored your mom and talked to the guy. The rest of your scheme—putting your hand down Boba’s pants behind his truck and digging yourself into a very deep hole over text—had been more or less spur of the moment.

Staring up at him now, dead serious with little patience left for mercy, has your insides twisting in tight, needy knots. Boba is a man of his word and not above leaving you unfulfilled when he thought you deserved it. Maker did he know how to make you squirm.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, doing your best to tamp down the need leaking into your voice. “I swear I’ll take them off when Ari gets back.” 

You might be a brat but you’re not stupid: you know when you’ve flown too close to the sun. 

He smiles then, smug and shining, leaning down to plant what appeared to be an unoffending, fatherly kiss on the crown of your head. “That’s more like it. Not so hard to be a good girl, now is it, darling?” 

The sensual rasp of his whisper calls forth memories of love made sweet and long, making your stomach flip and tighten. Praying for the heat to leave your face, you clench your thighs together to ward them off.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Your head snaps up to see Ari’s freckled face plastered with a sardonic expression. Your confidant since childhood, your cousin is the only person who knows about your relationship—and isn’t afraid to give you shit about it.  

“Of course not,” Boba answers breezily, patting your shoulder, “we were just commenting on how perfect the weather turned out.”

Ari scoffs, dropping down next to you. “Yeah, sure. If anyone else here actually had eyes, they would see right through the two of you.”

You grin and accept the offered lemonade. “What? Can a young lady and a handsome older gentleman not talk at a party?” 

Boba’s hand squeezes your shoulder in a silent warning to behave. Still glowing with his praise of “good girl” echoing in your ears, you opt to stay so.

“Last I checked, they can,” Ari gestures back and forth between you. “It’s just the ‘fuck me’ eyes that make it totally obvious you’re screwing.”

“I myself prefer the term ‘making love’ over ‘screwing,’” Boba chuckles.

Ari immediately makes retching noises, their face screwing up in disgust. “Making love?! What are you, like a thousand years old?” They hold up a hand. “You know what, never mind, I don’t even want to think about that more than I already have to.”

Despite your cousin’s reaction, his words bloom heat in your stomach. As good as Boba is at straight up fucking, he also loves you so tenderly and slowly some nights it nearly brings you to tears. With sweet kisses wrapped in praise and gentle touches laced with assurances that you were his and he was yours, he crafted a devotion more sincere and pure than you thought your heart could hold.

Ari elbows you, pulling you back to reality. “Now unless you got tea to add to this conversation, sir, I’m gonna need you to beat it. Me and your girlfriend have some important information to discuss. Auntie is three margaritas deep and just told me some very interesting things about her divorce.”

Boba’s fingers drift across the nape of your neck in a subtle reminder of delicious possession. He makes a show of sighing in exaggerated defeat and comes around your chair. Sticking out his hand, he nods. “Ari.”

“Fett.” They shake and Boba heads over to where your dad is flipping burgers on the grill. Somehow even his walk made you thrum with electricity.

When he’s out of earshot, Ari whispers behind their drink. “Finally. Now, she said that she was the one who instigated the divorce…”

It’s not until you head inside to pee that you remember your promise to Boba.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Clock’s ticking, princess. Panties. Now.> Received 6 minutes ago

Shit. You groan and throw your head back on your shoulders. Why is there always a line when you want to use the bathroom? Especially when you need to get your panties off before your boyfriend reaches up your dress and rips them off for you?

When the door finally opens, you rush in. Clicking the lock, you immediately yank off your underwear, taking the briefest moment to admire them. Pink, cute, and soaked in the middle, you feel deliciously dirty holding up the scrap of fabric in the mirror to snap a pic.

<All yours 😘> 1 image attached

The urge to run and take another picture in his truck is extremely tempting, but a knock on the door has you rushing to finish up. 

Boba’s waiting for you when you step outside, looking handsome as sin as he leans against the deck railing. As casually as you can with a naked cunt and a pair of panties balled in your fist, you slip next to him and press them into his large hand. Maker, the sight of him stuffing the illicit garment into his pocket should absolutely not be as fucking hot as it is.

Seeing the scrunched look on your face, he chuffs a quiet laugh. “I can smell how wet you are, babygirl. Something’s got you all worked up, huh?” His tone is molasses, thick with self-satisfaction. “Brats do always love it when the consequences of their actions catch up to them.”

In an attempt to diffuse his pride, you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you said I was your good girl.” 

He flashes you that jaw-dropping smile of his. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

Before you can get any more hot and bothered, you see your mother approaching with a gangly young man in tow. You curse under your breath; you’d forgotten about Kevin-from-Jimenez-Lanscaping. 

Boba snorts. “Speaking of consequences…”

Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re going to have to make polite small talk with your mother and a stranger with your panties stuffed in your secret-boyfriend-who-makes-you-scream-with-pleasure’s pocket. 

You’re also aware that it turns you on an embarrassing amount. Fortunately (or not), you don’t have much time to contemplate the extent of that particular depravity before Kevin and your mom stop in front of you. 

“There you are!” she exclaims happily. “Kevin, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you all about.” The young man smiles and shakes your hand politely and your mom turns to the older man. “And this is Boba Fett, our neighbor and family friend.” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “Now he’s very protective of her, so be careful. Even worse than her father.”

Boba bares his teeth in a sharp-toothed smile, gripping the younger man’s offered hand harder than necessary for the brief shake. The act of possessiveness has your blood boiling even hotter as the poor boy’s eyes widen in surprise. After a couple minutes of tedious conversation that’s mainly Boba glaring over your shoulder, Kevin excuses himself, thanking your mother for inviting him and apologizing for having to leave so soon. 

Watching him dart for his car, she levels a scolding tone at your boyfriend. “How is my daughter supposed to find someone when you stare murder at every single person I bring over?”

Unrepentant, he shrugs and smiles. Your shared secret dances on his lips. “I just want what’s best for her. Surely you can’t blame me for that.” Seeing your mother still unconvinced, he throws an arm around her shoulders and plants a kiss on her cheek. 

He sneaks a wink at you and you make a show of rolling your eyes even as your insides warm at his attention. Morally, you’re sure it’s wrong to enjoy this deception so thoroughly, but in this moment you don’t care; it lights some infernal fire inside you that burns hotter than any desire you’ve ever had.

“I hate to say it, but Boba’s right,” you play along. She still looks skeptical and he looks entirely too smug, so you elaborate. “I mean, what good is a guy that’s too chicken to even have a conversation with this grandpa?”

She bursts into a round of laughter that wipes away the previous exasperation from her face. “Oh, be nice to Boba,” she admonishes, lightly smacking your shoulder. “He’s no older than your father.”

A grin splits your face. “Gosh, you’re right, Mom! Boba’s only what, twice my age? I should really have more respect for my elders.” The words barely leave your mouth before Boba turns out his solo cup of ice water out over your head. Shocked with the sudden cold pouring down your face and neck, you instantly resort to tattling and finger pointing.

“No, ma’am, don’t come crying to me!” she manages through a peal of laughter. “You earned that one fair and square!”

Boba is positively dripping with his own self-satisfaction. “Sure did,” he brandishes a double-edged smile, paternally crossing his arms over his chest, “And I hope you learned your lesson, young lady.”

Your skin burns so hot you can feel the rivulets of water trickling down your neck heat up. Memories of your tits pushed up against the chilled hood of Boba’s truck flash across the backs of your eyes—you had complained you were cold after a skinny-dip in the lake and he wasted no time in warming you back up.

“Careful, princess,” he panted damply against your neck. “You scream any louder and you’ll have people come running. What would they think of a pretty young lady like you soaking an old man’s cock?”

It’s a miracle that you don’t immediately buckle when you catch his hand digging into his pocket to fist your panties. Keeping your eyes decidedly off him, you rush through an excuse to go up to your room to change. Before you can scurry off, however, he catches your elbow. 

“Here, take this.” Boba pulls off his overshirt and wraps it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catching a cold, now can we?” Your mom nods approvingly before she’s pulled away by another guest. Once she’s out of earshot, he drops his voice low. “Go inside and meet me in the garage. I’m going around front.”

Even as you repress an excited shiver, your heart warms in your chest at Boba’s caution. He never made you feel bad for wanting to keep things private and always structured your affairs so you were never seen going or leaving together. And although you look forward to the day you’ll be ready to hold his hand and steal kisses in front of the world, sneaking around in the meantime did add an extra layer of excitement to your sex. 

Sandals slapping wet against the tiled floor, you race across the kitchen to yank open the door to the garage. Thick, sun-warmed air hits your face with a pleasant staleness, smelling of cardboard and motor oil. The quietness of the space clashes with the clamor of excitement pumping through your veins. Sweeping your eyes from one side to the other, a frown weighs on your lips when Boba is nowhere to be seen. 

No sooner does the displeasure darken your expression than you’re scooped up into a pair of strong arms and whirled around. 

Familiar lips and a suede voice swiftly gentle your startled yelp. “Quiet now, darling,” Boba purrs, practically preening with the pleasure of your surprise, “you don’t want to get us caught now do you?”

Your gleeful giggles of realization are smothered by his barrage of kisses, each one an intoxicating mix of passion and urgency. Boba hooks your legs around his waist, not caring about the water soaking into him as he walks you deeper into the garage.

The intense press of need pushing against your chest melts under his touch, releasing your lungs and draining to pool in your thrumming core. It’s been so long, too long, without him, your body surviving on the mere scraps memory could provide you—nothing in comparison to the sustenance of the man himself. Having him back in your arms, his marred skin beneath your fingertips, his thick torso filling the empty space between your legs… it unhooks the final thorns of discontent left from his absence. 

A wave of relief washes away the tenseness of separation, leaving you pliable and radiant once more; the release has Boba’s lips parting in a gratified groan at the satisfaction of being your sanctuary. You take the greedy opportunity to lick your way into his mouth to savor the way his taste fills yours. Lost to the sensation of your tongue sliding along his, a hiss escapes your lips when the back of your thighs hit the freezer’s lid. 

The chill dissipates quickly in the glow of Boba’s urgent heat. “Fuck I missed you, babygirl,” he pants against your pulse, “Even if you’ve been a karking terror all afternoon.”

“S’not my fault,” you slur, dragging your teeth across the tan skin of his throat, “missed you too much.” His salt seeps into the warmth of your mouth, spurring memories of late nights pressed together under a quivering lake water moon. Seeking that passionate warmth, your heels dig into Boba’s thighs to press him deeper into your eager desire.

Unyielding and unrushed as ever, he pulls back, refusing to let you usurp his control. Bereft, a whine flies from your throat and you keel towards him in a desperate arch. 

Boba catches your cheek in his palm and sharply angles your face to his. Pure dominance radiates off him in the unwavering set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eye, their darkness glinting like two sable jewels in the dim light. His raw power, sanctified by his restraint and your willing submission, shimmers in the air between your bodies—the ephemeral calm before his storm’s consequences. 

He knows that disquieting stillness of his never failed to draw your desire. Without a word, his free hand disappears into his pocket to free your panties.

“Mmm, is that the problem?” His strong fingers dig into your cheeks and he turns your head towards the dangling bit of bows and lace. You can feel how the visual evidence of your arousal affects him. He presses the damp fabric against his nose, sucking in a ragged breath. “Your needy little cunt making you act out?”

Your answer comes out more as a whoosh of air than a word, your insides twisting with the searing heat in his tone. “Noooo…” 

“So you’re just a naughty brat then?” 

You want to protest that you’re nothing but innocent but your throat is too tight with the thrill of his wrath. He balls the frilly underwear into his fist. “Shame. I was thinking about taking mercy on you for your good behavior while I was gone.” He cuts his eyes back to you, smirking. “Too bad brats don’t get that privilege.”

You jolt, panic locking your ankles at the small of his back in an attempt to keep him close. “No! No! That’s not what I meant!” you cry, your voice taunt with distress.   

A dangerous chuckle sounds in his throat. You’d shown your desperation, giving him the easy advantage. “Better start explaining then, princess. Or else I’m just gonna come all over these pink panties and you’ll get nothing.”

You blink up at him with pitiful eyes and a swollen-lipped pout. “It’s because I missed you,” you simper, tracing a finger down his chest. “Seven days is a long time. Too long.” 

Even through the haze of your shared arousal, Boba resists temptation. “Too long? Babygirl, we talked on the phone every night.”

He lets you press your face into the crook of his shoulder and your fingers begin to loop into the soft cotton of his shirt. “It’s not the same and you know it! There was no falling asleep with you, no lap to curl up in…”

“No thigh to get off on?”

You squeak when he pinches your ass, the subconscious roll of your hips halting.

“As cute and sincere as you may be, my darling girl, you still have a debt to settle for your behavior today.”

That’s fair, reasonable even. You had pushed him further than you yourself would have been able to stand. You slip your fingers under his shirt hem to graze your nails over the dark hair trailing into his jeans. “What if I gave you a little apology?” you offer with a fluttering of lashes. “Show you how sorry I am?” 

Boba’s breath hitches but he turns up his chin like he’s uninclined to accept your offer. “You really think a handy is gonna cut it after everything this afternoon?” 

The fevered dream from his absence flares white-hot in your mind. Grabbing his belt buckle, you haul your hips forward to press your slick folds against his bulge. “Not even if that apology is you fucking me into the mattress in my childhood bedroom?” 

Boba curses, his hips bucking into yours.

“Not even if it’s you ruining me in the room where I learned to touch myself? Where I’d cry out into the pillow thinking about what it would feel like to have a real man fuck me instead of stupid, silly boys? Not even then?”

“Princess-”

“I’ve been fantasizing about it for a while, you know… what it would be like to bury my face in those cute flower sheets while you fuck my tight little cunt till I’m sore. Had to take a cold shower while you were gone just to keep my hands off myself.”

In a burst of strength, he forces you flat back against the freezer. “Enough,” he hisses through locked teeth. “For Maker’s sake, enough.”

Despite his protests, he’s rutting his twitching cock into the slick mess at your apex. You grin into his kiss—you’ve got him right where you want him. 

“Awww, pleeeease?” you whine, sticking your bottom lip out. “Pretty please… Daddy?”

The sound that scrapes up from him is so utterly depraved that for a second, you think he might’ve come in his pants.

“Fuck, you’re… you’re…”

“A filthy little princess for a dirty old man?”

Boba pushes his hand over your mouth. “You… you have ten seconds to get in your room before I’m fucking you where you stand. And I don’t give a karking shit who sees. Do you understand me?”

“So, apology accepted?”

“One.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Two.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going!”

“Three.”

You’re flat out running for the kitchen door, wrenching it open without checking if someone is behind it. Luckily, your path is clear as you fly up the stairs up to your room. The lavender paint and neat rows of school awards are nothing but a pastel blur when you fling yourself onto the twin bed. Quickly positioning yourself, you hike your dress up around your hips so you’re completely on display. 

At this point, you don’t even care about the danger; you drop your hand between your legs and delve two fingers between your wet folds. The friction burns delightfully after days without so much as a finger to your clit. The relief is so sweet you have to bite down on your neckline to halt the sounds of delight from spilling out. Imagining just how much better it’ll be when Boba gets his hands on you has you bucking under your fingers.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you, little brat?”

It’s no use snatching back your hand—he’s seen your transgression and is all too ready to add it to your growing list. Grabbing your wrist, he wrenches you up off the bed and whirls you around so your back digs into the door. 

“Oh, babygirl,” he husks in a low, cruel voice. “You’re so fucked.”

He’s pressed so far into you the damp fabric of your dress burns, absorbing his overwhelming heat. Pure, wanton desire floods your brain, drowning any hope of sanity until all that remains is him.

Boba yanks down the ruffled sleeve covering your shoulder and sinks in his teeth, groaning when you buck against him. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? You like it when I put you in your place, when I treat you rough.” His large hand snakes up your chest to grab your throat.  

“Yes-yes, Daddy!” you gasp, writhing with prickling pleasure when he greedily palms your breast. 

He grunts, his hips thrusting into you. “You think calling me that will get you out of trouble?”

“I mean being in my old room… seems kinda fitting, doesn’t it-oh!”

Boba shoves his hand over your mouth. “Now don’t look at me like that, princess. I’m just helping you make better choices,” he grins, his smile sharp with intent. “That’s what daddies do, right?”

Fuck that should not make your clit throb like it does. Just when your knees start to tremble from the sweet friction he’s smoothing over your nipples, he tears himself away. Your cry of displeasure is choked off by a squeeze of his hand. With big, shining eyes, you blink pitifully up at him in a bid for more.

“Don’t bother with the kitten eyes, darling. It won’t save you… and neither will anything else you say.” He rubs his thumb gently over your pulse point, a jarring contrast to the pressure on your throat. “After your little attitude this afternoon, you’re going to have to earn the right to speak.”

Boba just tuts when you pout, a wicked flush of darkness shadowing his expression. “Brats don’t get what they want, especially not such disrespectful ones.” Licking his lips, his voice sinks even deeper. “Still think I can’t do shit with all these people around?”

When you don’t answer, he releases his grip on your neck to run his fingers up your skull and jerk your head back. Taking his time, he kisses you, devouring you until you’re fighting for air. “Little princess, I can do whatever I want to you no matter who’s around, do you understand that? Do you?” 

Your answer is nothing more than a pitiful waver but he takes it all the same. “Good. Now take the dress off before I tear it off. I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat until I’m satisfied you’ve learned some respect.”

You’re out of the offending garment before he even has time to unfasten his belt. Despite the heat in your veins, goosebumps blossom across your skin, heightened by the moisture from your dress. When Boba sees you rubbing away the chill, he smirks and snaps you to his chest. “Looks like you need some warming up…” 

Sliding his hands over your ass, he hikes you up into his arms with a puff, chuckling at your small sound of surprise. When he lowers you gently onto your bed, you wriggle into the position you know he wants: laid out on your back with your head hanging off the edge, ready for atonement. 

It feels almost like relief. This was the reason you tested Boba’s patience with your antics and attitude; you crave the way he gives you no choice but to comply, the thrill of a fantastical danger shaping you into something vulnerable and eager to please.

The fire in his eyes dampens some as he caresses a hand over your cheek. You lean into his palm, nuzzling into the soft gesture. “Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts gently. When your eyes drift up to his, a smile warms his face. “I know you like it rough and I’m going to give it to you, but I need you to promise to mind your body, okay? Let me feel your three taps to stop.”

As you’d practiced many times, you reach up and slap your palm against his thick thigh. His white smile gets even bigger and he bends to plant a quick kiss on your forehead. You glow with his affection. “Boba?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you grab a towel for me to lay on? I’m going to soak a spot on the sheets if you keep talking like that.” 

A devil’s grin stretches across his bronze features. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he instructs, his voice already husked smoke, “or I will make you only watch while I jack off with those panties.” 

If he’d waited a second before darting to the adjoining bathroom, he would’ve seen the way your slicked entrance clenched at his threat.

For a fleeting moment you consider sneaking a hand to your peaked nipples, but the threat of him making you watch and not touch is far too distressing to test. Before you can get too tempted otherwise, Boba strides back into the bedroom with a towel in hand. Without a word spoken between you, he bends and you hook your arms around his neck so he can lift you and lay the towel down.

Boba hums in appreciation when you stretch back out before him, biting back your longing under his gaze. He lets his belt loose and his pants slide down his thighs, finally revealing the gorgeous image of his thick cock. Flushed rosy with want and beautifully slicked with desire, it bobs against his belly full and ready for your touch. 

He steps back so you’re forced to crane your neck to see him. The baneful fire has returned to his dark eyes. He pumps his length once and your mouth waters in anticipation. “Hope you don’t think I’m going easy on you just because you finally decided to behave.”

You shake your head. 

“No talking and no hands, understood?” 

Now you shake your up and down. You know far better of him than to disobey.

“Good. Now we don’t have much time before someone comes looking for you, little princess, so open up that mouth and make Daddy proud.”

Thank the Maker for that towel.

Tilting your head back to make your throat one smooth channel, you stick out your tongue wide and ready. Just seeing the way his expression darkens with desire at your obedience has fresh slick wetting your thighs. Hell, your obedience turns you on. Not just any man could make you want to give yourself over to him and you’re sure there are next to none who could possibly deserve it. 

Boba steps forward, cupping your cheek in his rough palm and dragging the slippery head of his length over your lips, coating them in his arousal. You stay still, enjoying his taste and gentle attention; he would tell you when he wanted more.

When he rocks forward to let your tongue slide down the vein that runs the underside of his cock, you claw your fingers into the floral sheets beneath you. Your heart pounds against your ribs and your lungs bellow more air into your chest. He’s so close yet so far from where you want him. Spit begins to dribble from the corners of your mouth and your jaw twinges from its wide angle, heightening your need for him even more.

Boba continues his leisurely pace across your tongue, rumbling a few low, pleasured sounds. He notices your frustration—he always notices everything—and chooses to ignore it. It’s a lenient punishment in light of your behavior but it doesn’t make the waiting any easier or your cunt any less desperate.

The whine that escapes from you when he lets his head graze your front teeth is so small it’s almost silent, but he hears it all the same. “Mmm, is there a problem, darling? Something the matter?” The slow drag of him doesn’t stop. 

You flick your tongue over his frenulum in a wordless response. Although you can’t see him, you know his pretty brown eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

“Aaah hah hah,” he chuckles through a groan, “is this not enough for my princess? Is getting her tongue used while she’s naked on her pretty pink bed not enough for her?”

Again, since he hasn’t given you permission to speak yet, you stretch your head up to capture the head of his cock between your coated lips, lightly suckling his sensitive tip. When he doesn’t stop you, you let your tongue snake up to lick the pearled drop from his slit. 

A faint tremor runs through him, making his length thrum in your mouth. Boba curses and stoops to lay a hand on your throat. No pressure or grip to it, just his hand resting over the exposed column of your neck. 

“Swallow.”

His simple command races through you like a spark up a gunpowder trail, igniting the tinder of aching pleasure between your thighs. Reflexively your body snaps to follow his order, your jaw closing and your muscles pushing him deeper into the wet heat of your mouth. 

“Fffff- that’s it, babygirl. Juuuust like that… let me feel how good you take me.” 

The jagged sound of his enjoyment shoots bright seams of glittering ecstasy into your veins. Conscious of the lack of permission to touch him, you dig your heels into the mattress to push further up his shaft, sucking in a final deep breath before letting his girth slide down your waiting throat. 

The next seconds dissolve into a filmy timelessness where every single one of your senses are his—your every sensation and fiber belonging to Boba. Your breath, your sense of smell and taste, sense of direction, everything is all in his control, all his to direct and decide. Even as the need for air burns through your ribs, you feel impossibly free, weightless and perfect within his care.

Retreating into that protected soft space of submission, your mind goes blissfully blank, your sole happiness being Boba’s grunts of pleasure as he pumps his cock down your throat. Sweat slicks your skin and hungry breath claws at your lungs but they’re none of your concern, all you have to worry about is keeping your jaw open. Though it had taken some time to learn to get there, now you rejoice in finding this quiet place within his storm, relishing the way you fall out of time and into his world. Even with the strain and weight of him pressing down onto you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

After some wonderful, unknown period of time, air hisses through Boba’s teeth as he retracts from your warmth. Still blinded by submission, you gasp in big bubbles of air, blinking against the tears of exertion pricking your eyes.

You feel the muted thump of him dropping to his knees near your head. His thumbs are brushing away the salty trails as he cradles your head like a fragile flower against the wind, a smile blooming radiant on your damp face.  “Baby… my darling girl,” he pants through seeded kisses, “you did so good for me, took it all… can you believe it? Almost couldn’t stop myself from coming down that perfect throat.”

You’re still hazy, drifting through the fog of your accomplishment, but you manage to pull apart your wet lashes to see his beaming smile. Its luminance turns up your own lips. “I… I did?”

Before now, you’d never managed to get the last thick inch of his cock down your throat—though not for the lack of trying. As oxygen flushes through your system, your head clears. “See,” you croak, buoyed by your success, “doing it in my old bedroom was a good idea.” 

Genuine mirth crinkle up his eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet, princess.” Boba turns and scoops you into arms, pressing you close to take in your scent. “I still gotta make you scream into the sheets, remember?” he murmurs against your temple.

You happily slide against him, relishing the way he fits perfectly against you. “Pretty sure I said ‘screamed into my pillow.’”

He snorts, caressing his hand along your jaw. “How about I make you do both?”

Taking your wild giggle as confirmation, he flips you onto your back to hover over you. You bite your bottom lip against your laughter as he trails tickling kisses down your neck and over your sternum, your breath hitching when he latches onto a pert nipple.

“Tell me…” he rasps through his mouth’s divine suction, “tell me how you would touch yourself.”

The great, crested wave of fire that crashes through ignites your limbs, making you jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. You never felt ashamed with Boba, he has always been your safety, your refuge; he’d wiped more tears than you’d let anyone else ever see and you’d twisted fantasies into his ear that would make the devil blush. But telling him how you rutted into your hand, sweating and barely keeping in your breathy sounds as you tried desperately to understand why boys your age never turned you on suddenly felt absurdly embarrassing.

He must have felt you stiffen under him because he prompts you again. 

“I, um… I mean…” Why was this so embarrassing? It’s not like he didn’t know you were into the more seasoned male age range. Sucking in a steadying breath, you realize he’s stopped his ministrations to observe you with a keen eye.

It only makes your unforeseen shame bruise darker. You force a chuckle from your gut. “Sheesh, you know how to get a girl to blush, don’t you?” Your words are too high and paper thin—your façade not remotely convincing, not even to yourself.

Boba’s eyes flick over your strained expression, his lips pressing into a thin line before he bows his head to place a small kiss on your stomach. “We can talk about this now, or we can talk about it later,” is all he says. It’s all he has to.

You blow out a weighted breath. His way of making you confront life while still giving you a degree of choice could be as infuriating as it was liberating. If you talk about it now you likely won’t have time for the down and dirty you’ve been craving all week (and, at this point, might shrivel up and die without), but the thought of soldiering on in this cold shadow of shame is utterly unappealing. 

Maker, you’re a buzzkill. 

Boba slaps a smack against your hip and you yip at the sharp sensation. “No apologizing,” he warns. “Just answer the question, princess. Don’t worry about anything else.” His palm opens to rub away the lingering sting.

Feeling your anxiety swarm like wasps, you try to sink back into your warm mental refuge where things were easier. Try as you might, however, your brain refuses to release itself from its nervous confines to slip into that softer shape.

It had been so terribly confusing back then. Watching your friends swoon over boys in your grade or just above, you tried to see what they saw in them: the supposedly hot guys on the basketball team with their burgeoning height or the apparently dreamy, mysterious poet laureate of your high school. You never understood what they saw in these lanky, acne covered boys or why they would cry so profusely over them. A real partner wouldn’t make you cry, you’d thought, he would take care of you, show you the love you were told you deserve.

But oh how you had wanted to understand, to have a believable answer when the subject of crushes came up at the lunch table or someone’s sleepover. Everyone else did. 

You only made the mistake of saying the school’s head coach was hot once—the grossed out looks and “old enough to be our dad” comments made sure of that. Eventually you settled on the safe choice of the football team captain for your obligatory answer whenever the subject came up. Even though it wasn’t true, the pressure was off then.

When you went to college, things didn’t change, no matter how much you hoped they would. You thought maybe it was just the boys at your school you weren’t attracted to, that maybe you were normal after all. 

Tears lodge in your throat at the memory of the guys you’d fucked trying to fix what was surely broken inside you, the nights you spent wishing it wasn’t the kind eyes and visible signs of life experience that drew you to the men you desired. Trying to pursue the older guys at bars and social events never ended well for you either; their kindness always dried up when you didn’t want to go back to their place immediately, followed by cutting comments about “daddy issues” and all the mean things that came with them.

Finding Boba, finding acceptance had been a taste of heaven. A golden slice of peace, the vindication that you weren’t some freak or wrong to want a partner who cherished and cared for you. Your stomach drops at the thought of that pure, devoted love. He gave you all of that, asking for nothing in return but your happiness, and you can’t even bring yourself to claim your relationship in public.

Shame curls in on you like leaden weights. He deserves so much better than you. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell the world they love him and proudly walks at his side—not some scared girl who can’t even bring herself to face her own parents. The wound you thought had long healed rips open inside you, spilling its tainted blood into your heart and a scalding brine down your cheeks. 

Before the first sob can sound from your chest, you’re pressed tightly into Boba’s front, held fast by thick, warm arms that stall your rising grief. A watery stream of words tumble out of you all at once. “Back then, it was-I thought-and I couldn’t, I mean I tried-”

“Shhh, baby, just breathe. It’s okay, everything’s alright… yeah, just like that, princess, that’s my good girl.”

His gentle touch and storm soothed voice has your sobs ebbing under his care. “I-is there something wrong with me?” you whisper in a fragile voice. 

Boba presses his mouth to your temple, pulling you somehow even tighter into his warmth. “Babygirl, why on earth would you think there’s something wrong with you?”

Because I’ve only ever wanted an older man who babies me even though I’m a grownass woman. 

Because I think you fucking me in my childhood bedroom while I call you Daddy is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. 

Because I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you but I’m still too scared to tell people about us.

You’re vaguely aware of being pulled under covers and tucked in tight to his side. Despite the furnace warmth of him and the blanket, you can’t seem to stop shivering against some inner cold. Piece by patient piece, Boba pulls out your discontent, wiping away new tears and kissing the old ones from your lashes. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the darkening sky outside your window but he assures you Ari’s got your absence covered.

Tracing his roughened fingertips up and down your spine, he tilts up your chin to kiss your forehead. “Darling girl, why did you never say anything? That’s all too heavy to have to deal with by yourself. Especially when I’m here to help.”

Why did you? You’d shared so much of your other burdens—your disillusion after losing your dream job, your struggle coping with your life not following your set mental timeline—why had you kept all this to yourself?

“I don’t know…” you whisper, letting your pointer finger trace along the collarbone of his newly revealed chest. “I guess I felt like… like even though what I like isn’t normal, that being with you would make those bad feelings go away… and you make me so happy I thought maybe they would disappear if I never looked for them.” Hearing these half-baked assumptions out loud makes you hide your face in his shoulder. You feel like an idiot. No, worse. An idiot who’s wasted all her sneak-away time crying instead of getting railed by her boyfriend.

Boba makes a sympathetic sound, squeezing you closer to him. “I want you to listen to me, princess. Really listen. Number one, no keeping things from me that hurt you or make you upset. If you need to cry the whole thing out or scream about it until you’re hoarse, that’s fine as long as you tell me. Understood?”

You make a noise of agreement and borrow deeper into his hold. He allows you his comfort for a few more moments before gently unfurling you to run his thumb across your cheek.

“Number two. There’s no such thing as normal. Not a fucking thing. You like what you like just like everyone else likes what they like. Being attracted to handsome men like myself is not anything different than having a preference for blondes or brunettes, yeah?” He kisses you on the tip of your nose and you can’t help but smile up at him. “Besides, you wouldn’t find anything wrong with me being attracted to special princesses who have dirty little mouths and dirtier minds, would you?” 

Heat rises to your cheeks. “As long as I’m the special princess,” you mumble into his palm, suddenly self-conscious under his attention even as you revel in it. Maker, how do you still want him to pound you into the mattress after an emotional breakdown? All his patient love seems to only make you hornier now that your tears have been shed and your fears have been voiced.

“Always.” Boba chuckles and chucks up your chin for a kiss. When you slip your tongue into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, he pulls back just far enough to murmur, “Still needy, darling?”

How could you not be? Your need for him feels different now, though. Not so much more or less intense but an entirely different kind altogether, like a fire that burns just as hot but with a different fuel than its predecessor. Treading carefully around this new flame, you hold a tentative hand out to test its heat. “We don’t… if the mood isn’t right, we don’t have to… and we’ve been gone for too long already-”

Boba drags his hot mouth over your jaw, positioning you beneath him. “Then a couple more minutes isn’t going to change that, now is it, babygirl?”

You frown even as your hips seek his. “But the whole ‘sexy fantasy’ thing is kinda ruined.”

Taking your hand in his large one, he draws it down his chest and over his stomach until you feel the hardness of his arousal filling your palm. “Does it feel ruined to you?”

Rock hard and fire hot, he leaks into your fingers. Your stomach clenches. Not too distant memories burn bright and vivid behind your eyes: recollections of impossible fullness, banished thoughts, and the generous stretch to accommodate him. 

“Tell me,” he commands, knowing his firm tone always had you melting like silvery mercury in his palm. “Does it feel like I don’t want to be buried in your sweet cunt? Ruining your ‘innocence’ all over again like you want me to so badly?”

His roughness, the obvious tint of desire in licking up his neck and cheeks all have their intended effect: you succumbing to your desires within the paradise of his control. “N-no, it feels like-fuck-it feels like I want you inside me,” you pant, desperate and breathy. You arch up in offering and he bows his head to enjoy the fruits of your desire.

Sliding a hand down your waist, his fingers trail torturously close to your wet heat only to skim over it with the barest of touch. “How did you imagine it back then?” The crackling weight in his voice sinks through your skin to light in your core. “Soft and sweet? Gentle nothings whispered in your ear as you came apart?” 

Without warning, he slaps at the wet flesh between your thighs and covers it with his broad hand, claiming it for himself. Perfect nettles of pain flash across your mind and you jerk against his hold. “Or did you want something a little rougher? Want a man who knew how to treat this pussy like it was all his?”

You can’t help it now. The fire he coached is burning you from the inside out, blossoming from you with slips of petaled flame. “A-all yours,” you manage thickly, twisting against him for more. “Wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be fucked without having to think…”

“Yeah, I know, baby, they didn’t know how to touch you, did they?” Two of his thick fingers push past your lower lips to slide through the slick seam there. Trailing over your slit for a languorous second, the pad of his middle finger circles your swollen hood. “They didn’t know how to rub that cute little clit so you screamed, huh?”

“Not at all,” you sob, your voice quivering as you shake from the electric sensation of his fingers. “Never knew, never knew-”

Boba smothers the rest of your pathetic sounds in a kiss that pushes deep into your pillows. “Awww, my poor princess,” he croons. “So achy and needy with no one to help. No wonder you were all over me that first time, whining and riding my dick like you would die without it.”

Never mind that he had been equally out of his mind, pounding into you that night like a man possessed with adoration. 

He notches a finger at your fluttering opening, ringing it around your flushed entrance just to see you squirm to get him deeper. “Remember how you begged me to fuck you, princess? How you didn’t even want to wait for me to stretch out your tight cunt?” Sinking in an effortless finger, he dips to lap up the beads of sweat from the hollow of your throat.

By the time he’s pressing in the blunt head of his cock, you’re face down and ass up, shimmying your hips back onto his length through a babble of pleas. “Please, Boba, please I want it deep, so fuckin’ deep I cry.”

Huffing out a breath that curls over the dampness of your spine, Boba grips the back of your neck to snap that first delicious thrust into you. Your broken sob is muffled by the rucked bedding, matching the slap of skin in a salacious accompaniment. Never one to do things in half measures, he digs a hand into your hip, anchoring your body to drive into you harder. He hits that divine spot that you didn’t even know existed before him.

The air whooshes from both your lungs in a blurred haze of ecstasy. “Shit, baby,” Boba squeezes your nape, “I’ll always give it to you… always, darling girl. Anything you want, I’m always yours, forever.”

You know it with every breath in your body and hair on your head—Boba loves you with every fiber of his being and he never hid that fact from you. From the way he looks after your safety to the care he takes just to see you flash a simple smile, you never had to wonder if he loved you the way you love him, not even for a second. 

The realization happens suddenly then, tipping your axes so you could center on the one truth that had orbited just out of your consciousness: Boba is worth the risk. He always has been. No matter what you might lose or gain by sharing your relationship, he would always be worth the risk.

You swirl with dazzling vibrancy, this epiphany developing in full splendor within you. “Yes-yes-yes!” you repeat mindlessly, flinging an arm back to search for his tethering touch. His hand disappears from your hip to intertwine with yours. Face crushed into the rose covered sheets of your old bed, breath tearing into your lungs as soon as it’s knocked out again, you smile. It had all led to this: all those years wondering if you were somehow broken, all those loves lost trying to fix what didn’t need repair, that one New Year’s night when you stopped denying what you truly wanted—all of it, everything, had been worth the risk.

Boba pulls on your hand, forcing you to arc farther back so that last sweet, solid inch of him is finally able to press into you. “Ffffffff-that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “You’re better than heaven, babygirl, you know that? Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”

You want to tell him the same but your head is filled with hot, sparkling clouds of stardust and your throat is tight with cresting pleasure. “Yes, Daddy, yes!”

“Shit, you calling me… say it again. Say it again and don’t fucking stop.”

You’re chanting now, watching how the room around you shrinks to a pinpoint as you draw higher and higher with him. The prick of light and the chorus of your glass-thin cries shake with impending explosion when he drags his blunt nails down your back, swelling over your hip to find your throbbing center. “Is it as good as you imagined?” he husks, his own voice leaden with delicious strain. “Getting fucked into the mattress you dreamed on?”  

Each snap of his hips sends your clit skating over his calloused fingertips. “Better, so much better!” Crushing your eyes closed, you surrender to the scorching wave waiting to take you. “Please, Daddy! Please fill me up so everyone knows I’m yours!”

Boba jerks forward, breaking the pattern of his thrusts to fold over your back. His sweat dampened skin melds to yours and fuses you into one splendid being. His hand travels from your shoulder to clasp around your throat. “You really want that, darling girl? You really want everyone to know you belong to me?”

Your answer doesn’t waver, solidified by your new-found conviction. “As long as they know you’re mine, too.” 

Muscles rippling to lock at your affirmation, Boba’s head drops to your shoulder. The groan that heaves from his chest rattles through your bones like a welcome spirit charged with animating the last gasps of your union. “C-come for me then,” he chuffs in your ear with his last dregs of restraint. “Come for me so they know what you fucking do to me.”

Would he ever truly know how easy, how intrinsic to your being coming apart for him is? How your world had only ever been ordered by his particular equation, even before your eyes first met? Unraveling to be respun with his thread is your very nature, and you would always yearn to be in his weave, stitched and re-stitched by his expert hand. His fingers press tight against the glowing center of pleasure at your core and you burst into a glorious, unbound tapestry of light. Undulant patterns of pleasure flow through your every inch, anointing your entire body in golden thread from the crown of your head down to each individual toe.

Feeling the hot claim he spills inside you is the final beautiful detail in your joint creation. These final fleeting moments where it feels like your very souls mesh together are always your favorite; Boba’s guard comes down and you rise to catch him, your usual roles reversing as he burrows into your warmth. “Always, baby. Always yours,” he promises, his voice thick and sweet as honey.

Echoing his sentiment in utter bliss, you tighten your grip on his hand, joy taking flight when he does the same. Content and at peace, the pair of you roll so you’re pressed flush together, still joined in the middle when your limbs re-tangle. Boba pushes your hair back from where it had stuck your forehead and plants a kiss in your hair. 

You’re happy to smooth your palms over the scarred bronze of his chest to rest them lazily around his neck, his heartbeat jumping under your touch. How could you not realize this, that he, is worth more to you than any fallout from revealing your relationship? Was this not what you shed all those tears for, what you wished for every single time you tried to fit into another man’s mold? 

A resplendent joy feathers out in your chest, floating down your arms, then your legs with soft announcement. “Boba?”

His finger traces up your spine. “Yes, my princess?” His voice is dense as goose down and packed with comfort. 

You swirl your own shape into his skin. “I meant it, you know. I want… I want everyone to know we’re together. I don’t want it to be a secret anymore.”

He goes silent, his only sound the movement of air in and out of his lungs. Even as you know he always takes time to consider his next move, your pulse still ticks up with a spate of nerves. The lines on your spine continue and you do your best to temper your unease as the long moments inch by. 

Eventually, a rumble reverberates in his chest. Your ears prick up.

“You don’t have to do that, babygirl, not before you’re ready. Just because it slipped out in the heat of the moment doesn’t mean it has to be set in stone.” Boba shifts to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly closer. “I know there are more risks for you than me in our relationship.”

You hate the far off note of despair in his voice. You hate the way he sounds like he’s resigned himself to a truth that isn’t at all what it has to be. “No,” you sit up on your elbow to cup his cheek, “there’s not. Not in any way that matters to me. You’re-”

“Princess, it’s okay, I-”

You silence him with a kiss, suddenly feeling like you have to get the next words out of your body before they explode. “You’re worth the risk, Boba. You always will be. Every single day since I met you, you have done nothing but prove that to me.” Your pace picks up as your truth spreads its wings. “I was afraid before, not of being with you but of what others would think about my preferences. I didn’t want them to judge me and think I was only with you because I have “daddy issues” or whatever, not because I love you more than I thought people could. And I know my parents will be shocked but all they want is what’s best for me, and you’re what’s best for me. I know this now—and I’m not ashamed of it.”

As quickly as you started, you run out of steam. No longer inflated with the sense of frantic urgency you had before, you sag back down onto his chest. A quiet second flicks by, then Boba’s grabbing you, hauling you up into his arms to kiss you like a man desperate to live. He says nothing, his lips working against yours in fervent passion but you can feel the sentiment he doesn’t speak. Each pass of his tongue and nip of his teeth communicate more than any words could: his joy in your self-realization, the excitement of proclaiming your love to the world at long last. Your only wish is that you could have given him this sooner.

When he finally lets you break for air, his handsome face is lit up with a smile more radiant than any sun. Whispering your name with a reverence of only the truly devoted, he brushes his nose over yours. “Babygirl, I… I’m so proud of you. You never cease to amaze me.”  He sweeps his lips over yours again. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

Besides his love, Boba’s greatest gift is his forthrightness. You never have to guess with him and now, no one else will have to either. They’ll know where his loyalties lay. 

“That’s a good thing,” you tease into a quick kiss. “Because all my aunties, and uncle Stephen, are going to be very jealous that you’re off the market.”

Boba chuckles in that bone-deep way that always makes you warm all over. “I didn’t realize I was in such high demand.”

You push yourself up on his chest. “Oh, don’t lie to me, Boba Fett. I’ve seen the way you flirt and wink at them. They eat it up and you know it!” 

Sitting up with you, he grins. “Just being polite, princess. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Maker, how could you ever be jealous of anyone after the sex you’d just had?

“Oh, not at all. Because at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me.” You smirk up at him. “Speaking of which, we better get back out there before those same aunties start tearing the house up looking for you.”

“Only if you promise not to clean up and put these panties back on for me, darling girl,” he counters with a devilish smirk of his own.

Giggling, you bite your lip. “Anything for you, Daddy.”

He’s worth the risk.  

[getawayfox]

Happy birthday, darling @wolfpants! I’m bringing you a banner with Draco on it since you share a birthday with him, what a fun coincidence! When deciding how to celebrate you and your writing, I knew I wanted to do an author’s reclist but wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it because every single fic in your catalogue is worth a rec of its own. So I took inspiration from an ask game - a list of categories I could fill with my rambling. I hope you have a wonderful birthday full of nice things! ILY! 🤍

🤍 A fic I want to read again for the first time: Under Giant Mountains (Drarry, E, 34k)

I thought about it for a long time because I would give anything to experience all of them for the first time again but eventually, I landed on Under Giant Mountains. It feels a bit sacred to me and I think it’s because I relate to this Harry a lot; because it’s a gentle story about healing; because it made me cry but in that really good, cathartic way. I think it will do the same regardless of how many times I read it.

🤍 A fic I reread the most times: Pages of You (Drarry, E, 102k)

According to AO3 the fic I have visited the most is Pages of You, which is no surprise. Do I share how many times I clicked on that fic? Is it embarrassing? Probably. Oh well, here it is:

Look, it’s my comfort fic, okay? What can I say - an 80s coming-of-age story? Sign me the hell up. In all honesty, I don’t really have words to describe how this fic makes me feel - it’s like a safety net for my inner child maybe, or something similarly, horribly cheesy. It’s a book I want to own, have on my bookshelf, and return to it over and over again. Maybe one day it will be.

🤍 A fic that made me (re)consider a ship: Spellbound (Draco/Albus, E, 2k)

So here is the thing - I’m pretty faithful to my favourite ships and don’t often read outside of them, except when it’s a rarepair that catches my eye and then I’m happy to be persuaded. And Wolf is brilliant at that, honestly, they could talk me into anything. And so even when it comes to a ship I didn’t know I needed, like Draco/Albus for instance, I just know that in their hands, it’s gonna be layered and thought-provoking and just so, so delicious. Here is the proof: Spellbound, a Dead Dove fic that is just the perfect flavour of dirtyhotwrong. Yum.

🤍 A favourite rarepair fic: Galvanize (Scorpius/Ron, M, 1k)

Speaking of rarepairs. Wolf has a whole collection of kinkuary fics, which is a rarepair heaven, go forth and pick your poison. I’m gonna go with Galvanize, in support of Hot Ron Agenda ™. It’s an M-rated Scorpius/Ron fic and the dynamic here is unmatched - so innocent and yet. Gah!

🤍 A line from a fic that’s haunted me: Waiting for the Moon to Rise (Drarry with a hint of Bill, E, 9k)

This is hard because I can think of many (see QQR) but if I had to choose just one, it would have to be this masterpiece:

—his voice had been thick, Draco remembers that, because he’d been eating an apple stolen from the kitchens on their way outside. He kept trying to get Draco to eat it too, playfully pressing the bitten edges to his mouth, damp like a kiss, until Draco had pushed him off him with a laugh— “stop that, Potter, or I’ll shove it someplace where it’ll hurt ”—and all the while, his lips had tingled with sweetness, a phantom caress he would take to his bed later that night and think about with his hands while the rest of the Eighth Year boys would sleep and snore, none the wiser—

Which is of course from Waiting for the Moon to Rise, featuring an intimate friendship, lots of UST and Bill the matchmaker 😏

🤍 A fic that ripped my heart out (but it hurt so good): The Hollow (Remus/Draco, E, 12.5k)

Oh boy. We’ve all read The Hollow, right? Right. It’s one of those fics I think about so often it can’t be healthy and yet I can’t go anywhere near it again because I don’t think I would survive a second read. It’s so, so, so good. It’s so painful. It’s everything I want from the pairing. I never want to see it again. It carved itself into my heart and will stay there forever.

🤍 A fic that made me laugh: Romp and Circumstance (Drarry, E, 33k)

So. Many. Wolf’s banter in fics is unmatched but for the sake of this game I have to say one, so I’ll go with Romp and Circumstance - and as much as this fic is hilarious, it’s also so full of love and longing and romance. It’s so vibrant! A perfectly executed AU with characterizations that are just chef’s kiss!

🤍 A song I now associate with a fic: Everybody Hates a Tourist (Drarry, E, 52k)

I will always associate Common People by Pulp with Everybody Hates a Tourist. I remember sitting in a beach cafe last year and the song started playing and immediately transferred me into the holiday vibes of the fic. I’m obsessed with both Harry and Draco in this story: with who they are, separately, and eventually together. Their characters are written so brilliantly here; they’re both given space to grow into themselves, into what they want out of life and their getting together feels like the most natural thing in the world.

🤍 A fic that’s between me and my AO3 history: Seat You Higher than the Stars (Ron/Harry, E, 1,8k)

Ha! I have no secrets or shame. Nothing is just between me and AO3, I’m an open book and will shout about it, and especially about this fic I thought was fitting (pun intended) for this category - just look at the tags: emotional vulnerability and fisting (elmo fire emoji). This is Seat you Higher than the Stars, a Ronarry fic that has got to be one of my favourite things ever written. It’s so tender and beautiful! 

🤍 A fic that feels like a warm blanket: Thickets (Drarry, E, 17k)

That is *exactly* how reading Thickets feels. Oh, this fic. So gentle and mature, full of soft, quiet pining and second chances. It’s so atmospheric and nostalgic. Layered with complicated grief and vowed with humor and warmth, this fic is simply stunning. It’s a getting back together story that feels like a deep exhale. It’s melancholic and hopeful and it has one of my favourite characters of all time - a portrait of Young Draco to perfectly illustrate just how far current Draco has come.

🤍 A fic I want to be made into a film: Led by Light of a Star Sweetly Gleaming (Sirius/Remus, E, 53k)

My Wolfstar-loving heart could not forget this story - in a way a prequel to Pages of You but also a standalone fic set in the '60s. Wolf’s worldbuilding and attention to detail really shine here - it would make such a stunning film! But it’s not just that, it’s the characters, too, where the magic lies: completely in awe of each other and unbearably lovely. “You’ve no idea how much I want to worship you.” will be forever my favourite thing Sirius has ever said.

[deadboydetectives-ao3feed]

Welcome to the Dead Boy Detectives AO3Feed

**This post will be continuously updated. If you see it as a reblog, please check the blog for the most up-to-date version**

This blog automatically posts every* fic in the "Dead Boy Detectives (TV)" tag on ao3 using an RSS feed and a workflow automator (make.com). Posts are queued, so fics may take a while to appear on the blog after being posted to ao3. Only newly published fics will be posted, not updates. Note: due to the way I need to add content labels, fics may not necessarily go live to the blog in the same order they were posted to ao3.

I (the mod) manually add tumblr tags for ship, characters, rating, and archive warnings. Any other tags and warnings will be listed in the "additional tags" section in the body of the post, which is automatically copied from the author's tags on ao3. Please read the tags and use your personal discretion about content you want to read.

All of my fic posts are tagged with #deadboydetectivesao3feed -- good to follow if you want to keep up with fic posts, or to block if you don't want to see me in the main tags 👍 Full tag directory, including content warnings, is under the cut!

If I've mis-tagged something or the blog seems to otherwise not be working correctly, please feel free to send an ask or DM! Asks and DMs not related to this blog and/or its function as an ao3feed will not be responded to.

Hope you enjoy the blog! ✨

*Fics that are locked to ao3 users as well as fics posted to ao3 before the feed was set up (approximately 11 AM Eastern Time on February 5th, 2025) can't be picked up by the bot. Sometimes the bot messes up, too! I try and catch what falls through the cracks, but can't alway get everything. If one or more of these categories applies to your fic and you would still like it to be posted to the feed, you can contact me via ask or DM and I will post it manually.

Tag Directory (under the cut)

Content Warnings and Ratings

tumblr's native content labels will be applied to posts for fics rated "Mature" or "Explicit" on ao3. In addition, I tag for archive warnings:

#AW: No Archive Warnings Apply #AW: Creator Chose Not To Warn #AW: Graphic Depictions of Violence #AW: Rape/Non-Con #AW: Underage Sex #AW: Major Character Death

as well as ratings (using ao3's rating system):

#rating: G #rating: T #rating: M #rating: E #not rated

Other Categories

*These categories will be continuously updated as more fics are posted

Ships:

#catcrow #catwin #cricketcrow #cricketcat / #catland #cryland #demonland #edwin payne x simon mould / #blue cap / #hellbound #kingfinch / #pussymagic #montwin #nightfish #palasaki #payneland #shelby kahn x maren #the cat king x crystal palace #the cat king x desire of the endless

also: #gen fic

Poly Ships:

#crylandpayne #ghostcat #ghostcrow

x Reader Fic:

#tragic mick x reader

and: #reader-insert

Major Characters:

#charles rowland #crystal palace / #crystal palace surname von hoverkraft #david the demon #edwin payne #esther finch #jenny green #monty finch #night nurse #niko sasaki #the cat king

Side Characters:

#baby doll spider #brad (dead boy detectives) #charles rowland's father | Paul Rowland #charles rowland's mother | Mary Rowland #crystal palace's mother | Maddy Surname #crystal palace's father | Seth Von Hoverkraft #ghost postman #honda the cat #hunter (dead boy detectives) #iris (dead boy detectvies) #kashi (dead boy detectives) #litty and kingham #maren (dead boy detectives) #meatball the cat #maxine (dead boy detectives) #sa'al #shelby kahn #simon mould #tragic mick

Characters from the wider DBD universe:

#dead patrol boys (Doom Patrol versions of Charles and Edwin) #death of the endless #delirium of the endless #dream of the endless / #morpheus #desire of the endless #despair of the endless #destiny of the endless #edwin payne's father #edwin payne's grandparents #edwin payne's mother #edwin payne's sibling(s) #hob gadling #johanna constantine #lucifer morningstar #niko sasaki's father #niko sasaki's mother

and: #crossover fic

Languages (as this blog and most of the fics being posted are mainly in english, english-language fics will not be specifically tagged):

#language: french #language: mandarin chinese #language: spanish #language: ukranian

Other Fanwork Categories:

#fanart #fanvid #podfic

Housekeeping

non-fic posts will be tagged with #mod post, stuff about the rules/running of the blog with #housekeeping, and asks with #asks. Fics I post manually are tagged #manual post.