#they are like 3 5 6 and 12. how hard is it to stop a fucking 5 year old.

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 15

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || NSFW | Oral Sex, P in V Sex | WC: 4.2k

beta readers: @silcoitus @medic-simp <333

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

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Silco seems so far away, even as he walks only a few paces ahead of you. More than anything, you want to take his hand, to hold onto him and tell him how important he is to you.

But he walks stiffly, eerily quiet as he leads you out of the alleyway. You pull your bag higher up your shoulder, clutching the strap with one hand. When you automatically reach out for him with your other, you stop yourself and shove your hand in your pocket, your fingers twitching in protest.

He stops so abruptly that you crash into his back, almost stumbling past him. His extended arm bars the exit onto the main street. Before you can ask him what’s going on, a disc runner whizzes by, its driver cackling gleefully as they’re chased by a trio of heavily armored Enforcers. Laughter echoes in the Lanes, tinkling like broken glass as the sudden noise fades away into the distance.

Silco looks both ways surreptitiously before wordlessly offering you his hand. You take it gratefully, squeezing it hard so he can hopefully feel your affection for him.

The hustle and bustle of the Lanes does little to combat the tension between you during the walk to The Last Drop. It ripples underneath the surface like a sea monster circling its prey, a ship on the open ocean able to detect the leviathan but not combat it. The pub’s new sign buzzes cheerfully above you as Silco unlocks the front door. He holds it open for you, and you thank him before heading inside.

“What time is it?” you ask, fumbling with your bag to look for your watch. You curse yourself for not wearing it, but you had fallen out of the habit a long time ago. It was too tempting a target for pickpockets, and you always took off your accessories whenever you were painting anyways.

“The day is still young,” Silco says. He shuts and locks the door behind him. The lock turns with a heavy clunk, echoing loudly in the empty pub. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

You shake your head. “I just don’t know how long this is going to take.”

He gazes at you, brows furrowed with worry. His eyes tick over your face before he turns away, a low sigh of resignation escaping him like the last gasp of breath from a deflating balloon. He jerks his head towards the doorway behind the counter, a silent request for you to follow him.

Silco leads you down the hallway past the kitchen, further into the depths of the pub than you’ve ever been before. Under normal circumstances, you’d be excited about finally seeing more of his home, but it’s tempered by a nervous anticipation.

It makes you hope that Silco will agree with what you have to say. If he does, then you’ll have to ask for a proper tour later.

He stops in front of a door and wordlessly pushes it open, waiting for you to enter first. You step into a dark room, and you feel more than see Silco stride past you. Something clicks mechanically, then a lantern flickers on, buzzing as it illuminates the room with a pale yellow glow.

A large blanket with colorfully mismatched patchwork is draped over a long, narrow bed tucked into the corner. The dresser is wooden and sturdy, just like the rest of the furniture in the pub. Sheathed knives, a gas mask, and a square ashtray are lined up neatly on top of the dresser in tidy rows, straight as a military formation. The only other piece of furniture is a tall bookshelf, its shelves crowded with notebooks, journals, papers, and small boxes of writing utensils. A large map spans the width of one wall across from the bed, depicting a spread of underground tunnels in the deeper levels of the Undercity, connecting and branching out like blood vessels.

In some ways, it’s exactly as you imagined. It’s hard to believe that such a small room is home to one of the greatest people in Zaun; it feels wrong that it doesn’t match the size of his heart and spirit.

The man himself gestures for you to sit on his bed as he leans against his dresser. His face is schooled into a composed expression, the notch between his brows ironed out to unblemished smoothness. But his thumb twitches before he pushes his hands deep into his pockets.

“When’s the last time you smoked?” you ask.

“I’m alright,” he says in a flat voice. “Just say what you need to say.”

You glance at him for permission to put down your bag. When he nods, you set it down and walk over to his bookshelf, scanning it. You thought you saw a pack of cigarettes and a lighter under the shadow of a leaning hardcover book, and you spot them on the second shelf from the top. It’s a small, crumpled pack with only two cigarettes left, its presence clearly forgotten a while ago. The flat and gray lighter must have been overlooked as well, so different from Silco’s favorite golden one.

You grab a cigarette, putting it between your lips before picking up the lighter. After a few flicks, it ignites with a snap. The flame is bright in your eyes as you burn the end of the cigarette. The relief is immediate as you take a deep inhale, the gas coiling in your mouth and tingling down your throat as your veins buzz.

Fighting the temptation to take another drag, you instead hand the cigarette over to Silco. When he takes it, you turn away to blow out a long, slow stream of smoke. It curls against the corner of the room before it dissolves into nothingness.  

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he says, eyebrow arching in surprise. He takes a puff as he closes his eyes, humming in satisfaction.

“I quit a long time ago.” 

Smoking is so commonplace in Zaun that you had never seen a non-smoking venue until you visited Topside for the first time as a teenager. It had been a hard habit to kick in your youth, as your Piltie clientele didn’t appreciate you coming to their meetings stinking of cheap, Undercity nicotine. Of course, you couldn’t do anything about the other smells and vapors of the underground that clung to your hair, skin, and clothes, but at least you could cover those up with a good scrub and floral perfumes. 

“You can keep smoking, as long as you’re listening,” you say patiently.

“Of course,” he says immediately. His hand falls to his side after he takes another puff.

You take another deep breath, not to enjoy the secondhand smoke, but to steady yourself as you arrange the words of your speech, as carefully as Silco’s knickknacks. 

“Okay, so… first off, I really, really, really like you, Silco,” you say slowly. “We have a lot of fun, but this past month has been… rough.

“I would love to be ‘your girl’. But this can’t keep happening. It has to be different from now on.” You take another deep breath, pacing yourself to stay coherent about your complaints.

“I know that you have a lot on your plate, and I love how hard you work for the Nation of Zaun. But you have to stop leaving me hanging. Every minute I waste wondering if you’re going to show up to a date, I could be working on a commission or helping out at the Embrace. It’s fine if you can’t meet up! Just tell me that in the first place,” you say spiritedly.

His gaze at you is serious, calm and composed tranquility to your rising agitation.

“I am capable of that much,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’m afraid I can’t promise to spend more time with you. The Children have embarked on a new mission—”

“No offense, but right now, I don’t care,” you say loudly. “You’re not listening to me! You can go on missions every day if you want, and I’ll do my own thing! Just don’t say you can meet up with me if you can’t!”

“…And what if I said we could never go on another outing again?” he says in a quiet, heavy voice. Gazing at you with sad eyes under a darkened brow.  

You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. “You still need to eat and sleep, right? We’ve had lunch dates and sleepovers before! Are you seriously telling me you can’t spend any time with me?”

“No—”

“Do you want to stop seeing me?” you demand.

“No—”

“Then we can work this out!” you say exasperatedly. When you grab his free hand, he doesn’t stop you.

“I’ve waited my whole life to meet you, Silco,” you say softly. “I can wait a few months until our next date.”

“What if I said you had to wait a year?” he asks, still doubtful.

“You say that like I don’t have anything better to do. I can wait for as long as it takes! As long as you stop lying to me,” you say through gritted teeth.

He takes a long look at you, his face impassive. Jaw set with resolve, he says quietly, “In the interest of fairness, you should know: if I am ever forced to choose between you and the Undercity—”

“You don’t have to say it,” you say fervently. “I would never ask you to choose.”

When he cocks his head questioningly at you, you lock eyes with him before you say, “If you were ever put in that position, I would—I would take myself out of the equation.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised.

You nod. Even as it pains your chest to imagine the scenario, a sorrow that aches just talking about it, you press on. “Zaun is too important for either of us to give up on.”

Silco looks down his nose at you briefly, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Is something funny?” you ask, annoyed that Silco—of all people—isn’t taking you seriously right now, after you admitted something so deeply personal.

He turns away to stub out his cigarette in his ashtray before striding towards you. You’re swept up in his arms when he hugs you tight, lifting you off your feet and spinning you wildly. You squeak involuntarily as the air is crushed out of your lungs, his suddenly cheerful laughter filling the room.

“Hey—!” you choke out, indignant.

“Oh, you don’t understand…” he says excitedly. “You’re perfect.”

He gently lowers you to the ground, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His embrace is still tight around you as you’re smothered into his vest, his breath warm and smoky from the cigarette as it billows past your ear.

“Would you believe that I haven’t taken many lovers since founding the Children of Zaun?” he whispers. “You’re only my third.”

Amazed, you pull back to look at him. His eyes are crinkled from his wide grin, but his gaze at you is earnest.

“Really??” you ask. Your irritation falls away, replaced by astonishment.

He nods energetically. “I have something for you.”

Just as suddenly as he hugged you, he lets go of you, his arm reaching over your shoulder to grab something from his dresser. He pulls something out of the top drawer before pushing it shut.

“I’ll admit, I failed the ones who came before you,” he says slowly. “I don’t regret parting ways with them. Time is all we have, but all my partners have demanded too much of it from me. You are the only exception.”

He holds a large cast-iron key out to you. The black matte of the metal dully reflects the light. It’s clean and smooth, not tarnished by age or excessive use.

You take the key from him. It’s heavy and cool as you run your hand over the grainy metal. You flip it over, marveling at the craftsmanship: the shaft is perfectly straight while the bow is a perfect circle, with entwined arcs and curlicues arranged in a familiar pattern. “Is this—?”

“A key to The Last Drop,” Silco says eagerly. “For you to come and go as you wish. It isn’t enough to make up for how I’ve neglected you. But I hope to start with this.”

“Wow…” you whisper under your breath. “Is this brand new?”

He nods. “I commissioned it a week after our first date, when I realized I only had so much time to share with you. It was finally completed yesterday. I’m sorry I couldn’t get it to you sooner.”

“Well, it’s like you said…” you say as a grin slowly spreads across your face. Your heart glows with affection for him as you clutch the key to your heart. “It’s a good start.”

Silco hugs you much more gently this time, his arms slowly wrapping around your waist. You slide one hand onto his shoulder as his lips meet yours, warm and soft, the taste of nicotine still strong on his mouth. Your heart hammers against the key, trapped between his sternum and yours. It drops to the ground when you slide your other hand up the column of his throat, cupping his cheek when you kiss him again. More intoxicating than when you smoked the cigarette.

He groans as you flick your tongue into his mouth. His own tongue fills you as it brushes against the roof of your mouth. You whine as the arousal flares in your core, a wanting, burning ache between your thighs. Unsatisfied for so long, only partially sated by his embrace. An uncomfortable desperation for his body that borders on unbearable.

Silco hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and shoves them down, dragging your pants along with them. The clothes puddle onto the ground before you kick them away. With your bottom half naked to the air, you clumsily grind against him, still kissing him as you clutch his sides.

He slides one hand underneath your shirt, his palm gliding up your spine as he strides forward slowly, steering you towards the dresser. His hand cushions your back as it touches the edge of the furniture, jostling the knickknacks on top as you lean back. The wood is smooth and cool against your bare ass.

His mouth drags from your lips across your cheek, landing on the hinge of your jaw. Planting kisses there, on your throat, on your collarbone. Slow, indulgent, sucking to leave his marks on you, as if he were a surveyor looking to add another map to his collection. Studying the topography of your body as his hands roam from your torso to your ass, groping you appreciatively. All of it stirring your desire, your thighs clenching involuntarily under his touch.

Silco kneels as if in supplication, looking up at you from under his heavy brow as he kisses your knee. The dark pools of his pupils are blown wide open, almost swallowing the cool waters of his ocean eyes. His hands slide down your legs, his calluses brushing against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Pressing devoted prayers onto your body with his mouth, growing more and more obscene as his lips and hands move upwards in tandem, kissing a winding path up your inner thighs. You shiver as you stand above him, letting out tiny, shuddering gasps every time he stops to suck, red and purple blooming underneath your skin like flower petals.

Finally, he stops as he reaches your mound, every exhale from his nose tickling your clit. He blows on it in one long, cool stream, the teasing air sending a convulsion through your whole body. You can’t help but let out a whimper.

“I missed you too, my lovely,” he whispers hungrily.

He touches the tip of his tongue to your bud, the lightest of grazes that still sends shivers cascading down your leg, intensifying when he dips deeper between your folds to trace the shape of it. Tongue wet, slow, heavy, indulgently savoring the bundle of nerves as if it were a candied sweet. Warm heat billowing in your core as his saliva mingles with the slick dripping from your cunt.

His hands grip your hips as he licks a flat stripe from your entrance to your clit. You whimper as your own hands land in his hair, your fingers carding through it, clinging to his soft locks as fire thrums through your veins. He latches onto your bud with his mouth and sucks, hard and relentless, his hold on you tightening as your legs tremble. A winding tension pulling into a knot deep in your belly, unbearably taut as you gasp his name in a bid for mercy. The edge of the dresser digs into your shoulders as you buck against his mouth, which only encourages him to suck faster. A self-perpetuating cycle that stokes the inferno higher, higher, higher.

The knot snaps as you finally cum, the tender, sweet torture of his mouth breaking you. Hot, overwhelming waves of your orgasm threatening to burn you to ash. All strength leaving your body in bone-wringing shudders as you struggle to stay standing with shaking knees, one hand gripping a fistful of Silco’s hair while you slap the other over your own mouth to muffle your screams. He laps eagerly at your release like a man parched, an oasis between your legs as his thumbs press painfully against your pelvic bone to keep you upright. He hums with delight when his face is trapped between your shivering thighs.  

Silco catches you when your legs finally give out, grabbing you by your waist just as your knees buckle. He carefully gathers you up in his arms, his chest rumbling against your ear when he chuckles wickedly. You can only lie weakly in his embrace, thighs sticky and wet, still helpless in the throes of your orgasm.

“Have you had enough?” he asks, voice low and mirthful.  

“Have you?” you counter breathlessly. 

Your heart jumps when he strides over to the bed and drops you onto it unceremoniously. Still disoriented, you yelp at the brief but terrifying fall through the air before you land on the mattress, the blanket soft against your stomach. Silco pulls your legs off the bed until your toes graze the floor, bending you over the edge of his mattress. Self-conscious of your bare ass in the air, you bury your blushing face in his sheets.

His belt buckle and boots unclasp with a series of businesslike snaps, followed by the rustle of his pants falling to the floor. He nudges your foot with his own, adjusting your stance a little wider. 

He grabs your pelvis and tilts it upwards, raising your ass even higher. 

The leaking tip of his cock brushes up against your pussy. 

It’s all the warning you get before he fucks you. 

You were ready for him, but only just, screaming in the ripping, pained pleasure of your walls being pushed instantly apart as he slams into you over and over again. His fingertips digging deep into your hips, leaving even more bruises to accompany the ones he made with his mouth. 

“Shall I carve my name into you for you to remember?” he growls roughly. “You’re mine.”

His fingernails cut into you, a new, sweeter, sharper pain, proof of the possessiveness you inspire in him. That he wants to use you, that you have no other purpose in life but to be used by him. To have him moving inside you until he ignites your blood like an oil spill, your entire body burning up in ecstasy.

And it feels so fucking good.

You pant and whimper into his mattress, white-knuckling the sheets for dear life. His chest slams against your back, your shirt providing the barest protection against the brass studs on his vest imprinting painfully into you. Trapped between the bed and his body, you struggle to breathe under the crushing pressure.

 “You’ll have to speak up, my lovely,” he purrs against your cheek, a playful lilt to his still aggressive tone. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Wha—what—?” you wheeze out. Barely able to comprehend his words, you turn to the side to hear him better. The knife blade of his nose digs into your ear.

“Say that you’re mine,” he hisses. Something like annoyance burns the edges of his voice, as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the world that you should already know. He slides one hand underneath you and pinches your nipple punishingly, an acute pain that has you yelping as it rips through your core.

“I’m—I’m—” you gasp out. “I’m yours!”

“Good girl,” he whispers, a reward just as gratifying as the new movements of his hand on your breast, a gentle, soothing palming to ease the earlier hurt, masterfully inflicting pain and pleasure in equal measure. You’re powerless underneath him, subject to his every whim, eagerly taking everything he doles out to you. Receiving his cock, manhandling, praise, and anything else he might deem you worthy of.

“It was—so gracious of you—to let me be your first—” Silco grunts out, his normally articulate manner wavering from exertion. “It’s only fair—that I’m your last as well—no? Your one and only—your everything?”

“Yes!” you cry out. Overjoyed at not needing to hold back your passion for him, that he knows exactly how you feel about him because he feels the same for you. Unable to fully articulate your feelings even when he’s not driving the breath out of you with his cock.

“Will you let me fill you, my lovely? Let me paint your insides as pretty as your portraits—” he rambles, his rhythm stuttering for the first time. “I can be an artist too—and you’re the most exquisite canvas I could ever hope to work with—”

“Yes! Silco—please!” you sob as the band in your belly pulls agonizingly rigid. “Cum inside me pleasepleaseplease I need you—!!”

“I’m here, my lovely,” he groans. He readjusts his grip on your pelvis again, tilting you upwards before he drives deeper into you. “I love you.”

One last scream tears out of your soul, and it’s all you can do to shove your face into his sheets to stifle it. As your orgasm snaps your last tether to reality and you fall into the void where there’s nothing, nothing but Silco and the all-consuming euphoria. A paradoxical riddle you have no intention of solving if it might diminish any of the sensations now scorching every atom of your being. Helpless to the sheer force of ecstasy as he plunges into the depths of your pussy, a primal joy overpowering you when he floods you with his cum. He grinds against the entrance to your womb, stretching the ring of muscle deep inside you with the tip of his cock. Your screams turn into keening whines as you savor the delicious agony of him filling you to the brim, your walls fluttering in tandem with his pumping. 

The twitching of his cock finally, finally ceases. Silco slumps onto you, exhausted, his own legs trembling against your own. You wheeze out his name as you sink deeper into the mattress, fighting for air. 

“I’m so sorry—are you alright??” he asks, winded and worried. He struggles to prop himself up, his arms shaking from effort.

“I’m… I’m okay,” you say in between gasping breaths. If only you didn’t need to breathe, you could lay underneath him forever. Your heart still hammers away, not just from the exertion but from the overwhelming excitement of what you want to say next. Struggling to push yourself off the mattress so you can look him in the eyes first.

He pulls out of you, and you can’t help but mourn the loss of his seed as it drips out of you. A soreness blooms deep in your core as he helps pull you onto the bed. He lies down next to you before resting a sweaty palm on your hip. You reach out with a shaky hand to push his disheveled hair out of his flushed face, the clear waters of his turquoise eyes bright against his reddened skin.

“Silco…” you say slowly. “I love you, too.”

Too late, you only just now realize he might have said those words in the heat of the moment. But before you can take it back, his eyes widen with delight and surprise. 

“I love you,” he says fervently. “I’ve felt this way for so long… I wish I knew to tell you sooner.”

He crashes his lips into yours, seemingly reenergized by your declaration. You moan as arousal curls between your legs again. It takes a monumental effort for you to pull away and put a finger on his mouth, but you’re determined for him to listen to you. 

“You know what this means, right?” you ask. 

He scoots closer to you, chasing your lips for one last peck. But he nods as he settles into his pillow, listening intently with curiosity. 

“You’re mine too, Silco,” you say happily.

“Of course,” he says with a joyful grin. “It’s all I was ever born to be.”

You laugh as he rolls you onto your back, kissing him as he settles between your legs. Gasping out his name as he fucks you again, and again, and again. Making up for lost time, telling him how much you love him.

And he tells you endlessly, that he loves you, too. 

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Going forward, chapters will now be released every other week. Hopefully that'll only be temporary; my writing pace has been a bit irregular lately and I have some real-life commitments coming up that I need to deal with but with any luck, I can go back to a weekly release schedule in a month or so. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! My inbox is also open to requests for both sketches and drabbles, or just to chat. Feel free to say hi :3c

[atopvisenyashill]

Ive seen lot of discourse about it esp pre season 2 so i wanna know your thoughts on the Driftmark scene .

💀💀

i think the most too blame people are the adults. in fact i don’t really blame the children at all. i think it’s stupid to get up in arms about luke using a knife on aemond when like, in the book, it’s not even treated as weird that this five year old is walking around with a dagger. i think the fact that luke only uses the dagger once jacaerys starts losing the fight against aemond shows that luke has a child’s understanding of violence; he goes for the eye to stop the fight, and doesn’t grasp that maiming aemond is a very serious thing that he can’t undo. i think both aemond and jacaerys think the best thing, The Dutiful Thing is to deal with this situation themselves, because they’re Almost A Man Grown, and they’re too angry (and too childish bc they’re literal children) to realize that the mature thing to do is to LEAVE THE SITUATION and GO GET A GROWNUP and of course, it escalates to a horrific degree (they’re both doing this for different reasons, but it amounts to the same sort of “the right thing to do is to be a man and handle this silly fight myself” line of thinking). we can have a lot of conversations about people’s tempers and who started the fight, and what the addition of a rock or the girlsdoes to the dynamic but i just feel that ultimately, this fight went on for too long bc they were not being supervised correctly. i have a really hard time blaming a five year old who was given a dagger for using that dagger nor do i think it’s on aemond to anticipate that the toddler he picked a fight with would bring both a wooden sword AND a dagger to a fistfight. also i’m sorry but it is darkly funny that a twelve year old got jumped by two toddlers, sue me. the blame doesn’t lie with them, i don’t think any of the three of them realized it would escalate so quickly, and then everyone around them acted INSANE afterwards.

now when we get into the fallout of it. first of all, i think people are purposefully obtuse about why rhaenyra goes on the offensive. i cannot stress enough that part of the issue here is that she’s committing treason which is punishable by death. does she help the situation at all? no. but “she’s mad they said the truth” is like saying cersei is only mad at ned bc he said the truth; they’re mad bc someone knowing the truth means they could die. i think both rhaenyra & alicent start acting crazy bc now this issue between them has spilled out between their kids in like a REAL in your face way and they’re both looking for viserys to like, DO SOMETHING do anything, and when they feel like he’s not doing enough they decide “fuck it time to show him EYE can cross the line if i have to” and viserys responds by making it worse 😭

secondly, laying out how viserys just completely fucks this. he’s the one who makes this disastrous decision to make it illegal to talk about his grandsons, confines his heir away from court, and then refuses to acknowledge that like, it was pretty fucked up thing that just happened to his son, so everyone walks away with some sort of righteous fury over the event and once again digs in their heels to make the dumb, violent decisions that help escalate this entire thing into war. and it’s not even that viserys is trying to do the right thing and just failing, like say, egg & the issues he has with succession, viserys is trying to do the easiest thing, the thing that gets everyone to stop yelling at him & do what he says. bro they are taking eyes out and threatening to torture each other. this is so far beyond something that can be fixed with a kiss on the cheek. these are two opposing sides CONVINCED the other is going to kill them, it’s not like him & rhaenys or him & daemon. but he just says “it’s fixed it’s fine” and goes home. why are dads like this.

[febuwhump]

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPT LIST

this year's prompts were chosen through a suggestion poll (in which we recevied 2,281 prompts) and a subsequent vote, where over 1,000 people voted for their favourites. the top 29 make up the core prompts, and a mixture of the next most popular - and this blog's personal favourites - have become the alternates

i’m so excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and hope they’re inspiring enough to trigger a whole month’s worth of creativity for you! if you have any questions, please check out the blog's faq before sending an ask, or check out the previously asked questions on the blog!

please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.

full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPTS:

DAY 1: helpless

DAY 2: solitary confinement

DAY 3: "bite down on this"

DAY 4: obedience

DAY 5: rope burns

DAY 6: "you lied to me"

DAY 7: suffering in silence

DAY 8: "why won't it stop?"

DAY 9: bees

DAY 10: killing in self defence

DAY 11: time loop

DAY 12: semi-conscious

DAY 13: "you weren't supposed to get hurt"

DAY 14: blood-stained tiles

DAY 15: "who did this to you?"

DAY 16: came back wrong

DAY 17: hostage situation

DAY 18: too weak to move

DAY 19: "please don't"

DAY 20: truth serum

DAY 21: unresponsive

DAY 22: "you weren't meant to be there"

DAY 23: presumed dead

DAY 24: "i'm doing this because i care about you"

DAY 25: waterboarding

DAY 26: "help them"

DAY 27: left for dead

DAY 28: "no... not like this"

DAY 29: not allowed to die

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!

ALT 1: human shield

ALT 2: "i love you"

ALT 3: found footage

ALT 4: human weapon

ALT 5: cpr

ALT 6: immortality

ALT 7: last words

ALT 8: killing game

ALT 9: lightning strike

ALT 10: last man standing

RULES:

SOFT RULES:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce whatever kind of media they want

you don’t have to complete all the prompts! you can create however much you want to

you can use the prompts after the event ends and can complete them in tandem with any other event

you can post on any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing those posted on tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame then you have until the 3rd of March to inform this blog that you completed all the days

if you have questions consult the faq before asking

HARD RULES: (specifically for being featured on the blog)

when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:

febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2024)

the relevant day’s tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2…

nsfw (if relevant)

and any trigger warnings that may be important!

you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump

i cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog because I have no idea how many participants there will be. a random selection of works tagged in accordance to the rules above will be reblogged every day of february.

[moonstruckme]

OMGGGGGGG

the first kiss was so cute!!! perfect!! james was so sweet and gentle w her😍😭😭

can’t wait to see there dynamic from now on

Thank you gorgeous! I held onto this so I'd have something to post this last part to, hope you don't mind <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

James is buzzing while he makes breakfast the next morning. Golden morning light pours in through the front windows, brightening the kitchen and warming his back where he stands in front of the stove, the buttery smell of pancake batter wafting up from the pan. He’d gone to bed later than usual last night and slept hard but woke jittery, desperate to do something about the commotion in his chest. 

A run hadn’t done it, nor had replaying the previous night in his head, and now he’s convinced he won’t be able to rest until he can kiss you again. It’s your fault, really. Your little sighs, your careful touches, the way you’d tugged at the roots of his hair when he asked you to, like all this time you’d only been waiting for permission. You’ve fucked him. James will never be able to get over it. Now, all he can think about is getting more. 

He’s made more pancakes than a family of five could eat when he hears the stair creak. 

“Good morning,” he says, turning around just as you pad into the kitchen, quiet as a ghost. 

Your eyes are bleary, but they still manage to widen slightly as you take him in, along with the precarious tower of pancakes beside him. You’re in that sweatshirt he loves so much, sleeves hanging limply from your hands and hem hitting just above your knees. 

“Morning,” you say, softer than soft. 

“How’d you sleep, lovely?” 

You shrug, not quite looking at him. “Fine. You?” 

James grins. “Beautifully. You want some pancakes?” 

Your gaze goes again to the stack beside him, and he can practically see the quip brewing in your eyes. Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. Are you planning to feed an army?

“Sure,” you say in that same quiet voice. “Thanks.” 

James studies you, intrigued. “Great. C’mere, sweetheart.” 

He plates up a few pancakes, keeping one eye on you as he does. You seem disinclined to look even in his general direction, finding distractions with the stove, your plate, the weather outside. 

“How’s this?” He turns around with the plate. You take it cautiously, by the complete opposite end to avoid any possibility of making contact with his hand. James’ heart warms at the way your fingers just peek out from the sleeve of your sweatshirt to grasp the plate. He wants to kiss you until you don’t know what day it is. “Too many? Not enough?” 

“This is good.” 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t let go of the plate. He tilts his head, trying to catch your eye, but you evade him. He has a hunch that if he were to touch your face (and god, does he want to) he’d find it burning hot. “Are you alright?” 

Your eyes flit up to his for a half a second before fleeing again. You hum, the sound tense and pitchy. “Mhm.” 

“You sure?” he asks, matching your soft tone. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” 

You look like you stop breathing. 

And ordinarily James might feel bad, but post-kiss James cannot be prevailed upon to treat you as cautiously as he ordinarily might. Unfortunately for you, your secret’s out. You’re lovely, you’d said, voice soft and breathy and mere inches from his own mouth, I like having you around. I do. I really like you. Also unfortunately for you, post-kiss James knows things. 

He slips his palm alongside your face, working his hand behind your ear and letting his fingers burrow into the hair behind it. You melt, leaning into the touch. Your eyes meet his. 

It’s grueling work to keep from smiling. “What’s wrong, angel?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, still quietly but now with more of yourself in your voice. 

“Really? Because you’re acting like we’ve just met.” 

“Don’t you—don’t things feel different to you?” You seem almost distressed, eyebrows hooking upwards just slightly, pretty eyes imploring. Your voice softens again, now more with intimacy than reticence. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to talk with you about.” 

James lets his smile loose, thumbing at the skin behind your ear before letting you go. “We can talk about anything you want,” he says simply, grabbing his own plate and leading you into the living room. 

You’ve got a perfectly good kitchen table but almost never use it, each preferring to eat your meals on the couch. He flops down, careful not to tip his pancakes onto the cushion as he crosses his legs underneath him like you’re at a sleepover. 

“So, have any fun dreams last night?”  

You smile. It’s as heart-stoppingly lovely as always, and James thinks his own probably doubles in magnitude in response. 

“A couple,” you admit. 

“Oh? What about?” 

Your smile goes sheepish, bottom lip slipping in between your teeth as if to impede its progress. You fork clinks against the plate as you start cutting up your pancake. 

James’ brain short-circuits. 

“You were in my dream,” he blurts. 

Your eyes flit up to his warily. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It was one of those weird, super vivid dreams where nothing really happens, you know?” You seem to relax a bit. James douses his pancakes in syrup, starting to cut them up as he talks. “We were here, and someone had spilled something on the rug—probably Sirius, to be honest—and it made this huge stain. I’d tried to pour baking soda on it, but the whole box had collapsed and it got everywhere. We were both sitting right there scrubbing with literal toothbrushes, and I think I was worried you’d be upset with me but you were just laughing.” His heart warms at the pseudo-memory, the hazy feeling of contentment that had permeated the dream. The sound of your laugh, exactly as sweet as in real life. “Your hands were totally covered in baking soda, and the rug was ruined, but we were both laughing our heads off.” 

You’re smiling again, a small, knowing thing. “Had you said something to make us laugh?” 

“No,” he says honestly, “I think it was you.” 

James is aware that he’s barely functioning. It’s almost too much to talk and cut his pancakes at the same time while you’re looking at him like that, like he’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen. It makes it both a relief and a disappointment when you drop your gaze. 

“Do you think the stain might’ve been a premonition?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “How do you mean?” 

You laugh, and he’s instantly spellbound, caught somewhere between fantasy and reality. It takes him a second to realize you’re touching the edge of his plate, tipping it up. James looks down. It had been nearly falling off his lap, his pancakes cut up into tiny pieces and syrup pooled near the rim. 

You look up at him, seraphim with the morning light brightening your features and the hint of a smile playing on your lips. He thinks of how soft they’d felt on his the night before, the way they’d fallen open like welcoming him home. 

“You were almost spilling syrup onto the rug,” you say, that rare and beloved teasing lilt to your voice. “It would’ve taken more than baking soda to get that out.” 

“See?” he asks. “You know how to talk to me just fine.” 

You look surprised, then self-conscious, though not nearly as bad as when you’d come into the kitchen a few minutes ago. He covers your hand with his to keep you from going anywhere. Sets his plate on the coffee table. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your eyes are wide. “Again?” 

“Yes, again,” James laughs. “And again after that, preferably. Only if it’s okay with you.” 

You shake your head, looking something akin to bewildered. “Yeah. Yeah, please.” 

He starts to lean toward you, and you meet him halfway. Already, it’s a bit different. There’s no tentative stillness, no slow yielding. Your lips are pliant and eager, parting and closing around his like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Your fingers wind in his hair without instruction, and James responds by placing his hand in that spot you’d seemed to like it so well last night, the material of your sweatshirt soft beneath his touch. You taste like his pancakes, the syrup sweet on your tongue. 

“Keep talking to me,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips worshipfully, “okay?” 

Your voice is breathless. “Why?” 

“Because I like you.” He tugs at you, wanting you closer. “And I think I’ve put in the work for you to warm up to me, if it’s all the same to you.” 

You make a tiny, amused sound. “Fine,” you say. You grow bolder, kissing your way up his cheek, the top of his eyebrow, until your nose is nestled in his hair and your lips are caressing his forehead. “Consider me warmed.” 

James grins, unable to help himself. He thinks that becoming your friend didn’t go quite as he planned, but he feels as though he won in the end.

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU part 11

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Part 10 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 12 is here!

Your eyes are closed as you travel through time and space, wondering where you'll end up this time. Surely, if the universe saved you one more time, it means you'll probably end up in a better place-

Your eyes snapped open at the loud sound of thunder. You're staring up at the sky, dark clouds lightening flashing across it and-

I'm still falling!

You're not able to breathe until you take a gasp just as you hit the ground below you-

Wet. No, not ground. You look around in the dark water, not able to visualise anything before adrenaline kicks in and you start to swim to the surface.

You gasp as you come up and look around you.

You're in the sea. You're in the middle of the sea!

Your heart is drumming against your chest as you look up at the sky. Its dark, filled with heavy cloud and thunder. As the waves around you begin to move, your blood runs cold.

Storm. Sea storm.

Before you're able to react, though you doubt you could've prepared yourself, the waves crash down on you, pulling you back under the waters. No matter how hard you try to come back up, the waves thrash you here and there, insistent on drowning you. Even if you're able to break the surface for a few seconds, you're only able to take in so much air before getting waterboarded by the sea.

You're thrashing about under the waters, your body starting run out of adrenaline and reaching exhaustion, when you spot something in the corner of your eye.

Its a dark, huge figure. Horizontal, streamlined-

Shark. Its a fucking shark!

You'd scream if your body would listen to you. But you froze, and for some reason, your mind went on autopilot and made you raise your fists.

What? Fight the shark? What the fuck Y/n-

The shark was less than 5 feet from you when an orca came out of nowhere and attacked the shark.

You could only watch as the two sea animals fought each other, the killer whale clearly winning as the shark's thrashing began to subdue. That was the last thing you saw before losing consciousness, praying to God someone finds your body at least.

-

You wake upto the sound of a woman screaming.

Screaming. So, I must be in hell. Huh.

Your eyes flutter open and you look around the large white room you're in.

Its a hospital ward.

Your gaze falls on the shrieking female patient, currently being strapped to her bed as nurses try to inject her with something.

"Oh, you're awake." A nurse states as she comes by your side, noticing the English accent. "Didnt think you would after they found you washed up on the shore. You were shivering all over!"

Ah, nearly drowned. Nearly had hypothermia. Maybe I should have a "near-death" board.

You cleared your throat. "Where am I? How long was I out?"

"You're in London, honey. It was the nearest hospital from where'd they found you. You've been here for a day." She watched you sit up. "Where you from, dearie?"

Pressing your temples, you answered. "Just... around."

Her face turned somber. "You're one of those, arent you?"

"One of who?" You narrowed your eyes at her. "One of who?"

"One of the damned who spread their filth-!" She snarled, stopping when she saw a doctor come up. "Hello, Dr Lowe!" The doctor merely gave her a nod, his eyes fixed on you. "And how are you, miss-?"

"Y/n." Whats the point of lying with another name? Its not like they'd find a record of you.

"Miss Y/n." He nodded. "Do you remember what happened? Why you were on the beach?"

"Um..." You tried to come up with an excuse. "I think... I was trying to swim."

Dr Lowe raised a brow. "Swim? In the winter?"

"Mmhm. Better to prepare myself for the summer." You feigned a smile, not receiving one back.

"Why?" The nurse asked, shrinking when the doctor shot her a glare.

"For... for fun?" You answered, unsure. What, is swimming a crime here?

"And you were swimming in... these clothes." You look down, noticing you were still in the Ottoman attire, wearing a flimsy gown.

"I was rehearsing for a play." The lie rolled out easier this time.

"Are you married?"

"No." I just escaped several attempts though. "Are we done here? I need to get home."

"And where would that be?" The doctor asked, crossing his arms as he looked at you.

"Outside of London. I dont feel comfortable telling you the address." You answered, not appreciating his interrogation.

"Miss, do you know what day it is today?" Shit.

"No. I have never been good at remembering dates." You pull the sheets off you to get off the bed but the doctor's words stop you.

"Its 8th of October."

And this is where you made a stupid mistake.

"What year?" The question came out before you could think of the repercussions.

"You... dont remember the year?" The doctor and the nurse shared a look before looking back at you.

"1860."

1860. 1860. London-

Victorian era.

Shit.

"Of course, I remember the year. I was just making sure. Anyways, I have to go-"

"You're not going anywhere, miss. You're not well. You need treatment." The doctor grabs your shoulders, pushing you back down.

"No, no. I am all good now! You saved my life, but I need to go-" You tried to push his hands off your shoulders, watching the nurse leave in a hurry.

The doctor shook his head. "No, miss. You may be fine physically, but not mentally." "What?" "You dressing up like this, playing some character, going to the sea to drown yourself because you're not happy with life, not remembering dates, and not having a husband- you have hysteria!"

You shook your head frantically. "No, I dont have hysteria-!"

"Not to worry miss! Its very common among women these days, sadly. But I have treated many of them successfully! And I'm sure that will be the case for you as well- Nurse! I need restraints and injections-"

Injection? Hysteria? Oh no, no. No. No! You've read about how they treated hysteria in the 1800s. Sent away to the seaside, lobotomy or forced orga-

"I AM NOT HYSTERICAL!" You thrashed around as more doctors and nurses came to hold you down. You spot the nurse holding up an injection and you only fought harder to escape as you realised Victorian medicine was basically poison itself.

"STOP- STOP! DONT INJECT ME WITH THAT!" You struggled with all your might to free yourself from their grasp, but their grip was tight and unyielding. "ITS FUCKING POISON! YOU IDIOTS! YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING KILL ME!"

You watched in horror as the nurse brought the needle closer to your arm, not even bothering to use an alcohol swab to sterilise the area so great- you'll die of an infection-

"Let her go!" They all looked towards the doorway, where a man stood looking furious. Wearing a brown coat with long sleeves and a wide collar exposing his waistcoat, he marched over to your bed and angrily took off his top hat.

"What is the meaning of this cruelty?! Unhand my wife now!" He yelled at the hospital staff.

Dr Lowe glared at him. "Wife? She said she wasnt married!"

The man scoffed. "We had a fight!" He glared at you this time. "Well, I'm sorry I spent a night away at the pub, darling! Forgive me and come back home?"

They all were staring at you now, and it only took a moment of eye contact with him for you to catch on.

"Fine. I forgive you. Lets go home-"

"Wait a second." The doctor narrowed his eyes at you. "You were found at the beach hours away from here. If he's your husband, then what were you doing there?"

He caught you off guard for a second, but you lied through your teeth.

"I obviously ran away!" You huffed. The man at the other end pulled the doctor by his collar. "And I'm from the newspaper, so if you dont let my wife go now, I will write an article besmirching you- not this run down hospital, no. I will be critisising you personally- whats your name?"

"Dr Lowe!" You pitched in. "Thank you, darling." The man nodded at you before continuing to threaten the doctor.

"I will crucify you, Dr Lowe."

The doctor huffed and nodded at the staff to let you go.

5 minutes later, you were walking with the man to the front desk to collect your belongings. You dont have your time machine on you or your jewellery from the Ottomans.

"Thank you..." You looked at him.

"Colin. Colin Felton."

As you waited for the nurse to return with your things, Colin introduced himself. True to his word, he did work in a newspaper, though you could only describe his work as "investigative journalism", but the term wasnt coined yet.

He was here at the hospital because he'd been trying to collect evidence on the inhumane attitude of healthcare workers towards patients and the alleged barbaric treatments towards the residents.

"So, why'd you help me? I mean, how'd you figured I wasnt hysterical?"

"I didnt." He grinned. "Hysterical or not, no one deserves to get lobotomised or whatever sadistic process they were going to subject you to." Colin looked at you. "How'd you know the injection was going to kill you? And what poison?"

"Look at the state of the hospital- there's arsenic on the walls. And most of the patients there were either strapped to their bed, or lying limp, drooling and groaning. The staff themselves looked like death, and there's no real concept of hygiene here, is there?" You shook your head. "The place is understaffed, overpacked, and completely unprepared for any epidemic or even anything mild!"

Colin chuckled. "Well, well, well. Who taught you so much about hospital management?"

Well, I am from the future where modern medicine has been able to provide vaccines for diseases you could die of.

You shrugged your shoulder. "My brother and I spent a summer at the mortuary." Which is true. You and Qasim had decided one summer to learn more about human anatomy (so that you could one day make your own humanoid-robots) and as kids who were unsupervised by working parents, you decided the best way to learn anatomy would be to go to the mortuary and just... take one home.

Look, in your 7 year old mind- it sounded like a good idea. There were a lot of unclaimed dead bodies at the local morgue and they wouldnt mind if you took one, right?

Qasim was hesitant but went along when you stated it was "for the advancement of science!"

Yeah, anyways, the moment you and Qasim had sneaked in and pulled the storage compartment holding someone, the doctor there caught you two. The only reason he didnt call your parents then was when you two begged you'd do anything and you were just trying to learn about human body and you swore that it wasnt for any "black magic", he instead made you and Qasim intern at the morgue.

Dr Johnson was more concerned that you two werent freaking out over dead bodies, and he probably kept you two around to see if you had any homicidal tendencies, but he found out you two were just curious kids. He was a great teacher, in all honesty, not only did he teach you about anatomy, but also a lot about the embalming, forensics, murder weapons and-

"What do you mean they're not there?" You asked the nurse. "Where's the rest of my stuff?!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, you didnt have anything on you besides the clothes on your back. And you're wearing them-"

"I'm going to give you one more chance- where's. My. Stuff?!" You snapped at her. The nurse stared at you unflinching. You pulled up your sleeve, ready to lunge. "You listen here-"

"What my wife means to say-" Colin placed a hand on your shoulder, reeling you back. "-would you please be kind and check again?"

"Like I told the missus- she didnt bring anything. Also- your missus was carried in here in the arms of another man-"

"What man?" You cut her attempt at tattling.

"He didnt give a name." She scoffed. "He just dropped you on one of the beds and left."

"What did he look like? What was he wearing?"

"I dont remember his face, but he wearing a black coat and hat, and I remember a golden band on his ring finger." She gave you a nasty look at the mention of the ring.

-

"What was so important that you lost?" Colin asked as you two walked. After questioning the nurse until she got fed up, Colin pulled you out of the hospital.

"Just some... jewels. A bracelet. Some cash- well the last bit of it that would get me home." You mumbled, every part of your being doing its best not to break down over losing the only way home. Because if you dont remain calm and lose your shit, you'll end up right back at the hospital to undergo nightmarish treatments.

"We could report it to the police. Although I doubt your case would take priority over the recent rise in murder cases-" You tuned him out as you tried to think where your time machine is.

I was dropped into the sea.... and the waves were harsh. Did I lose it in the sea?

Your stomach twisted at the thought of losing the time machine forever. At least with the thief theory, you had a small chance of getting it back. But you cant go scuba diving to find it in the sea!

"So, what are you going to do now?" He asks as you both sit down. You're holding your head in your hands. Colin's brows furrow in concern.

"Y/n?"

"I dont know, Colin!" You looked up at him. "I dont know! I lost all my belongings, everything that I needed to get home! I have no family, no place to stay and I'm a woman in a time where everyone is trying to either send me off to the looney bin or live horribly in a workhouse!"

"How do you know workhouses are horrible?" Colin raised a brow at you, an accusatory look in his eyes. "This isnt the first time you ran away from home, is it?"

You looked at his face, judging you. If you say yes, he'll think you're just a mad woman who is actually homeless and is trying to use him to get money. And you're already low as it is, you dont need more kicking down.

Scoffing, you glared at him. "What? You think I'm just a mad woman who is actually homeless and is trying to use you for money?" You shake your head, your mind making up excuses. "I... snuck into one of the workhouses."

"Why?"

"So... that I could expose the horrible working and living conditions." You continued before he could ask why. "A friend of mine lived in a workhouse. She complained about the hard labour, the isolation, the inhumane punishments. She died there." You looked down, both for dramatic effect and to avoid being caught in a lie. "I wanted to get justice for her. But the higher ups found out and tried to keep me quiet, which lead to me being on the run and hiding from them, wearing disguises-" You gestured to your Ottoman attire. "-but they caught me and put me on a boat to kill me. It was just pure luck that I washed up on the shore."

Allah, I know lying is a sin but lord- that was amazing how quick I came up with that. Please do not use this to make an example out of me.

Colin gave you a sympathetic look.

"I think I have a way to help you."

-

You were sitting in Colin's apartment.

"Here you go." He returned from the kitchen with a cup of tea.

"Thank you." You took a sip, letting the warm beverage heat your hands. "So, whats your plan?"

"I share this place with 4 people, and one of them has moved out. So, we have a vacant room for you." Colin pointed to a room on the left.

You sighed. "Thats very kind of you to offer Colin, but I cant live here for free-"

"Who said "free"?"

"I dont have a job. I cant pay rent-"

"You do have a job." Colin grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Work with me."

"At the newspaper?" You set your cup down. "I mean- I dont have any experience writing-"

He waved you off. "You dont have to write. I'll write. You- will just collect information for me."

You pondered about his statement. So basically, he wants you to be the "investigator" in "investigative journalism".

"Look, you're gutsy, you're smart, and you're strong willed. I need someone like that to collect data and infiltrate places to expose injustice." Colin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'd do it myself, but I've been around these places so many times that they know now that I'm from the paper. Plus, there are many places only a woman could sneak into instead." He clasped his hands. "Its an interesting job. You'll get to meet all kinds of people. And who knows, maybe even the man who saved your life and stole your belongings."

You nodded. "So, how much will you pay?"

-

Later that night, you met with Colin's flat mates- Liam, who was a police officer, Shepherd, who was a barkeeper and Benjamin who was a barber. Fortunately for you, they were all glad to have you as a flatmate, or well maybe they were just happy to have someone to share the expenses with.

Next morning, Colin told you about the assignment he was working on.

"My main project is about exposing the harrowing conditions of patients forced to undergo unnecessary and painful treatments and the atrocious attitude of the staff towards the patients. Especially in mental asylums." He huffed out, shaking his head as if recalling the nightmarish scenes he'd seen. "But thats a big project and is still underworks. You, will have to first interview and collect some dirt on some influential people and upperclass."

"Why?"

"To get access to Queen Victoria." "And why do I need her?" Colin smiled. "Well, the royal family has many sick people, so if she were to become aware of the grim conditions her subjects have to go through at hospitals, then maybe she will do something about it."

"And you think she would help us?"

He nods. "I believe she will. I think birthing 9 children and being surrounded by men who keep things from her, she doesnt have time for her subjects. But if we were to point her in the right direction until she's unable to ignore the problem."

Well, it is true that the English royal family had many illnesses passed down, famously haemophilia and due to inbreeding, some mental illnesses as well. You suppose Colin's plan just might work.

"Okay. So who's my first interviewee?"

"Charles Dickens."

-

What an asshole.

When Colin told you that you were going to interview or well "dig up dirt" on Charles Dickens, you already knew the literary legend was a jerk. Like most kids, you had read his books- "A Christmas Carol", "Oliver Twist", "David Copperfield", etc. Unlike most kids, you looked him up on the internet and went down the rabbit hole to find out everything about his life.

Including his unhappy marital life, where he was married to Catherine Dickens and basically cheated on his wife with an actress 27 years his junior- "Ellen Ternan", or as he liked to call- "Nelly". He had a secret affair with Nelly, who he had apparently spoken "highly" of- having “a pretty face and well-developed figure”—or “passably pretty and not much of an actress.”

But wait- it gets worse.

So after Catherine found out about his affair, she quietly lived apart from him. A painful scandal arose, and Dickens did not act at this time with tact, patience, or consideration. The affair disrupted some of his friendships and narrowed his social circle, but surprisingly it seems not to have damaged his popularity with the public.

While Catherine maintained a dignified silence, Charles took it upon himself to justify his affair by writing letters about Catherine as being an "unfit wife" because of some "peculiarities of temperament" she had, even saying that she didnt care for the kids nor they for her, which in 1800s- was all that you were good for as a woman. And if you're not good at your job and have "peculiarities of temperament" then that means you're just insane.

Yes, Charles Dickens tried to justify his cheating ass with a girl almost 3 decades younger than him, by saying "my wife's crazy!" Which is... a pretty serious allegation because you could be sent to the mental asylum for torturous treatments.

Which is how you got into his house in the first place. Your cover story is that you're a doctor at the mental asylum and have come over to check on Catherine after Charles wrote letters to the hospital expressing his "grave concern over her mental health". That was a tip Colin was able to get.

And now here you are, sitting in his parlour as he told you on and on about his works, how terrible his life was in general- not growing up, and how women in his life have been just such a bad influence.

"What do you think, doctor?" He asked, finally stopping after 20 minutes of yapping.

You cleared your throat, setting the tea cup down. "Oh I think you're absolutely right, Mr Dickens! My God, what good is a woman if she cant even satisfy her husband or take care of her kids?!" You watched his eyes lit up at your words. "I mean, all women are naturally homemakers. They're supposed to be the providers, the nurturers! If a woman fails to make her family feel warm, fails to make her house a home, then she surely has something terribly wrong with her head! Ah, she definitely needs our help!"

"So, you agree? Catherine needs to be institutionalised-"

"Well, I didnt say that." You gave him a coy smile. "I do understand your concern for your wife- you are a loving husband after all. Loving, caring, honest husband. Such a rare breed of men these days, hm?" You watched his smile falter a bit. "I think I will need to observe her a few more times before I make any decision, Mr Dickens. Now, good day!"

-

"I dont understand why I'm not being paid." You huff as you flop onto the sofa.

Colin sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Because I'm not being paid. And if I dont get paid, you dont get paid, remember?" Ah yes. Since you're not officially hired by his newspaper because you're a woman, you're basically Colin's employee.

"And why are you not being paid?"

"Because the paper didnt publish my exposé!" He handed you the paper.

You looked at the front page and threw the paper to the side. "What the hell is this? How long are they going to run the same news- FRONT PAGE, TOO! Its already been a week!"

"Its a big deal-"

"What? Some guy is returning to London is a news now?" You scoffed.

"Its not just some guy." Colin sighed tiredly, slumping in his chair. "Its a FitzGeorge."

"What the hell is a FitzGeorge?"

"You dont know FitzGeorge?" You shook your head. "Prince George, Duke of Cambridge? Queen Victoria's first cousin?"

You tried to remember anything about him. But you dont remember reading much about any cousins of Queen Victoria, when her kids were already so entertaining to read about.

"So, Prince George is returning?"

"No, he's been dead for years! How do you not know this?"

"I live under a rock. So who is returning?" You redirected him back.

Colin gave you a look. "His grandson. Silas Edmund FitzGeorge."

"Right. And why is he so important that he's been on the front page for a week now?"

"He's the most eligible bachelor now." Seeing your unamused look, Colin explained. "Prince George and Queen Victoria fell apart when the former married a ballerina, Sarah Fairbrother. They married without the Queen's consent, though with Sarah being a ballerina, I doubt her majesty wouldve approved of the union either way. Anyways, since they married without her consent, the marriage was essentially null and any heirs produced were illegitimate and not recognised by the crown, thus would not be granted any Dukedoms. Prince George had 3 sons- George, Adolphus and Augustus FitzGeorge. The youngest- Augustus, had two children: Daisy and Silas. Unfortunately, the kids were quite young when they lost their mother. Augustus was away on service on the sea, when his wife was brutally murdered in the family home and rumour has it- Silas had witnessed it first hand. It was just pure luck that he was not spotted by the murderer that the young child was hiding in his closet. While the kids were in mourning, Augustus had apparently went mad with sorrow when he received the news and drowned himself. Pitying the orphans, Queen Victoria had promised to make Silas a Duke and Daisy a Duchess when they came of age. But Daisy was sent to the mad house out of the blue and a few months later, she died there. Poor Silas was now taken in by his grandmother, Sarah, the very woman Queen Victoria hates. Long story short, Sarah worked very hard to raise Silas and eventually he ended up being the first in the royal family to attend Oxford university-" he leaned forward, smiling. "-without any help from the crown."

Oh, so Silas is self made. And not a nepo baby.

"Silas not only is highly educated, but he's also a very successful businessman. He has invested in many businesses and he's been a huge part in reforming industries."

"So... he's rich and self made? Got it." You looked at Colin. "Still doesnt explain why he's making news? Hell, he even took importance over those horrible murders!"

Colin grinned. "Well, he's not the most eligible bachelor just for the commoners. Apparently, the queen is considering him as a match for one of her daughters." He watched realisation finally dawn on you.

"I still should be paid." You grumbled before glaring at him. "Maybe you need to write a better article, good enough for it to take over the front page."

"If you're done criticising my writing skills, I was going to tell you a remedy for this problem." Colin had an evil glint in his eyes. "And we'll have to use our friend Mr Dickens for it."

-

Colin is a genius.

You're currently sitting in Sarah Fairbrother's house- or well a small mansion. Its a huge estate, lush green grounds surrounding it as far as the eye can see. You were sweating by the time you reached inside, the gardens were huge.

How did you end up here? Colin suggested to use dirt on Charles Dickens and blackmail him into getting you an interview with Sarah, since he is popular and part of the high society. And you only had to say "Nelly" for Dickens to fold. He asked Sarah that a young woman would like to interview her for her years as a ballerina.

You knew Sarah was Silas's grandma, but you still were not expecting to see a slim, 86 year old woman who looked absolutely beautiful. Honestly, she did not look a day beyond 60.

"So, how did you know you wanted to become a ballerina?" You asked her, starting off the interview.

The plan was for you to get close with Sarah and find some secrets, so that when Colin writes about them, the editor will take him seriously and then start posting his Dickens article.

The conversation went from her life as a ballerina, to her life as Mrs FitzGeorge. Sarah practically told you everything, you could see she was lonely and she hadnt had anyone to talk to properly. She was kind, sweet lady, and a prima donna ballerina, and you didnt understand why the queen wouldnt like her. But the thing is, her being a ballerina was a stigma in itself, because back in the 1800s, ballet theatres were used as parlours for men to drink and sleep around with women. Thus, by association, ballerinas were bad too.

But despite the queen's shunning, Sarah did not speak ill of her. No, she was a lovely, demure lady who was still very much passionate about ballet.

"And for all the young girls who aspire to be a ballerina one day, much like myself, what advice do you have for them?" You asked,

"Dance with your heart, and your feet will follow!" She smiled so gracefully, that you couldnt help but return it.

"Thank you for such an amazing interview. I am sure girls from all around London will look upto you one day." You said, closing your journal.

"You flatter me, darling." She giggled before looking down at your legs. "You know, I saw your skirt ride up a bit earlier and I think you have the perfect calves for ballet! Have you ever considered?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I wish! But I think I'm a little too old to learn ballet now."

"My dear, you're never too old to enjoy life!" Sarah smiled.

"Perhaps, one day." You stand up. "I would love to know more about it. Maybe we can do this again, if you have time?"

It wasn't right to use her loneliness, but... you had to make a living. Besides, there are far worse things you can do than talking to an old lady to solict information.

-

You were not expecting Sarah to invite you back two days later, that too for dinner.

"Its not just a dinner, Y/n." Colin said, pacing back and forth. "I think Silas is going to be there. Of course, it'll be a party in his honour! Ah, the return of the beloved grandson and the most eligible bachelor in town!" He continued to mutter incoherently, his mind working overdrive as he began planning ahead.

"How often does he go mad like this?" You whisper to Benjamin, who was currently styling your hair for the dinner.

He smiled, his moustache curling up. "Quite often." He had your hair in a nice updo, and on your insistence, he also allowed some hair to frame your face.

"You cant go empty handed." Colin said, stopping his pacing. "Its high society, you cant go empty handed! You need to get a gift, something appropriate and if possible, memorable enough for them to call you back again and again."

You glared at him through the mirror you were standing in front of as Benjamin helped tighten your corset.

"I dont think anyone will be forgetting me after the objectionable alterations you made to this gown." You pointed to the outfit you were wearing- a baby blue silk gown with delicate lacework around the scandalous neckline and puffy sleeves, courtesy of Colin.

Colin rolled his eyes. "So what if you showed some skin? I'm only trying to ensure that you leave a lasting impression on them." He put on his hat. "Now come along, we have to get a present too."

You and Colin walked down the streets of London, the area bustling as people returned from their jobs and either rushed home or to the pubs.

"Where are we going to get a present now, Colin? One that is both good enough and you can afford to buy too." You commented as you pulled your coat tighter around your body, the cold biting at your bones.

He offered you his arm and pulled you close to his side to warm you up. "I was going to get a wine bottle but the shop closed early today and Shepherd said he hadn't been able to secure any good bottles at the pub, so we'll- we'll just have to go for the next best thing." You two stopped in front of a shop on Regent street.

Regent's Antiques!

"Really? And you can afford antiques?" You raised a brow at him. He shrugged before pushing you inside the shop. "I dont know, but I am good at bargaining."

The shop is huge and immediately stepping inside, you could tell that there was nothing here Colin could afford to buy. The shelves that held the items alone looked like they were made of rich wood, the smell of mahogany, musk and polish filling up your nostrils.

"Lets get out of here before we embarrass ourselves-" you whisper to Colin but he brushes you off and walks further into the store. Sighing, you start browsing the store, an amalgam of things were present there- relics, ceramics, gold and silver and other metalware.

"And how much is this for, sir?" You turned to see Colin ask the salesman for the price of the vase he was holding. You didnt have to hear how expensive it was when you saw Colin's eyes widen as he nervously chuckled before putting the vase back. You heard him do this again over the next 30 minutes, picking up stuff and placing them back.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted a small box. You picked it up and opened it, smiling as it played a melody while the ballerina figurine twirled in the center.

The perfect gift.

You went upto the counter and asked how much it was for.

"100 pounds."

100 pounds... 100 pounds in 1860, with inflation would be todays-

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the box. The salesman mistook your shock for interest and began explaining how its made of pure gold and that this box belonged to a king who gifted it to his queen for their everlasting love.

"Mmhm. Interesting-" You cleared your throat, placing the box back on the shelf. "- but its not what I'm looking for."

"Y/n? What are you doing? I already bought the gift!" Colin came by your side.

"What did you buy?" You asked him before pulling him to the side to whisper. "What could you have possibly afforded in this place?"

"I almost didnt find anything but then the owner of this place saw me and showed me something a little more in my range and I'm getting it wrapped up now!" He told you gleefully.

"The owner? Who?"

"Mr Blackwood! He came here to get a present for someone too and then showed me some old items that were either too ugly or too damaged or just been here for so long, they had to store it in the back! And I found a gem, not too shabby and in a good condition too!" Colin grinned proudly. "Come on, I'll show you the back!"

He ushered you to the storage and true to his word, the room was indeed filled with boring and damaged items. "Take a look around, I need to haul a carriage to load the present and you cant be late!" He left you there.

You browse through the stuff there before going towards the wooden cabinet in the corner. Its locked. You look through the glass panels at the precious antiques inside- mostly bejewelled items like daggers, boxes, broaches and-

Your breath hitched.

Time machine.

My time machine. Its here!

You press your hands against the glass before pulling on the handles to open it, only for the lock to not budge.

Its just glass. You raise your fist. I can just-

"I wouldnt do that if I were you." A voice called out from behind you. You turned to see a man in the doorway, broad shouldered and even from a distance, you could see he had two shades in his eyes.

Green and brown.

Well suited in a coat and shiny dress shoes, he looked like he was going somewhere. He stepped towards you, an mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Those are my belongings." He said.

Oh. So, he's the owner.

"Not all of it. Thats mine." You point to your machine inside. "It was stolen from me a few days ago."

He shrugged. "How can I believe you? I dont know you." He takes another step towards you. "Besides, everything here once belonged to someone. Now? Its mine."

You frowned. "That belongs to me. I even have an official police report." You dont but you decided to bluff.

He chuckled. "Sure you did. But it still doesnt change the fact that its in my possession now." Before you could reply, Colin returned.

"Ah Y/n! I see you've met Mr Blackwood. He's the-" "Owner. I know. And he stole my stuff." You grumbled to Colin.

Mr Blackwood narrowed his eyes at you. "I did not steal it, young lady. Someone came to us and sold it."

You glare at him. "No-" "Yes, of course, Mr Blackwood." Colin cut you off. "And we appreciate that you've kept it safe, but we would like to buy it back from you."

Mr Blackwood looked at him and then at you, before smiling.

"I wasnt planning on selling but since you already bought one of my antiques..." he nodded. "1000 pounds and its yours."

Your jaw went slack and you almost started to swing when Colin grabbed your elbow.

"Mr Blackwood, if you could just give us a better deal-"

"1000 pounds, Mr Felton. And not a penny less." He said before leaving.

-

"Why are you mad at me?" Colin asked as he sat next to you in the carriage.

"I'm mad at him, Colin! There was no way that was worth 1000 pounds! No one would pay such a ridiculous amount! For anything!" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Of course it wasnt worth a 1000 pounds. He raised the price because you pissed him off." You glared at him. "Look, just focus on tonight and when we get our paycheques, I'll go talk to Mr Blackwood again and bargain a good deal. Because even if he did gave us a good deal right now, I couldnt afford it, not after spending money on your outift and that gift,"

You scowl but nod stiffly. "Fine."

The carriage reached the FitzGeorge estate, stopping at the entrance where a small army of servants waited to greet you and other guests.

"Good luck. See you in a few hours." Colin wished you before calling two servants to carry the gift.

"What the hell did you buy?" You ask as you watch the servants carry a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper and a big red bow inside. "Come on, tell me. What if they ask me what it is?"

Colin grinned as he tipped his hat at you. "I guess you'll have to figure out something on the spot. Bye!" The carriage left before you could pester him.

Huffing, you lifted your gown a bit as you walked up the steps and entered inside the beautiful mansion.

The lobby is filled with guests and servants who are taking their coats and leading them inside. There's a stairway on the right leading to private quarters upstairs, a drawing room beside the stairs where you had interviewed Sarah the last time you were here. On the other side, you see a table stacked with presents, your own gigantic box settled behind them.

This was not just a small dinner, was it?

You're lead inside what seems to be a ballroom, the lights seeming to bounce of the polished wooden floors. Waiters are serving guests alcohol and appetisers, and you hold the champagne filled glass too.

Hey, just because I'm not drinking doesnt mean I cant hold it. I need to blend in.

You hold the glass in your hands as you look at the attendees, trying to spot any famous personalities. You notice Charles Dickens again, of course he's here too. Your eyes drink in the pretty dresses of the women and almost roll at the sight of obnoxious men who dont make an effort to conceal their ogling.

Soon, the butlers gets everyones attention as he annoucnes the arrival of the hostess.

"Lady Sarah Louisa FitzGeorge, accompanied by her grandson, Lord Silas Edmund FitzGeorge!"

Sarah was wearing a black regency gown, puffy panelled sleeves and a golden brooch with an onyx stone in the center of her neckline, her neck adorned with pearls and matching tear drop earrings. She walked arm-in-arm with a dashing young man, and you could definitely see why he was the "most eligible bachelor".

Dark chocolate brown hair, the thick locks styled properly and you were sure that under the sunlight, they'd have different shades of brown and golden in them. Fair skinned, yet not deathly pale as most of London is, he had thick brows framing dark grey eyes adorned with enviable thick lashes, that dont seem to be focusing on anyone, just looking ahead, unamused. A sharp Roman nose, followed by perfectly sized pink lips, with a deep and defined cupid's bow and a strong jawline.

They both walked down the stairs and entered the ballroom together, Sarah practically beaming with pride as she walked in with her grandson who towered over her. Everyone talked in hushed whispers, admiring Silas's beauty and how he looked like royalty. Sarah continued to smile at the guests as they made their way towards the center.

As the guest finally quieted down, Sarah began speaking.

"Thank you all for joining me tonight to celebrate my dear Silas's return from Oxford!" People clapped at the huge academic achievement but Silas still looked like he'd much rather be anywhere else than here. Sarah continued. "I had dearly missed him so much. He's been my rock, my star, my everything after his grandfather left me. But tonight is not about sorrows, no. Tonight we celebrate Silas! I hope you enjoy this, darling." She looked up at him and Silas smiled gently at her, a dimple appearing on his left side, leaning down to let her kiss his cheek.

Sarah clapped her hands, nodding at the butler.

Moments later, ballerinas entered the ballroom and began putting on a show. Ah, so this is why you were invited back. Sarah probably thought that you'd enjoy this due to your keen interest in the performing arts.

I mean... its not bad. Actually, its quite entertaining. But you're not here to enjoy ballet. You're here to get dirt on the upper class of London.

You move through the audience, picking up on interesting bits of convo here and there, mostly about extra marital affairs and tax frauds. When you see Silas again, he's not by Sarah's side anymore. No, instead he's now surrounded by some men, much older than him. They seem to be close to him, though Silas doesnt seem to share any familiarity with them as they speak in hushed tones, a hand on his shoulder to emphasise their point. Finally, Silas gives them a nod before moving away from them, and he's once again crowded by 3 boys, much closer to his age this time and Silas actually gives them a smile as they head out of the ballroom.

Friends, maybe relatives? You dont recall Colin telling you he had any brothers, only a sister who passed away in an asylum.

Your eyes trail back to the men who were talking to Silas earlier, only to see a familiar face there.

Mr Blackwood.

Despite being much younger than the men, he seemed to hold authority over them. You could see from the way they shook his hand, eagerly, desperately and talking over each other, but Mr Blackwood just stood there with a charming smile, listening to their concerns before holding a hand up to silence them. He said a few words that seemed to quell their worries before he moved past them and for a brief second, his eyes met yours and he smirked, tipping his head at you before leaving the ballroom.

You thought he'd come to you, maybe interrogate why someone like you was here in the first place, but perhaps you blended in better than you thought.

"Y/n! Darling, you came!" Sarah greeted you happily as she embraced you in a hug. "How do you like the show?"

"Oh, its just so... exquisite. Bewitching, really!" You smile before complimenting her outfit. "And your gown, your jewellery, everything looks so beautiful! If I didnt know any better, I'd say you were Silas's elder sister!"

She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, its you kids who keep me so young! Come on, I want to introduce you to Silas! I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet you." She lead you towards the lobby after a servant told her about his whereabouts, and there you saw him and his friends from earlier.

Silas leaned against the wall, watching humourlessly as the boys went through his gifts, opening them up crassly and mocking the gifts, all while he sipped his champagne.

"Silas- boys! What are you doing?!" At Sarah's admonishing tone, all of them straightened up.

One of the 3 boys, a blonde pouted as he stood up from the floor, dropping the gift box in his hands and you heard glass break.

"Nana! We were just helping Silas open his presents!"

Another boy, also blonde but he was taller than the first one, sheepishly hid his hands behind his back, though the crinkling of wrapping paper gave him away.

"Yes Nana, we were just helping him! He gave us permission to do so."

"Permission to act like animals?" Sarah fumed, making them lower their heads. It was kinds of adorable seeing them standing there looking defeated while a woman much smaller in stature than them scolded them.

Finally, the third boy who was the brunet and the oldest of the three stepped closer to Sarah. "Sorry Nana, we'll be more careful next time. Right boys?" The blondes nodded. The brunet then settled his eyes on you. "And who's the lovely lady next to you, Nana?" He changed the topic and Sarah's anger seemed to evaporate as she looked at you.

"Ah, yes! This is Lady Y/n Paddington!" Yes, Paddington as in Paddington the bear. What? This was the only name that came to mind at the moment that couldnt be traced. "She's the one who interviewed me about my career as a ballerina a few days ago. And look! Today we had a show for her to see!"

The three boys greeted you nicely, making some comments about how pretty you are before getting glared at by Sarah. Silas remained leaning against the wall, looking out the window at the dark night.

"Silas! Darling, come say hi!" Sarah called him before turning her attention to the boys, scolding them for being so undignified for opening Silas's presents.

Silas walked over to you, and you took a deep breath to introduce yourself-

"Are you done?"

You blinked at him in confusion. What?

"What?"

Silas looked past you at his grandma before looking down at you.

"I said, are you done? Have you gotten what you came here for?" He asked monotonously.

Wow. So does everyone have a stick up their ass in high society?

You narrowed your eyes at him. "And what exactly would that be?"

His expression didnt change. "Jewels, cutlery, secrets, contacts, a rich man?"

"What makes you think I already dont have all of those things?"

He scoffed, giving you a look. "You stick out like a sore thumb. You're not part of the wealthy." Silas looked at the champagne glass in your hand before smirking.

"What now?" You seethed.

"Anyone with a taste for finer things in life knows not to hold the glass from the top. You hold it from the stem, so that you dont warm the drink from the heat of your palm." He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Stop pretending to be someone you're not."

You know you shouldnt have, you know that you're better than him academically by literally centuries, you know this is how all rich douchebags act, but you just couldnt let a self entitled brat insult you to your face and you've had enough of those in the past few eras.

You smiled. "I guess you would know who's pretending." Silas smirk faltered.

"Remind me if the FitzGeorges are still considered royalty or not?"

You watched his eyes set ablaze, his jaw tick but before he could respond, the sound of paper being ripped cut him off.

"Charles!" Sarah yelled at the young blonde who had just ripped the wrapping paper off your present.

"Nana! This one's from Lady Y/n! Look-!" He removed the lid from the box before Sarah could stop him and your heart dropped at the sight of the contents.

Its a painting.

Its a portrait. The portrait.

The one Baldwin had made. The one that Mehmed had gotten on his conquest. The one you forgot to destroy in the Ottoman empire.

And now its here. In 1860 London. How the hell did it survive over 700 years?

Sure its not as brand new as the last time you saw it, the paint is faded and varnish is gone, but the face- your smudged face is still there!

"This is ugly, right?" Charles remarked, only to be smacked on the head by Sarah.

"It is not! Its exquisite! Its one of a kind! Just like how Silas likes his things- unique!" Sarah looked at you smiling. "I'm sure there's a story behind this, right darling?"

Your throat went dry as you nodded slowly. "Y-yes." You cleared your throat, eyes fixated on the portrait. "The owner told me that this belonged to the Turkish empire once, and um... one of the princes of the time had gotten it as a part of his loot from the conquest."

"But who's the broad-" Charles cut off his words as Sarah glared at him. "I mean- who's pretty lady in the painting?"

"She's... unknown. I only know that this was commissioned by her lover. Also, he was insane apparently." Sorry Baldwin, but you were insane.

Sarah clasped her hands over her heart, touched. "Ah! Painting by a man madly in love of his beloved! How romantic! I will have this hung up in our hallway with the rest of the paintings!"

You shake your head. "Oh, I dont think it'll go with your style-"

"Of course it will! Its a symbol of love, of devotion. Just like me and my Georgie. Just like how I wish for Silas to experience it one day." Sarah smiled at Silas.

"Yes, the day when Silas will be bitten by a rabid dog." Charles snickered only to have his ear twisted by Sarah as she began dragging him away, saying that she will tell his father of his behaviour tonight.

Without much to say, you left shortly after, bidding Silas's cousins goodbye and not bothering with Silas who was glaring daggers at you.

-

"You said what to Silas?" Liam asked as he returned from his patrolling. "I cant believe it. He is a part of royalty, maybe not directly but still!"

"He started it first." You pouted as Benjamin chuckled behind you, undoing your updo.

"Yes, but he was right to call you out. I mean, who holds the flute from the top?" Shepherd asked, sitting down as he handed Liam a drink.

You narrowed your eyes. "Well, I'm sorry that I'm not an obnoxious, rich, raging alcoholic!"

All of them chuckled as Colin sat down with a lazy smile, nursing his drink.

"You did good work tonight, Y/n." He raised the glass to you before downing his drink. You perked up. "So this means I'm getting paid with a bonus?"

He chuckled and gave you a nod. "Of course, but first- we'll need to write articles."

"We?" He nodded. "Yes. We. You will work on the FitzGeorge article for me, and write mostly good things about them so it gets published. I, will be working on the Dickens exposé along with the other secrets you've been able to get tonight. This way, when your FitzGeorge article gets published, you will get even closer to the family and the publisher will finally let me post the dirty secrets of high society! Its a win-win, really."

You leaned forward. "You make it sound so simple but while I may have been allowed to personally interview these people- that too, under the guise of not being associated with the paper, I dont think I will be allowed to work at your newspaper without being called out as your source and then none of these rich snobs will ever let me be close." You leaned back, letting Benjamin massage the knots out of your head. "The reason why Sarah even let me interview her was because I told her I wanted to promote the arts, starting with ballet. She thinks I write for the girls fraternity houses, like some sort of school project. Not a major publishing house!"

Colin rubbed his chin before snapping his finger. "I got it!" He grinned as he leaned forward. "You can write two stories! One- about your interview with Sarah! And it'll be under your name and we'll spread it around actual girl hostels, to make it seem legitamate when someone from the FitzGeorge house gets it. Doesnt matter if it'll do well or not, because you'll only sing her praises and this will make you well liked by Sarah and make her invite you to more events. And the other story, will be about the FitzGeorge estranged family relations with the Queen! Now that will get us more readers and the editor will be happy to publish it too! As for how you will actually write it- well, how would you like to be a boy?"

Everyone stared at Colin, as if he'd grown two heads.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, how would you like to be a boy?"

-

"If I wasnt sent to an asylum before, I'd definitely be sent to one now." You stated as Colin adjusted your bowtie.

"Only if you get caught!" He gave you a cheeky grin before shaking his head. "Which wont happen! I wont let you get caught."

"Now, turn." Benjamin said making you face him. He smiled as he placed a fake moustache on you. "Colin, you really are testing my skills these days. I mean, making Y/n a man? With a moustache? And styling her hair, even though it would've made everything so much easier if someone would just let me cut their hair-" you glared at him. "Okay, okay. No chopping off your hair. Jesus, what's with the death glare?"

"You're worried about the death glare? I'm worried why Liam was so pissed about being the only one whose clothes fit Y/n. I guess he always thought that being a copper meant he way more buff than he actually is." Colin commented. "Despite his lean built, he's surprisingly strong. Did you see the way he flipped over that thief?"

Benjamin nodded, combing your moustache.

"You're a very gorgeous male! Very demure." Colin grins before giving you some brief instructions on how to keep your cover and act manly.

"Right- so what name did you pick for your story?"

The corner of your mouth quirked up slightly.

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes." What? Arthur Conan Doyle is probably just an year old right now. Its not gonna affect anyone if you chose one of your favourite characters names.

Plus, you're going to be an investigative journalist. So, it fits well, okay?

"Lets go, Mr Holmes."

-

With Colin's reference, you're able to get a job at the paper. And with your people watching hobby, you're able to successfully pass of as a man, a pretty man- but a man, nonetheless.

You've been hit on by a few women on the streets.

After working here for a few weeks, you finally get paid when the editor publishes your work on the FitzGeorge. You wrote mostly about Sarah and the FitzGeorge family relations with Queen Victoria, and just a few tantalising words about Silas that would have the readers waiting impatiently for the next update on the bachelor, thereby garnering more attention and you- more money, which you need to buy your time machine back.

You're sitting at your desk, typing down your next article when there's a commotion in the office.

"The boss is here! The boss is here!" Everyone rushed to do their respective tasks, or at least- look busy, do nothing. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the owner of the paper walking down the hallway, talking to-

Silas.

Silas was walking beside him, looking uninterested as he listened to his friend explaining how he operated his news agency. He gave a lookover to the cubicles before moving on. For a second, you thought he's seen you. But you were hiding behind other men, there was no way he'd spotted you.

Oh no. Is he here because he'd figured out you were the one who wrote the article in the paper? No, no- he couldnt have-

Fortunately for you, he hadnt. Silas was there because his friend, the owner, had invited him to show his newspaper agency.

With the weight off your shoulders and your pay in your pocket, you were back at the antique shop.

"You got the 1000 pounds?" You cursed mentally when you heard his agitating voice.

"Mr Blackwood, I have 3 pounds-" He cut you off with booming laughter. "Ah, poor people crack me up."

Resisting the urge to strangle him, you cleared your throat. "If you could just give me a real figure, an acceptable deal, I would like to buy my own property back."

He rested his head on his palm, leaning on the cash counter. "Now what's so special about it, hm? Because I cant seem to figure out what it even is?"

"Its nothing...." You remark before sighing. "Its a toy. It holds sentimental value."

He tilted his head. "Does it now?"

You nod.

He smiled, though something else swirled in those mischevous eyes. "Alright, I'll give you a deal." You prepare yourself. "I'll give your toy back if.... you go out on a date with me."

You narrowed your eyes. "I am not sleeping with you, Mr Blackwood-"

"And why would I do that to myself?" He raised a brow. "All I'm asking for is one date, a lovely dinner that I'll be paying for and then we can return to the shop and you can have your toy back."

You pondered over his offer, trying to figure out any traps.

"Why do you want to date me? I'm poor, like you said."

He shrugged. "Maybe I find you intriguing." He leaned forward on the counter again, wiggling his brows. "Come on, its just one date. No funny business, I promise."

You stared at him for a few more minutes before nodding. "Fine. But I get to pick the place and I will have you know that I have friends all over that will be looking for me if something were to happen."

He smirks at your attempt to threaten him. "I think we both know that I could get away with it all, love. All while making your friends disappear if I wanted to."

The way he stated it like it was true- it sent a chill down your spine.

Mr Blackwood waved to you. "See you tomorrow at 6, darling! Dont be late."

-

The next night, Colin had dropped you off at the antique store, telling Mr Blackwood- or Henry, as he insisted you called him, to bring you back before 10 pm.

You sat across from him in a fancy restraunt.

"I'll have a beef wellington and for the lady-" Henry looked at you.

"Just chips." You closed the menu, handing it back to the waiter. Henry chuckled, shaking his head.

"So... whats your deal?" You ask him, resting your elbows on the table.

He leaned in as well, dual coloured eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement. "I'm resourceful. You?"

"Cut the crap. Why am I here?" You glare at him, and he chuckled, resting his head on his palm. "I like you."

"As anyone with eyes should, but also why would you do that to yourself?" You huffed as you move away, resting against the chair as you crossed your arms over your chest.

He copied your actions, resting his arms against his chest. "Maybe I want to fall in love with you."

"I'd rather poke my eyes out." You snarked. Henry looked at the cutlery on the table. "There's the fork."

Your nostrils flared. "You think you're so clever?"

"Oh I know I'm clever, love. But it is truly remarkable it took you so long to figure it out." He grinned cheekily. "Alright alright. Ask your question."

"How do you know the FitzGeorges?"

He looked rather bored at your question. "I know everyone." Seeing your dissatisfaction, he offered you another answer. "I'm rich. They're rich. We socialised."

Thats how rest of the dinner was spent- you interrogating him, him dodging you with vague answers. Though you had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, almost like he could read you like an open book.

Finally, the night came to an end as you saw his store come up in view.

At the end of the street, just a few shops down from his, you stopped and looked at him. "Well, this was a... date." He chuckled as you continued unphased. "I held up my end of the deal, now its your turn."

Henry nodded, grabbing your hand in his warm one, thumbing your knuckles. "Of course. I'm a man of my word." He brought your hand upto his lips, pressing a soft kiss.

"I hope you get home safely, darling."

You made a disgusted face, yanking your hand from his grasps as you wiped his kiss off with your coat. "I hope I never see you again."

He chuckled, throwing his head back. "Oh I think I'll be seeing you again rather soon, love. I enjoyed our date too much." Seeing you pissed made him laugh again, and he nodded his head at the store.

"Come along. Lets get you your toy-" He was cut off by the sound of a loud blast, the shockwaves so powerful that it made the glass of all windows in a mile shatter, the ground shook. In a second, Henry lunged at you, covering your body with his as another blast went off. Moments later, he got off you and you finally saw his shop set ablaze and completely destroyed.

Your ears rung as you stared at the fire in the shop, not noticing the people rushing out of their homes, not hearing the screams of shock, not hearing Henry calling your name.

"Y/n?! Y/N?!" He shook you by the shoulders hard, finally making you look at him. He was saying something, but you couldnt understand what. You looked at him confused, before your eyes shifted back to the fire.

You dont know when Colin came, you dont remember when Henry pushed you into his arms, yelling at Colin to get you out of there. You dont know when you got home, you dont know what the boys were asking as they picked out bits of glass from your skin.

All you know is when you woke up the next morning and stared at your bandaged skin, events of last night flashed through your head again and the realisation became the painful truth-

The time machine is destroyed.

-

You're staring at the tea cup, the beverage swirling as the maid added sugar in it.

Round. Round. Whirlpool. And then... everything settles.

The motion of the tea perfectly depicted how your life has been for some time. Thrown around in a hurricane of calamities, from one era to another, your life coming close to an end just like the tea threatened to spill over the edge, before everything settles down. Like your plans of ever returning home- stopped.

You'd returned to the sight of the incident, a part of you holding on to the hope that maybe- just maybe, your time machine survived.

It hadnt. Nothing in that store had. Henry Blackwood ran around the store, his face hardened and his collected faccacde was long gone, replaced with frowns and wrinkles. His store was surrounded by coppers and what you could only assume were either detectives or insurance guys.

After the devastating realisation, you had sort of went into a depressive spiral. Lying in your bed for days, your pillow stained with tears, Colin promising to replace whatever it is that you lost as Benjamin petted your hair, inconsolable.

A few weeks later, you returned to work. Though nothing interested you anymore, you felt like you were living on borrowed time, that any moment now, you'll face the consequences of screwing around with history and either die or possibly destroy the universe.

"Y/n?" You blinked, coming back to reality.

Sarah was sitting across from you, her face concerned as she set her tea cup down. "Darling, are you okay?"

You tried to smile, but your facial muscles didnt cooperate.

"Yes. Just... a bit tired." You diverted your eyes as you brought the cup up to your lips.

Sarah's brows furrowed even more, but she could see you were hesitant to talk about the subject.

"I called you here today to congratulate you on your article!" You looked up at her, staring at her a bit dazed. "The interview was very well received with not only just people in my circle, but female students all over in London as well!"

Sarah continued to sing your praises, while you kept your head down, offering little hums here and there.

"Even my family, who I hadnt talked to in a while, told me that they adored the way you wrote-" Your heart cracked.

Family. Mom. Dad. Qasim. I'll never see them again. They wont find out what happened to me, probably hoping that I'm missing but... alive at least. Forever holding onto that painful hope, that I may return home one day.

But I wont. I cant.

You stood outside the FitzGeorge house, under the pillars as you watched the rain fall.

"I think you should stay until-" Sarah offered, eyes looking at the sky that was pouring like cats and dogs.

"I need to go home. Thank you." You tried to smile again, but your eyes betrayed you, shinning with tears. But you left before she could say another word.

Your bones could feel the cold rain biting, your dress drenched, your socks uncomfortably wet, the tip of your nose chilled, your hair sticking to your skin, but none of it mattered. Not when you needed the same rain to hide your tears.

Your neck muscles strained as they tried to contain your sobs, your grief.

I messed up. I screwed up everything. This is all my fault.

You walked faster out of the estate, the water splashing as you stormed away, trying to find some corner where you can hide away and cry your heart out.

I'm alone. I'm all alone. I have no one. No home, no family.

You struggled to breathe, feeling like your chest was caving in.

What have I done?

In your haste, you didnt see the carriage coming straight towards you, until someone yanked you out of the way by your arm.

"Are you blind?! Or deaf-" Silas stopped his scolding as he stared at your red eyes, your wobbling lips. He loosened the painful grip on your arm, his eyes still staring into your crying ones.

Silently, he pulled you back towards the estate, though he didnt take you inside. He had a feeling you didnt want his grandmother pestering you with questions right now.

An arm around your shoulders, Silas lead towards the botanical garden house.

He helped you sit on one of the benches as the dark clouds seemed to veil the garden house, giving you two privacy. He sat down next to you.

"What happened?"

Silas watched your face screwed up in pain as you bring a hand to your temples, your lips quivering as you sniffled.

"I lost... everything."

After a few moments of silence, before sighing.

"You've only lost when you give up. Have you given up?"

You turned your head to the side, looking at his serious face.

"Yes."

He took another deep breath.

"Can you do anything about it?"

"No."

He glanced at you before looking back at the clouds.

"Do you want to die?"

You stopped for a moment. Do I? Do I want to die?

"Maybe."

"Thats not an answer." He raised a brow at you. "How about this- until you find a definitive answer to that question, you keep on living?"

Seeing your dead stare, he continued. "Look, if the worse has already happened to you, you have nothing left to fear anymore. In fact-" Silas went on to say similar motivating stuff for the next 20 miuntes, and you were simultaneously listening and not listening. Well, you heard what he was saying, you just didnt bother processing it because your mind was preoccupied by your own monologue.

He's right. The worse has already happened. I have lost the machine. I have lost my only way home. I have screwed up history. And yet, I'm alive.

Yes. This is what the universe wants- to see me down on my butt, laughing at my misery.

Well, guess what? Fuck this, fuck the universe! I'm been so careful only to barely survive. Now? I'm gonna live and I dont care what chaos it'll cause!

"Y/n?" You looked at Silas, who looked at you expectantly. "I asked you a question."

"What?"

His shoulders slumped.

"I said- will you marry me? And before you say no-"

"Okay."

Watch this, universe. Its my turn now.

So???? Thoughts???? Comments and asks???

Part 12 is here!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 13

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 12

Robin calls the Harrington house twenty-three times that night; no one answers. She gets desperate enough as she paces the length of her living room waiting for the phone to ring, that she asks her dad for the phone book, hands shaking as she looks for Munson. It’s unlisted, of course.

She thinks about looking up Jeff, but to her embarrassment, can’t think of his last name.

She’s too nervous to look for “Cunningham,” afraid equally that she’ll answer and not have seen Steve, or that she won’t answer at all. 

She calls Steve’s house again; he doesn’t pick up.

She’s tired enough the next morning to be tempted to stay home sick, but she drags herself out to the bus anyway, too worried about Steve to miss a chance at seeing him. He’s not there, but she doesn’t want to walk home, and there’s no bus back to her house until the end of the day.

Plus, there’s Chrissy and Jeff, who might know something she doesn’t. They’d been at Steve’s side before her; he might call one of them where he wouldn’t pick up for her, no matter how much that thought burns.

She catches Chrissy between sixth and seventh period, snags her wrist and drags her into the girl’s bathroom—is this her thing now? Please don’t let it be her thing.

“Robin?” Chrissy asks, eyes big and worried in her face once Robin’s dutifully checked all the stalls for eavesdroppers before turning back to Chrissy and letting the whole situation pour out of her mouth.

It goes something like this: “Jason, he—with Eddie, you know?” she says, raking her hands through her hair as she begins pacing the bathroom. “And then I told Steve, and maybe I shouldn’t have? Because he’s not here today! What if he—and it’s my fault!”

Chrissy snags Robin’s wrist, and her whole brain goes quiet as she stops suddenly enough that her sneakers squeak against the dirty linoleum.

“Slow down,” Chrissy demands, grip hard on Robin’s wrist as she uses it to turn her around to face Chrissy once more. “Start from the beginning. What did Jason do?”

Robin’s breath shudders—that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What did Jason do? But Chrissy’s staring her down, so Robin takes a few deep breaths, and starts again.

“Jason followed Eddie’s van out of the school, and I told Steve,” she says all in one breath, hoping Chrissy can understand her. “And now neither of them are in school.”

Chrissy’s frowning at her, and Robin’s gut curdles at the look.

Like she always does when she’s nervous and there’s a lull in a conversation, she just keeps talking. “Do you think he did something to them?” she asks, bringing her free hand up to her lips to bite the nails there. “Steve could take him, right?”

Chrissy doesn’t answer, brow furrowed, eyes hard. Before Robin can babble herself into another freak-out, Chrissy turns on her heel and walks out of the bathroom, dragging Robin along by the hold she has on her wrist.

“Where are we going?” Robin whispers, glancing around the empty hallway like Principal Higgins will jump out of a shadowy corner and slap them with expulsion charges.

Chrissy doesn’t answer. Before Robin can work herself into a tizzy over the silence, Chrissy stops in front of one of the closed classroom doors and knocks before pulling it open.

Robin freezes, eyes wide as she ducks down to hide behind Chrissy.

“Hi, Mr. Mundy!” she says cheerfully. “Sorry for the interruption, but can I borrow Jason for just a minute?”

“What the fuck!” Robin whispers, staring at the back of Chrissy’s head, waiting for Mr. Mundy to call them on their bullshit.

The thing is, it works. Mr. Mundy sends Jason out without any follow-up questions—is this what it’s like to be head cheerleader?

For his part, Jason’s smiling like butter wouldn’t melt as he closes the classroom door softly behind him.

“Hey, Chris. What’s up?” he asks, smile only dropping as he catches sight of Robin peeking out from behind her. “Who’s your friend?”

“What did you do to Steve and Eddie?” Chrissy demands, voice firm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, all levity having fled from his face.

Chrissy scoffs, finally dropping her hold on Robin’s wrist to plant her hands on her own hips. “I know you followed Eddie after school yesterday,” she replies, taking a threatening step forward. Determined to support her, Robin finally stands up straight, crossing her arms and glaring, hoping Jason doesn’t notice how her hands are shaking. “And I know Steve followed you both, and now no one’s seen either of them all day.”

She jabs Jason in the chest, hard enough that he stumbles back a bit as she asks, “what did you do?” She’s at least four inches shorter than him, but suddenly, she seems larger than life. Because Jason? He grimaces, cringing into the classroom’s door like she’s a threat.

Robin’s traitorous heart rata-tat-tat-tat’s in her chest.

“Okay!” he whispers, hands outstretched, looking furtively around himself for witnesses. “I didn’t touch Harrington.”

He sneers Steve’s name like it’s a curse. It rubs Robin all wrong, and by the way Chrissy takes another threatening step toward him, it must hit her the same.

“I didn’t!” Jason says, putting his hands up toward them as if to prove he’s weaponless. Robin knows better. “But Munson got what was coming to him.”

He’s got that same hard look in his eyes as when he’d followed Eddie in the first place. Robin shudders, imagining all the ways that hate could be turned on Eddie’s vulnerable body. She doesn’t know him well, but Steve cares about him, and no one deserves something like this.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Chrissy asks again, teeth gritted as she grunts out each word.

“You should be thanking me!” he sneers, looking down on her in a way that makes Robin furious. “I heard you talking in the library.”

Robin shoots a look at Chrissy and sees surprise on her face, but not confusion. Whatever this is about, she already knows about it.

“You went after Eddie because he was going to ask me out?” she demands, more furious than Robin’s ever seen her. Her hair’s damn-near flying, and she looks like Medusa more than her usual cheerleader archetype. Robin only falls harder as she jabs her pointer finger into Jason’s chest and asks, “what did you do to him?”

Jason takes another step back, smacking his head into the door behind him. “I just roughed him up a bit!” he whispers, eyes still wide. “Your new boyfriend’s fine. For now.”

And he’s back to snarling, a feral dog off its leash. Chrissy doesn’t back down. She shores her shoulders up, spine straight, chin tilted up as she replies, “if you touch either of them again, I’ll kill you.”

She sounds so serious that for a second, Robin believes her. By the way Jason’s Adam’s apple bobs, he does too.

Without another word, Chrissy turns on her heel and strides away. Robin scrambles after her, looking back at Jason every couple steps to make sure he doesn’t pull anything.

When they turn the corner and he’s out of sight, Robin takes a few running steps forward to walk beside Chrissy. “Now what?” she asks.

“Now, we wait,” she replies, head still held at that royal angle that makes her throat look even longer than normal. “And once class ends, Jeff and I will go to band practice. Unless he’s dead, there’s no way he won’t show up.”

Robin bites her lip. “What if he doesn’t show?” Robin asks.

“He will,” Chrissy says, an implied or else left dangling at the end of her statement. “But if he doesn’t, we’ll show up at his house and check on him.”

Robin stews, something bitter and afraid churning in her stomach as Chrissy walks on, damn-near forgetting her entirely. As if she wasn’t the one to tell Chrissy that something was even wrong. As if she wasn’t friends with Steve, too.

But she knows when Chrissy uses the word “we,” it doesn’t mean Robin. So, she says, “if you find Steve, could you ask him to call me?”

Chrissy stops in the middle of the hallway, turning to Robin with a furrowed brow. Robin feels her heartbeat ratchet up again, blood pooling into her cheeks. “Or, maybe you could call me? If he can’t, or if you don’t find him, or if he’s busy.”

Chrissy’s still just staring—Robin bites her lip against all the words that want to come out. “I’m just worried,” she rushes out, unable to abide by the quiet.

“I don’t have your number.”

“Oh!” Robin replies. “Uh—”

All higher brain functions having fled at the soft look in Chrissy’s eyes, Robin frantically feels around in her backpack for a pen. Then somehow, inexplicably, she’s writing her phone number on Chrissy’s bare forearm, marking up that creamy white flesh with her messy handwriting.

Her skin’s warm beneath the shaking hand Robin’s using to hold her forearm steady. Robin’s cheeks could start a forest fire as she dots the i on her own name as she writes it above her phone number—as if Chrissy will ever forget this uncomfortable moment.

Robin holds onto her a second longer than necessary—looking down at her own marks on Chrissy’s skin before she drops it abruptly. Chrissy keeps it in the air for a moment before letting her arm swing back to her side.

“Thanks, Robin,” she says, and when Robin finally looks up at her, she’s smiling, none the wiser to the big gay moment Robin was just having. “I’ll make sure he calls you.”

“Uh, yeah!” Robin squeaks. “Thanks. Thank you?”

Chrissy laughs, finally turning around and making her way to her next class. “Bye, Robin.”

“Bye!” Robin calls.

Steve better call her, and soon. Screw Eddie, she’s got a whole lot to unpack here, and no one else to do it with.

***

Eddie’s already ten minutes late to band practice; so is Steve.

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!” Jeff says, all heated as he paces Gareth’s garage.

“Didn’t he get too high last Monday, and not go to school because he thought it was Sunday?” Chrissy asks, trying to cheer everyone up.

It doesn’t work.

She’s not any better. She’d been so sure that no matter what had happened, Eddie would come to band practice. Jeff had agreed when she’d caught him up on the situation, so here they are, stewing in anxiety the longer the clock ticks on.

Still, she’s a little charmed by the way Eddie’s entire band is crumbling without him—does he even know how integral he is?

“That’s school, though,” Gareth replies, twirling one of his drumsticks nervously between his fingers as he stares at the open garage door like Eddie will walk through any second. “He cares about the band.”

Behind him, Doug nods his support, clutching onto the strings of his instrument hard enough that she’s surprised they haven’t snapped. It’s sweet, really, the way they all care, but no matter what all the boys around her seem to think, Eddie couldn’t be punctual with a watch strapped to both his wrists and each of his ankles for good measure.

She’s his friend, but faultless, the boy is not.

Still, Jeff’s eyebrows are all pinched, and this practice is dead on arrival so she asks, “why don’t we wait a few minutes to make sure we don’t just miss him, and then I can drive you over to check on him?” while looking Jeff’s way.

After token protests from Doug and Gareth, waylaid by Jeff’s promise to call after, they wait a long five minutes before she corrals him into the passenger seat of her car and heads toward the trailer park. In deference to Jeff’s dour mood, she turns her Blondie tape on low.

But, she’s still in the car with the man of her dreams, so she reaches over the center console and settles her palm on his thigh with a squeeze. Jeff places his own hand over hers squeezing her fingers but otherwise not protesting.

She could’ve never done any of this with Jason, who found even the most minor of things emasculating. He would’ve rather walked than let her drive him somewhere, much less put her hand on his thigh. It was his job to put his hand on her thigh, didn’t she know?

Chrissy finds she likes it this way a lot better. She likes driving Jeff home from school after Hellfire, she likes carrying his books sometimes when she can get away with it.

She likes that he lets her.

It’s not a long drive—Jeff leaps out of her car almost before it’s in park, and Chrissy scrambles to keep up.

Jeff doesn’t even knock, just opens the door. Chrissy hesitates on the threshold, her mother’s teachings squirming within her at showing up uninvited, empty-handed, barging in.

But then Jeff inhales sharply and asks, “did Carver do all that?” and all thoughts of propriety fly right out of her head.

She steps through the open front door, shutting it gently behind her. Only then does she peer around Jeff’s shoulders. Eddie’s curled up on the couch, a bag of peas pressed to his bruised face, lip split straight down the middle.

He waves, smiling lazily like nothing’s wrong at all. “Come to join the party?”

As if to punctuate Eddie’s absurd question, a door opens and suddenly, there Steve is, looking unhurt, if a bit tired. He stops right outside the door, eyes widening as he catches sight of them. “Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his head, cheeks tinting red with what looks like embarrassment. “Hey.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asks, an echo of Jeff’s own words, gaze still trained on Steve.

Eddie scoffs, drawing her line of sight back to him just to watch him somehow curling himself into an even smaller ball before hissing like it hurts and straightening back up.

“You’re boyfriend got me,” he replies, something mean in his voice.

Chrissy looks at Jeff first, eyes wide before she remembers: she’s supposed to be dating Steve. For his part, Steve looks uncomfortable where he’s loitering across the trailer.

“What?” Chrissy squeaks out, smacking her hand over her mouth in shock. “Steve wouldn’t—”

Eddie stands suddenly enough that Chrissy stops talking without prompting. He throws his hands up in exasperation, dropping them immediately to clutch at his ribs. “Not that one,” he cries, voice cracking with pain.

Chrissy’s fingers are tingling. She bunches them up at her sides, a thread of violence coursing through her voice as she says, “Oh, right. Jason.”

Eddie scoffs, wincing again as his split lip drips down his chin.

Jeff, clearly fed up with watching his best friend inflict further pain on himself, rushes forward and pulls up Eddie’s shirt, prying his fingers off when he tries to hold it down. There’s a big, purpling bruise along the line of his ribs, another smaller one lower on his stomach.

Finally succeeding in slapping Jeff’s hands away, Eddie slumps back into the couch, pouting up at Jeff like this is all just a joke. Like he’s not black and blue. “Stop it, prince charming over there already took care of it.” He throws a careless thumb over his shoulder at Steve. “Not the knight in shining armor I would’ve chosen.”

This, he directs toward Chrissy, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously at her. Behind him, Steve’s recently-flushed cheeks drain to an off-white as the comment lands. He shuffles into the living room proper, slumping down on the couch as far away from Eddie as he can, entire body pointed away like that’ll keep him from being notice. 

Her hands clench harder.

She’s never been a violent person, but seeing that look on her best friend’s face makes her desperate, suddenly, for a target she could actually hit. But it’s Eddie inflicting the pain—stupid, sweet Eddie who doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Jeff sighs.

“Um,” is all she gets out, voice high with discomfort.

There’s a sitcom concept here somewhere: a cheerleader trapped in an enclosed space with her boyfriend, the boy she’s pretending to date who likes the boy who likes her, because she’s pretending to in order to protect the boy who likes him. Oh yeah, and her ex-boyfriend beat up the boy who likes her who she’s pretending to like.

It’s muddled enough they’d need a diagram for the pitch meeting just to have a chance of keeping it all straight.

Eddie’s still looking at her, big cow eyes all wide and earnest, so she says, “I’m sorry?” and he laughs.

“It’s not your fault your ex-boyfriend is the worst person alive.”

Jeff snorts, but the moment of levity drops when Eddie continues with a muttered, “not that your taste has improved much.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy cuts in, voice dangerous as she looks past him to her best friend’s drooping expression. 

“Sorry!” Eddie replies, throwing his hands in the air as he smiles up at her. “But I would kick myself for years if I didn’t take my shot.”

And with that, Eddie gets up off the couch; it looks painful, he grimaces as his ribs straighten and clutches at his wrist. Steve partially raises from his seat, arms open like he might have to catch Eddie. But Eddie makes it up from his seat, and is out of the room in seconds.

Steve slumps down into the couch, and Chrissy burns—at Jason, at Eddie, at the whole goddamn world for the look on his face.

It gets worse when Eddie reenters the room because there, clutched in his hand, is a familiar style of folded letter with a familiar script on it, but instead of Secret Admirer, it just says Chrissy.

“I was going to just leave this for you,” Eddie says, smiling sheepishly as he holds it out to her, “but Carver waylaid my plans so.”

Eddie shrugs before wincing and lowering his shoulders. He shakes the letter at her again, still inexplicably smiling, as if Jeff hasn’t gone stiff beside her, and Steve hasn’t withered away enough to damn-near disappear

Chrissy takes the letter.

Chrissy,

I’m sorry for not being up front with you. I was just afraid, but not anymore. I don’t want you to think you’re not good enough for me because baby, you’re everything. Every word you write on the page means everything to me. You have to know that.

I can’t imagine this year without you in it. You’ve brightened my days far more than you could ever know. I want the chance to do the same for you. I want to get you flowers, and show up at your door with my hair combed just right. I want to hold your hand at the drive-in.

If you want that, too, I’ll pick you up this Friday. They’re showing Romancing the Stone, my treat.

Hopefully Yours,

Eddie

P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

It’s devastating. Chrissy’s eyes trace the page, brain ticking away against a problem with no solution. It’s not fair to say yes, not when it’s not just her heart on the line, but all four of them, primed for breaking.

She doesn’t look up at Steve, can’t bear to see whatever’s on his face.

“Obviously you were supposed to find the letter in the atlas,” Eddie says, and when she looks up at him, he’s got a piece of hair held up over his own lips, face gone a light pink with an embarrassed blush. “But this is me asking if—if you want to go out. With me. To the drive-in?”

Chrissy swallows, throat suddenly dry, unable to find the words to fix this. The longer the silence goes on, the wider and wetter his eyes get. She feels like the hunter who shot Bambi. She has to say something.

“She didn’t write the secret admirer letters.” Steve’s voice rings out, sure and steely, through the trailer. Eddie sits up straighter, eyes still trained on her. She barely notices, gaze stuck to Steve, whose face has gone somehow paler, and is tinged with a greenish hue, like he’s going to be sick.

“Steve—“ Chrissy starts.

“I did.”

PART 14

[chaoticace2005]

Why Vox needs to GET THE FUCK OVER THE RADIO DEMON:

(By Velvette, the only competent of the Vees)

(Her list for Valentino here)

1. He’s just not into you

2. We have better things to do than allocate company time to this.

3. He makes you look stupid

4a. He makes US look stupid (and Valentino already does that enough)

4b. Seriously how are we supposed to stop your boy toy from chasing whore around town when you can’t do the same with your ex? We need to set a (gag) good example for him.

5. What do you even see in him? Tacky coat. And that voice is so old-school.

6. You have two people who (reluctantly) want to work with you. Why spend energy on a guy who doesn’t?

7. This was seven years ago babe. Give it up.

8. I’m tired of finding your Alastor Body Pillow around the penthouse

9. Speaking of the body pillow, did you really have to spend 5k on it?

10. Company money should be used for COMPANY things. The fact we even have an “Alastor” budget is stupid. HE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ( @onesidedradiostatic )

11. He fucked off once, he probably will again.

12. Do you really want to fuck with someone who has the princess and king of Hell on his side?

13. It makes Valentino insecure about his sexual prowess, which is not good for anyone.

14. I have to LISTEN to him complain about it.

15. No matter how hard you try, nobody will ever beat “Susan” for #1 rival in that man’s heart. (Which is valid cause Susan SUCKS.)

16. Also you’re wasting company time by having Val put together shitty-Alastor look alike porns? Angel Dust does NOT look like Radio Demon ffs, I though Val was the blind one not you.

17. Your screens keep crapping out whenever you think about him, and we’re running out of ones in storage.

18a. I don’t want to keep having to go to overlord meetings for you because you’re having a breakdown over of he’ll be there or not.

18b. Speaking of breakdowns, STOP MAKING THE WHOLE CITY LOSE POWER.

19. You’ve taken over the entire office space with your Alastor-shrine. It’s not really an inconvenience, just creepy.

20a. Not to kinkshame but I walked in on you and Val fucking with Alastor-wigs on, REALLY?!

20b. Also I think you’re making Val insecure about his lack of hair.

21. STOP asking me to design Alastor-cosplay clothes for you. I don’t want anything to do with this.

22. I already have to deal with one pissbaby

23. Seriously, he isn’t into you. Maybe it’s cause you’re a mess. Maybe it’s cause he’s AROACE. Who knows.

24. You keep interrupting channels to brainwash people into hating the Radio Demon, when we should be brainwashing them into other things.

25. We can all hear you talking to yourself in the shower when trying to come up with shitty comebacks.

26. You display your dreams when you sleep, and while it was funny at first at this point it’s so boring. Val and I want to watch something actually interesting for once rather than the same shit.

27. You keep glitching out in bisexual whenever he comes up and it’s annoying waiting for you to put your shit back together again.

28. I’m sick of movie nights where we just watch your self-made compilations of “Alastor’s Epic Fails” or just watch security footage of him at the hotel.

29. Why do you even try and film him? Your shitty cameras can pick hardly anything up.

30. Honestly this whole thing is just pathetic.

31. Like it used to be cute but now?

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 4

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the door closed behind you, Bucky tried to ease the tension in the room. His hands gently held your shoulders as he guided you away from the heated encounter with Caroline, his voice a low murmur.

“You better fucking win the election, Bucky,” you spat, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Alright, alright,” he responded, trying to soothe you with a calm tone, though his own nerves were frayed.

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “You’ve kidnapped me, drugged me, and dragged me into this mess,” you said, each word laced with frustration.

“I’ll play my part as the good and loving wife for the cameras, but you…” You paused, making sure your words hit him hard. “You better do your job too. Be my fucking husband and defend me from your mother!”

Bucky was taken aback, not just by your words but by the clarity with which you spoke, despite the fury burning within you. He was impressed—here you were, holding your ground even when the world seemed to be collapsing around you.

“Cause of death by in-law is rare,” you added, your voice dripping with dark humor. “I’d volunteer to add to the numbers.”

A small, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I really like this humor. Unique,” he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. The gesture was meant to calm you, but there was something more behind it—a hint of admiration, maybe even respect.

Without another word, Bucky turned and walked back out, his mind already on the next confrontation—this time, with his mother.

Caroline was still seething, humiliated by how you had called out her feelings. She sat with a rigid posture, her face tense as Hazel carefully fixed her hair. Shawn, sensing the tension, silently poured whiskey into a glass and handed it to Julius.

“Put a leash on her,” Caroline spat at Bucky, her voice laced with anger.

Bucky sighed, frustration clear in his eyes. “Mother!”

His voice rose sharply, making everyone in the room flinch. “I want you to stop talking down to my wife.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “You two aren’t exactly husband and wife.”

“Maybe not to you,” Bucky shot back, his tone cold and firm. “But to me, she’s the only woman in my life.”

Her expression hardened, but Bucky continued, undeterred. “And I’ve told you before—I won’t do this election without her.”

Caroline’s hands clenched into fists. “So you’re going to blame me now?” She massaged her temples as if warding off a headache. “Is this the thanks I get after helping you reach this position?”

Bucky’s eyes blazed with controlled fury. “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you hadn’t tried to separate us.”

Caroline’s thoughts churned. She hated you, her daughter-in-law, from the very beginning. She had always wanted Bucky to marry someone from their own social circle, someone who matched their status. Separating you two had been a victory for her, but Bucky’s refusal to remarry was an unexpected blow.

And now, the truth was unraveling—he had never sent the divorce papers to the court. He had blackmailed the attorney into silence. Not just you, but the entire family had been kept in the dark. Caroline had never imagined that her favorite child would deceive her like this.

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze steady. “I could’ve had a son or daughter by now. Nate could’ve had a cousin. It would’ve created the perfect image.”

Caroline’s eyes filled with dramatic tears as the weight of his words hit her. She had never anticipated this level of defiance from her son.

Bucky’s expression softened only slightly as he watched his mother’s tears fall. “Mother,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “stop with the crocodile tears.”

Caroline’s tears abruptly ceased, her eyes rolling in exasperation.

Bucky, before turning to leave, fixed her with a final, stern look. “If you want to see me win, stop poisoning us with your venomous words.” With that, he closed the door behind him.

As he stepped out, he noticed you leaning against the table, arms crossed and a knowing look on your face.

“You’re too late,” you remarked dryly. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Bucky let out a small, tired smile. “Anything for you, babe.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car moved steadily along the dark streets, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you and Bucky in the backseat. The city lights blurred outside as you stared out the window, your reflection barely visible against the glass.

“Are you angry?” you finally asked, your voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Bucky turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “For what?”

“For witnessing me fight with your mom,” you clarified, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and uncertainty.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, his eyes briefly closing as if gathering his thoughts. “To make you feel better, I won’t blame you at all,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She had it coming.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “I’m so confused,” you admitted, your brow furrowing as you turned to face him. “What changed? You used to listen to her and do whatever she said without complaining.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he let out a long breath. “She’s the main reason why we separated.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart clench. The man sitting next to you was different—more reflective, more burdened by the past. It was as if the Bucky you once knew had been buried under years of silence and unspoken pain.

“You caught me by surprise when you quickly signed the divorce papers,” Bucky continued, his voice tinged with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders evident. “Back then, I took everything for granted. I was used to you being patient and supportive, no matter what.”

He paused, his eyes staring straight ahead, as if lost in a memory. “Having a mother like Caroline, who’s super ambitious, and a father like Julius, who’s quiet but just as driven—it’s exhausting. It drained me mentally. The only anchor I had in this world was you.”

His voice cracked slightly, and you saw his hand clench into a fist on his lap. “The second mistake I made was turning a blind eye and shutting my ears when it came to your feelings. As long as I provided for you, I thought you’d stay. But you didn’t.”

His words cut deep, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You had loved him so deeply, yet he had been so blind to your pain. You had been patient, supportive, always there for him, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. The loneliness you felt in the marriage, the constant pressure of living up to his family’s expectations, had finally broken you.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, looking away as your eyes stung with unshed tears. You turned your gaze back to the window, unable to face him.

Bucky chuckled softly, though the sound held no real amusement. He looked at you, his eyes tracing the curve of your profile, even though you refused to meet his gaze. You could hate him, kill him even, but at least you were here beside him. That was enough for now. He knew he could win you back—he had to, for his own sanity.

The upcoming election loomed over him like a dark cloud. Everyone knew that the Vice President was just a figurehead, an accessory to the real power, which was Steve. Bucky had this gut feeling they were going to win, that victory was within reach. But he also knew the price of that victory—he would have to stop thinking of himself and put the country first.

But before he lost the chance to be selfish, he was determined to use this time to get you back. He knew the methods he had used were wrong—manipulative and unfair.

But he needed you, desperately. The one thing you and Caroline had in common was persistence; once you made up your mind, no one could change it.

He had to try. Because losing you again wasn’t an option.

The car slowed as it approached your apartment building, and Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest. This was just the beginning—he knew that. But he was willing to do whatever it took, no matter how long it took, to win you back.

Even if it meant going to war with the one person he could never afford to lose.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next morning, Greg arrived at the apartment, his nerves evident in the way he hesitated at the door. He took a deep breath before stepping inside, where he found Bucky already awake, sipping coffee by the window. Bucky's demeanor was calm, yet his eyes held a storm just beneath the surface.

Greg tried to ease the tension with a light question. "So, how are you and the missus?"

Bucky's expression was unreadable as he replied, "Hanging on the cliff. While she’s waiting for me to fall."

Greg cleared his throat, a chill running down his spine at Bucky’s ominous words. He couldn't help but think that this situation was far more precarious than he had imagined.

Just then, you emerged from your room, fully dressed and determined. Your eyes lit up when you saw Greg. "Oh great, you’re here. I want to talk to you."

Greg straightened up, ready to listen. You didn’t waste any time, your tone sharp and to the point. "Everyone's bored if we keep talking about politics. We need to show something relatable."

"People love candid moments," Greg offered, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded, appreciating the idea. "Exactly. We need to create moments that make us look more human, more like them. A small argument over breakfast, a shared laugh, anything that shows we’re not just politicians."

Bucky listened silently, his face impassive, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes. He trusted you to handle this. You had a way of making people see what they wanted to see.

Greg, catching the subtle nod from Bucky, continued, "We could arrange some casual outings. Maybe a visit to a local diner, something low-key. Capture those moments and share them. It'll make people feel like they know you both personally."

Bucky finally spoke, his voice steady but with an edge of finality. "Whatever works. Just keep it natural. No over-the-top stunts."

You met Bucky’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. “We’ll make it work,” you said, confidence in your voice. “This will make people not just like us, but feel invested in us. They’ll want to see us succeed.”

Later, at the campaign headquarters, Steve approached Bucky, a rare smile on his face. “I’m impressed,” he admitted. “The way you and your wife have drawn the younger generation into this election—it’s brilliant.”

He never thought that you and Bucky could put your differences aside and make it work. From the outside, no one would know that the two of you had been separated for years. You both played the role of a married couple too well.

Bucky gave a slight nod, his eyes narrowing with the weight of the responsibility. “You can count on her.”

But the moment of pride was short-lived. Steve’s expression turned serious as he motioned for Bucky to follow him into his office. Once inside, Steve closed the door behind them. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Bucky, sensing the shift in tone, asked, “Bad news?”

Steve hesitated, then sighed. “Well… kinda. My team found a comment online that mentioned the divorce between you and her.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock. “How? Nobody knew except you and me.” He had only told Steve about the divorce that was never finalized.

Now, only the Secret Service, Greg, and Steve knew, and they had all sworn to keep it a secret. His family and the Rogers couple wouldn’t reveal it because it would damage their image.

“Did the comment get deleted?” Bucky asked, his voice tight with concern.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Steve reassured him. But then he paused, his voice dropping. “What if…?”

Bucky knew what he was hinting at and immediately dismissed the thought. “It can’t be her.”

Steve wasn’t so sure. “She thought she was divorced, traveling the world thinking she was single. She must have told someone.”

Bucky stayed quiet, his mind working through the possibilities. But outwardly, he remained calm. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “Well, if someone really knows, we’ll just have to wait. Sooner or later, that person will reveal themselves.”

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[whoreforsexymen]

SMUT | One-Liner Prompt List

Pairings: Anyone x Reader

Pronouns: Mix of GN!, Fem!Pronouns, etc. Will happily make any prompt request specific to your preferences 🤍

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!

Notes: Please feel free to send submissions using one or more of these!! 🤍 I can’t wait to see what characters, prompt combos, and ideas you guys come up with!!

Will be updating this list as I come up with more, or will be adding more parts. If you wanna see specifically themed prompt lists, lmk in my ask box!!!!

Will be creating a fluff list, too. Stay tuned 🤍

REQUEST/SUBMISSION INFO

1. “Stop looking at me like that or else I’m gonna cum too fast.”

2. “Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.”

3. “Ooh. The cat’s got claws~”

4. “No, no— Don’t let little ol’ me stop you.”

5. “No. Don’t take those off. Those stay on.”

6. “You didn’t seriously think I was gonna let you cum… Did you?”

7. “I’d rather watch you take something other than whiskey down your throat.” “Oh yeah? Like what?”

8. “Don’t mock me while I’m fucking you.”

9. “That’s a bold decision, considering how I’m balls deep in you right now.”

10. “Patience, love. Good girls/boys are patient.”

11. “Lousy manners won’t get you very far. Now. Try saying ‘please’?”

12. “I’d spank you but I think you’d enjoy it too much for it to be reprimanding.”

13. “It really is such a shame that you can’t tell me what you want with a mouth so full of my cock.”

14. “If you want my cock you’re gonna have to do a better job of convincing me.”

15. “Watch your tone. Don’t make me put you in your place.”

16. “Crawl.”

17. “Sorry, love, it’s hard to understand you with your face buried in the pillows like that.”

18. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

19. “Careful love, or I might just eat you alive before you can leave.”

20. “You’re just dripping, aren’t you? How bad are you aching for me to fuck you, huh?”

21. “Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.”

22. “Then I guess I’ll just fuck you up against the window, hmm? Make everybody watch. Since you clearly want an audience so bad, cause you can’t stay quiet.”

23. “You’re pretty demanding for a brat who’s done nothing to earn the right to make demands.”

24. “You talk such a big game for someone who can’t even put two words together when I’m fucking them.”

25. “If your eyes move from mine even once, I’m leaving. And I won’t come back. I’ll leave you here all alone. Aching. Begging.”

26. “You call that begging? Tsk tsk. You can do better than that.”

27. “You call that moaning? Tsk tsk. You can moan better than that.”

28. “You call that crawling? Tsk tsk. You can crawl better than that.”

29. “I won’t even consider fucking you unless you cum all over my boots first. Show me how bad you want it.”

30. “Lick it up.”

31. “Slow.”

32. “Easy.”

33. “Careful, little mouse. Keep talkin’ like that and I might just have to teach you a thing or two about respect.”

34. “That’s not nearly desperate enough.”

35. “Did I hear a please? My. You’re being so polite for once.”

36. “You’re being so obedient.”

37. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

38. “Don’t make me come over there.”

39. “I’m not pulling out. Want you full of my cum. Want to see that shit dripping out of you by the time I’m through with you.”

40. “So that’s why you had such an attitude, eh? Just needed a good fucking to pacify you?”

[hyperions-light]

I heard through the grapevine that people do not like Taash, which is bizarre to me, as I love Taash. So here’s a probably-expanding list of things to love about Taash!

1. They love animals so much!! The birds, guys! My heart melted <3

2. How kind and considerate they are to Karash, who needs someone to be gentle with him. They get that! They’re careful, and they warn both the Rivaini and their mother to be careful, too!

3. If you bring them to the Qunari in Treviso who is having a difficult time communicating, they will help them ;-;

4. How when they annotate the codex entries they always use footnotes ;-; because Shathann is an academic

5. How open-minded they are about stuff! They don’t automatically know everything, but they are always so willing to listen when someone explains things to them! They listen to Neve about Minrathous, even though it contradicts what they’ve been told; they listen to Davrin about working out, and Lucanis about the Crows.

6. How quick they are to admit their problems, listen, and apologize, if needed. It’s never frustrating to deal with Taash’s problems because as soon as you point out something’s wrong, they agree and are ready to handle it. It’s great!

7. It was really adorable when they tried to lie to Shathann about using their fire and they just… didn’t lol

8. They are sooooo sweet to their friends in the Lighthouse!! They always talk to everyone about whatever bad thing is happening, and they always offer to help fix it! I love that one dialogue where they insist to Bellara that her being upset about her brother is okay, and she should let the team help!! The way they express themselves is not always traditional, but it IS always considerate and well-meant!

9. Even though when Rook is recruiting them Shathann made the decision without their consent, Taash stops to reassure Rook that working with their team IS what Taash wanted. It’s really sweet <3

10. They are completely fine about Spite and treat Lucanis normally no matter what.

11. They love Shathann so much ;;;;;-;;;; I will write a whole post about it one day, but their relationship is soooo… it’s so real! I literally know people like this in real life, it’s written with so much attention to detail. And like even though they argue, and things can be difficult between them, Taash adores Shathann. There’s a reason almost every one of their outings involves her.

12. They are extremely knowledgeable in their areas of expertise! It’s fascinating to listen to them tell Lucanis how to lure out dragons, or Emmrich how to pick the right gems for his helmet. They are so confident !

13. The part where they yelled “the crows axe their regards” during battle almost made me die to the Antaam, I was laughing so hard

14. The fire-message they write themselves after the end of their arc thanks… Neve? I think ? For her help (will update this if I’m wrong)

15. They take everyone’s problems as seriously as they take their own. Even when other people miss it, they are the one to point out or affirm the importance of the emotional aspect of things (like during the Solas memories, when they call out that Solas regrets not speaking with Mythal again before she died)

Okay! More soon? Add, if you want!

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 12.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, rape and abuse, mentions of breeding, marking, nsfw, smut, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Minors do not interact.

Note: Took a while to finish this. I found the last part especially hard to write so I put it off for weeks. But voilá, it's finally here!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Axiety. It's what curses Katsuki's veins right now. After he left his mother at the war tent, he went ahead and took a look at his injured men. Some of them might never mount a dragon again. That already made him restless. He feels like ever since he became chief, things have gone bad. They need a win soon. His men can't lose morale. It won't benefit the tribe and they'll also maybe get some bad ideas. His mother stepped down as a chief voluntarily, but Katsuki is sure that the rest of the tribe would have forced her if she didn't. It's easy to blame the leadership when things go wrong. Even if some things are out of the chief's control.

That's when y/n crosses his mind. He has forgotten about her ever since Kirishima walked into his tent. Maybe she can be his win, a way to boost morale among his men and a way to strengthen his position. If y/n was to carry a healthy, happy baby, Katsuki and her could lead an example for the rest of the tribe. To show them that there is a future. After today's events, he's sure that he's making the right decision taking y/n on as a mate. He fully trusts her to become a good partner, a good mother. He'll do everything in his might to ensure the tribe's and y/n's future. She won't ever have to go back to the men who hunted her like an animal.

His heart feels heavy and full when he makes his way back to his tent. He can't wait to pull y/n into his arms, to feel her soft warm frame pressed against him. It's what he needs right now. 

Surely, y/n must have returned by now. She was angry earlier but he hasn't experienced y/n to hold a grudge for too long. Also, it's gotten dark and cold. That must've driven her back home as well.

When he enters his tent, it lies in darkness and silence. He stares into the black of the tent, listening expectantly. Y/n's not here. His heart starts to pump harder, blood cursing faster through his veins than just a few minutes ago. He can hear an unsettling whooshing in his ears. 

Y/n's gone.

It takes a moment for the realization to sink in. Then, he turns around on his feet exiting his tent swiftly. In front of the entrance, he stops in his tracks. His first instinct is to find Kirishima. Get him to assemble a search party, get everybody moving to find her.

It's a bad idea. He and y/n have to lead as an example. How can he prove to his men that they can find a mate outside of the tribe that loves and accepts them if his own mate runs off in the middle of the night? No, the others can't find out. Especially his mother. He can already see the triumph in her eyes telling him 'I've told you so'. He must find her alone.

But where could she possibly have gone to? She doesn't know anybody or anything around here. A cold chill runs down his back. She wouldn't have tried to leave, would she? That would be incredibly stupid of her. She can't survive in these mountains. Especially not without appropriate gear. But that didn't stop her before. 

Katsuki thinks back to when y/n took off the day after getting injured by these men with bows and arrows. Back then, she also was stupid enough to think that she could wander off in the forest on her own. And now she was angry, furious even. With heavy emotions like that clouding her logical thinking, it wouldn't surprise Katsuki if she got the bright idea of running off. He can already picture her angry, pouting face in his mind. 

Shit. He needs to find her. 

First of all, Katsuki tries to search the settlement inconspicuously just to make sure he's not setting off a false alarm. He's glad that most of the tribe already settled into their tents for the night. While he wanders through the settlement, he's getting more anxious with each passing second. Scenarios of y/n getting torn apart by a pack of wolves, of y/n falling down a hillside and other deadly things fill his inner eye.

When he can't find her in the settlement, he decides he must scout out the area surrounding the tribe's village of tents. Considering she's on foot, she can't have made it very far. In this darkness, she must've laid to rest somewhere. Tonight's new moon, so it's especially dark tonight. Out there, you can't see your hand infront of your own eyes. She must wait to continue her journey by sunrise.

It's best to look for her on the back of his dragon, he decides. He can cover more ground and the Drami's improved eyesight and smell will help them to find y/n quickly. So, he sets way to the stables. He already knows Drami won't be too happy about him waking her up. He walks quickly through the gore to the dragon's den. The other dragons ignore him, some bow their heads in respect. There's even the small green one that hasn't been tamed yet. It scurries away at the sight of Katsuki.

Only his torch illuminates the den upon entering. The dragons inside seem to be asleep. „Drami!“, he calls out to his dragon almost softly. He doesn't want to evoke the great red's rage. „Drami!“, he calls out again, this time a bit louder. Then, the big red dragon moves. It stretches its long hind legs and raises its heavy head.

„We need to find y/n, c'me on!“, Katsuki tells the dragon.

The dragon snarls at him and huffs hot air into his face. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

„Yeah, I know it's late. That's why we need to find her quickly.“, he points out.

The dragon stares at him intently. Katsuki is not sure what she's trying to tell him. „What?“, he asks shrugging. The dragon shifts again, lifting its heavy wing up, revealing y/n. Katsuki's eyes almost bulge out of his head. What on earth is she doing here? Almost at the same time, relief floods his veins. She's safe. When Katsuki wants to rush to the woman's side, a claw-studded paw cuts in between him and y/n. 

Katsuki's head jolts up. „What?“, he asks the dragon again. Drami looks angry now. A deep rumble curses through the dragon's throat. It snaps at Katsuki leaving behind a loud cracking sound when its upper and lower teeth clash against each other. Katsuki jumps back just in time to not get crushed in between the dragon's large jaw.

„Hey!“, he barks at the dragon, „What the fuck are you doin'?“

The dragon rises to its full height filling out the den completely. Y/n slides off its tummy and awakes in a rough manner. Disorientedly she looks around. Meanwhile, the dragon shifts into an intimidating stance looking angrily at Katsuki.

„What are you angry about?“, Katsuki yells grasping y/n's attention.

The dragon curls its tail around y/n in a protective manner. Katsuki doesn't fail to catch onto that.

„Is this about y/n? Fuck, it's not my fault that dumbass ran away?“, he defends himself in front of his dragon. Y/n awkwardly watches the scene in front of her. Somehow, she feels content. Seems as if the dragon is about to put Katsuki into his place. Good.

The dragon snaps at him again and Katsuki quickly moves out of its way. „Don't fuck with me, Drami. It's not funny! I didn't do anything!“, he yells at the dragon.

Suddenly, another rumble goes through the red dragon's throat and then there's electricity in the air. Katsuki's eyes widen. She's not about to...? Not in here! The fire would burn all of them. He can see an orange colour light up in the dragon's throat. Shit!, he thinks. Instinctively, he jumps over the dragon's tail and covers y/n's body with his own.

As quickly as the electricity becomes palpable in the air, as quickly it fades again. Y/n peeks through Katsuki's arms and sees the dragon staring at them intensely. Katsuki shifts, facing the dragon again. He sighs in relief. He absolutely believes Drami would go through with such an action. If a dragon doesn't deem a human worthy of their trust anymore, they more often than not kill them.

„You crazy fuck,“, he tells the dragon standing up and shaking his head. In return, the dragon growls at him

„I get it ok, I haven't been a good mate. I let her slip away.“, he continues. The dragon continues to stare at him angrily.

Katsuki raises his arms in defeat, then drops them again. „What do you want me to say? I didn't keep an eye on her. She could've died, yes. But she was safe with you, wasn't she?“

A rustling sound goes through the red's throat. It moves its head closer to Katsuki and presses its nose against his chest. Katsuki stares back with the same intensity. Then he sighs in defeat.

„Thank you for taking care of her. I'll be better, I promise.“, he tells her and the dragon gives him one more intense stare before settling into a laying position again. The smaller red dragons, which fled the bigger one the moment they sensed its anger, return to its side again.

Y/n doesn't know what Katsuki tells the dragon but it's clear he almost shits his pants. She finds that rather satisfying. Even if the red dragon almost fried her in the process. Quickly, she scrambles onto her feet. She must've fallen asleep somewhen but she's wide awake now.

Katsuki turns to her taking a long look at her. There doesn't seem to be a scratch on her. His instinct tells him to walk up to her, shake her and yell at her for being stupid. He can't believe she ran off and walked straight into dragon territory. She can be lucky Drami protected her. If she was unlucky, one of the other dragons could've seen a convenient snack in her that walked straight into their mouth. Considering what happened earlier, that's probably a bad idea though. Y/n was already pissed and it's better to reconcile than to argue. Especially, since Katsuki decided to ignore his mother's disapprovement. 

Katsuki walks up to y/n and takes her hand. He puts it over his heart and presses it softly. „Don't you dare leave again.“, he tells her. Then, more softly, he adds: „I need you. I was worried.“

Y/n looks up at him. At first, her face looks clueless as it usually does when she doesn't understand him. Then, she harshly pulls her hand away. She's still angry at him. Don't you think a few soft words will make me forget what has happened today, she thinks. 

Without looking at him, she stomps past him exiting the den. Katsuki swirls around and immediately catches up to her. Outside the den, he gets a hold of her wrist and pulls a bit too harshly. Y/n is swirled around. She stops herself inches in front of his chest. Quickly, she brings an arm's length distance between them, as far as her arm allows her to. Katsuki keeps a tight grip on her wrist.

„Where the fuck do you think, you're doing?“, Katsuki growls at her. Y/n looks at him with fire in her eyes.

„Let go of me, asshole!“, she yells at him pulling at her wrist. She doesn't care how loud she is or if she wakes up one of the dragons. How dare he act like this? Maybe a few days prior she would've mistaken Katsuki's attitude for concern, but knowing what she knows now, she's sure it's possessiveness. She can't stand that. Considering what Nadia says, that's all that women are in this place. She refuses to become Katsuki's possession, to let him push her around like that. He either accepts her as an equal or he doesn't get to have her at all.

Stunned, Katsuki lets go of her hand. He already notices some dragons shift in the darkness. Y/n crosses her arms in front of her chest. She doesn't really know where she's going with this. She doesn't want to argue with Katsuki. So far, he has been good to her. Today's been not good, but at the end of the line, he didn't treat her badly. The ceremony this morning went badly but Katsuki didn't lash out his anger at her, only at his furniture. While she doesn't understand where exactly his anger comes from, she shares the sentiment. 

It's been frustrating. Clearly, it's been frustrating to both of them and that Katsuki doesn't seem to have much control over his anger is something y/n noticed before. And despite what Nadia said, he didn't put his hands on her. He even wanted to protect her from the great red's fire. Y/n knows that if the dragon had gone through with it, Katsuki would've been burned to crisps. He was ready to sacrifice himself for her. Katsuki must value her more than he lets on.

Y/n sighs and rubs her face. She tries to calm herself. In contrast to Katsuki, she has more control over her anger. Katsuki watches her intently. He doesn't want to argue with her either. He's frustrated and worried and he doesn't know how to make y/n understand how important she is. To him. To his people.

He tries to take a step towards her when a growl and a pair of red glowing eyes appear right behind her. It's the small green dragon from earlier. Katsuki stops in his tracks. This dragon is untamed which means that it is unpredictable. 

„Don't move.“, he wispers and hopes that y/n understands.

Apparently, y/n didn't hear him, or rather didn't understand him but she slowly moves around staring right into the green one's eyes. Fear starts pulsing in her veins again. At the same time, the anger that's been trying to push down bubbles up again. 

Seriously? As if I don't have enough problems, I've got to deal with this thing again?, she thinks angrily.

„Y/n.“, Katsuki says calmly. They can't make a wrong move right now. His mind flickers back to Drami in the den. He's sure she must sense the green one by now. He just hopes she isn't too offended by earlier to help them if necessary.

Y/n ignores Katsuki. She continues to stare into the green's eyes intently. She holds its gaze. She's not going to back down. It's probably stupid to pick a fight with a dragon but Katsuki and the whole situation made her angry enough to try. 

With a steady, almost dangerous voice, she speaks to the dragon: „Leave. I won't be dealing with you tonight.“

The green dragon shifts, still holding her gaze. For a moment, its gaze flickers back to Katsuki.

„Hey, eyes on me!“, y/n barks at it and immediately catches its attention again. Katsuki feels like he's about to faint. Is she really speaking to a dragon like that? What outcome is she expecting?

`

„I'm telling you one more time.“, y/n says loudly, „Leave and don't come after us.“

The green dragon stares at her. There's a clicking sound in its throat. Then, he snaps at y/n, but y/n expected it considering it snapped at her earlier. She uses her chance and throws herself at its snout. Katsuki watches her with an open mouth. Y/n pushes its snout down before letting go of it.

„Leave!“, she yells. The green dragon looks at her perplexed. It raises its head, probably to spew fire at them when a deep rumble can be heard from the red one's den. It's probably a warning. It's enough to make the green one back off. Y/n holds her stance and stares after it until it disappears into the darkness again. 

When it's clear that it's gone, she loosens her stance and huffs a strand of hair out of her face. Meanwhile, Katsuki gains control of his facial expression again. He's not sure whether to be impressed that y/n stood her ground in front of a dragon or concerned that she's mad enough to try so. Actually, it's probably not that bad. He remembers when he tamed Drami. It's the first thing you need to be capable of, to stand your ground in front of such a mighty beast. Most people go into fight-or-flight mode. Of course, then you also need to fight it into submission, but that's another thing.

Y/n turns around to Katsuki. „Are you coming?“, she tells him before turning to leave. Katsuki quickly catches up to her. They don't speak while they walk back to the settlement. 

The closer they get to the tents, the more relaxed Katsuki feels. Also, his bad consciousness starts to creep up on him. He never apologized to y/n about what had happened today.

„Y/n“, he calls out to her and stops her by taking her hand. This time his touch is soft and not firm. Y/n can get out of his grasp anytime she wants. She turns towards him and looks at him expectantly.

„I'm sorry about today. I'm sorry about my mother treating you badly, I'm sorry if the whole presentation was humiliating to you and I'm sorry I lost it earlier.“, he tells her. 

Y/n is sure he's apologizing right now. He's got that look in his eyes. Curved eyebrows, an almost sorrowful look on his face. It's not enough, however, he needs to try a little harder. A simple apology isn't going to get him into her good grace again. Katsuki sighs and steps a bit closer to her. With his other hand, he strokes her cheek.

„You've been nothing but great. To me, you're the perfect mate. Hell, you are standing your ground no matter what we throw at you. Even a dragon. We, no I, failed you. Drami's right. If I want to be your mate, I need to be better. I promise I will be better.“, he softly says. He knows she can't understand him but he just hopes she'll soften up on him a little bit.

Y/n stares in his eyes intently. His voice sounds soft, almost submissive. She sighs. There's no use in keeping this argument up. It's not going to help her situation. And at least, Katsuki seems to understand that she's frustrated. She just hopes he also believes that her frustration is justified and that he's not just trying to sway her.

She touches his hand softly. Katsuki gives her a shy smile and takes a few steps closer to her. When she doesn't react, he closes the gap between them. Carefully, he wraps his arms around her. Y/n can't help but lean into the touch. By now Katsuki's touch has become something familiar and comforting to her. She buries her face in his chest. Katsuki chuckles and y/n can feel the vibration of his laugh. Her heart flutters a bit. Damn this Katsuki, she thinks, Why does he have to be so attractive? She can feel Katsuki's hand in her hair. Lightly, he scratches the skin on her head. Y/n wants to melt. After this long, confusing day, she just wants to relax and fall asleep in his arms.

Katsuki's hand moves towards her ear and he tucks a few strands of hair behind it. Y/n looks up to him and is met with a soft gaze. It's almost surprising to her. Katsuki rarely looks so soft. He's just not that kind of guy. Maybe today has worn him thin as well. Y/n gives him a small smile. Katsuki's hand ghosts along her cheek. Slowly he moves his head towards hers giving y/n enough time to move out of the way or reject him. She doesn't. Katsuki's lips meet y/n's in a light kiss. He's not putting much pressure behind it. Just enough for y/n's heart to make a little jump. 

Quickly, he pulls away and ruffles y/n's hair lightly. Y/n retreats a bit as well. Katsuki throws an arm around her and pulls her towards the settlement. There's almost no one outside anymore and it's quiet when they walk back to Katsuki's tent. Y/n is shivering by the time they arrive. Katsuki's arm around her shoulder does little to keep her warm. Inside, they're met with the chaos they left behind earlier today. Y/n shakes off Katsuki's arm and zigzags around the broken things on the ground. She picked up the broken parts of the chair earlier but left the other things he threw around on the floor. She flops down onto Katsuki's bed and points at the mess on the floor.

„You're tidying that up!“, she says sternly. Katsuki scratches the back of his head embarrassedly. He's not sure what y/n said but he guesses she's scolding him for the chaos in the tent. Dutifully, he starts picking up the things on the floor. Meanwhile, y/n starts looking for the clothes she wore to bed yesterday. Once she's found them, she disappears to the attached bathing hut. 

When she's done changing, she returns to the main room. She looks around approvingly. Katsuki tidied up the place quite well. Currently, he's not in the tent. Y/n guesses he disposes of some broken things. While waiting for him, she picks up an apple from a fruit bowl that Katsuki placed back on the small table. Sitting on the bed, she eats it. While it's not much, she's glad to finally get something into her stomach. 

Eventually, Katsuki comes back into the tent. When he sees y/n sitting on the bed, he gives her a curt nod. Then, he starts changing. He's still wearing the armor that he put on before the presentation. Chewing on her apple, y/n watches Katsuki changing. Katsuki usually doesn't wear many clothes so there's not much new to see but y/n takes her time observing. She feels like she deserves that. After all, he let all of his people and that woman eyeball her this morning.

She lets her eyes run over his broad shoulder and how the muscles of his back move when he opens his pants and slips out of them. Katsuki stands there in his underwear for a moment as long as he puts the armor and pants away. Y/n admires his naked chest. A few scars decorate the soft skin on his pecks. Her gaze follows his trained bicep down to his hands. She doesn't notice how Katsuki's done putting on some linen pants or how she stopped chewing at some point.

„Ya like what you see?“, Katsuki asks her with a cocky smirk on his face. 

Katsuki's voice rips her out of her own thoughts. She's met with Katsuki's triumphant facial expression. Oops, guess he caught me, she thinks. She sits up a bit and throws the rest of her apple at Katsuki. Katsuki catches y/n's projectile with ease and gives her a biting laugh. He finishes off the apple in two bites and throws it into a bowl by the side.

Katsuki walks over to the bed and gets in at y/n's side. He starts to climb over her but stops when he's right above her. Y/n tries to shuffle away to give him some more space to get to the other side of the bed when she notices a suspicious twinkle in his eyes. He's not planning to move to the other side. Y/n rolls her eyes and Katsuki chuckles. He leans down and kisses her on the lips.

This time, the kiss is a bit less soft. It's more urgent and there's more pressure behind it. Y/n's eyes flutter close. Katsuki slides down and his weight pushes y/n deeper into the pillows. Absently, y/n's hand runs down Katsuki's chest. She feels Katsuki's tongue running along her upper lip. She lets her own tongue run along his lip as well and soon they meet in an even deeper kiss.

By now, y/n's heartbeat picked up. Katsuki detaches from her lips for a second. He presses open-mouthed kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Softly, he nibbles at her collarbone. Y/n can't help but let out a muffled moan. She already can feel a tingling sensation in her lower belly. Also, she's starting to get hot. Katsuki lets out a chuckle before returning his attention to her. 

Their eyes meet and y/n can see a mischievous gleam behind Katsuki's eyes. „You dick!“, she tells him and smacks his upper arm. Katsuki laughs and rolls off of her. Y/n hasn't got much time to recover before Katsuki pulls her into him again. Angling her head up to him, he drags his lips over hers again. Y/n shifts to get more comfortable. Part of her leg grazes Katsuki's scrotch and she can feel that he's already half-hard. She's lowkey glad she's not the only one on whom this has an effect. 

Quickly, she tries to move her leg away again but Katsuki catches her leg mid-movement. He pulls her leg in between his own and pulls the rest of y/n half on top of him as well. His other hand finds its way back into y/n's hair. Entangling their mouths again, his other hand starts exploring y/n's back, butt and leg. Y/n's hand rests on his lower stomach just above his v-line. Slowly, her hand creeps up his chest up to his cheek.

They continue to make out like this for a while until y/n breaks the kiss to take a deep breath. Katsuki uses the break to fully pull y/n on top of him. Y/n can feel Katsuki's erection under her. In all honesty, she can't blame him. She's also feeling the effects of all this kissing. The way Katsuki's rough hands drag along her back drives her absolutely mad. She doesn't want to know how the inside of her thighs look right now.

Suddenly, Katsuki's hand finds its way under the shirt she's wearing. While his lips still feverishly drag along hers, his hand softly strokes its way up to her chest. Y/n's heart skips a beat when his calloused hand finally makes an impact with her boob. Carefully, Katsuki kneads the soft bundle of flesh. There's enough pressure behind it to make clear how urgently he wants to touch her and soft enough to not hurt her. Giving her one last kiss, he detaches from her and sits up.

„Take that off.“, he demands and pulls her up towards him. Y/n sits up and lets Katsuki push the shirt over her head. She feels flushed even though Katsuki and she now wear the same amount of clothing. Katsuki lets his gaze wander over her chest. Gently, he reaches out to her. The backside of his hand touches her cheek, and then he lets his hand sink downwards towards her chest. With both hands, he squeezes her breasts. He leans his head forward and rests his forehead against hers. While adrenaline and excitement still curse through her veins, y/n feels oddly at ease suddenly. 

Katsuki lets go of her chest and his hand finds hers. Gently, he caresses her hand before pulling it into his lap. Y/n can feel how he presses her palm onto his hardened member. It's not her first time touching a man. She wonders if Katsuki is aware of this or if he thinks it's her first time. Y/n's other hand reaches up to Katsuki's cheek and she pulls him down onto her lips again. At the same time, she carefully squeezes his dick. Katsuki lets out a frustrated groan before pushing his mouth on hers again. Gently, y/n massages him through his pants.

Then, Katsuki pushes her off of him. „Gimme a sec, doll.“, he mumbles and starts fumbling with his pants and pushes them down his legs. Y/n waits patiently for Katsuki to come back for her. When he shivered out of his pants, he crawls over to y/n again and pushes her onto her back. He starts kissing her neck and nipping at her earlobe. Each kiss leaves behind electricity that shoots down her body. Y/n takes his hand and puts it back on her chest again. She's done with kissing. She wants more. Katsuki lets out a low chuckle. Carefully he dips his head down and lets his tongue run over her nipple. Y/n groans and lets her hand run through his spiky hair.

Meanwhile, Katsuki's hand wanders down her side. When his hand finds the hem of her pants, she can feel her heartbeat quicken again. She's nervous about what's about to happen next. A positive nervous, an expectant nervous, a I-can't-wait-to-feel-your-hands-where-I-need-you-most nervous. However, Katsuki doesn't give her that satisfaction just yet. He lets his hand ghost over her crotch before gently cupping her most private area. Y/n gasps at the contact and wishes that stupid linen pants weren't in the way. Again, Katsuki chuckles at her expression.

Y/n glares at him. She's got enough of his teasing. She pushes at his chest and Katsuki lets himself fall back onto his back with a laugh. Immediately, y/n is on top of him and kisses down his neck. Gently, she bites the skin on the nape of his neck. Katsuki lets out a forced groan. She can feel his dick jump a bit in between her legs. She continues to kiss down his chest, and presses open-mouthed kisses onto his tummy until she has reached his v-line. She traces the bones on his hips while mischievously looking up at him. I can play the same game, she thinks. Katsuki looks down at her through lidded eyes. 

„Fuck, y/n, are you gonna do something or do I need to show you how?“, Katsuki grumbles and pushes his hand into y/n's hair trying to gently push her down onto his cock. Y/n clicked her tongue. „Oh, no, don't think I let you get off this easily.“, y/n teases him. She starts pressing soft kisses onto the side of his hips, down his v-line and stops right in front of his shaft. 

„Shit, you bitch!“, Katsuki groans in frustration but he doesn't move. Secretly he's enjoying y/n's attention and playfulness. He didn't expect y/n to be this devious, especially not in bed. Clearly, she must have some experience and he's glad about that. He was afraid that this would scare her away. But, considering her reactions, she must be enjoying this too.

Lost in his own thoughts, he doesn't notice how y/n's head dips down. Only when he feels her tongue running down his dick. He almost jumps up at the sensation. His hand grips her hair a bit tighter but he doesn't make any further movements. Y/n can feel his leg muscles tighten. She runs her tongue up his shaft again before gently teasing the tip of his cock. Katsuki groans and lets his head fall back. Y/n gently rubs the side of his legs in comfort. I got you, she wants to tell him. 

Then, she takes his entire dick into her mouth. Katsuki almost thrusts up but catches himself mid-movement. Y/n is glad for Katsuki's control. She's sure that she can't deepthroat him. For now, she just bobs up and down his length licking and sucking. The areas her mouth can't reach get stimulated by her hands which she has wrapped around his shaft.

Eventually, Katsuki can't take it anymore and pulls y/n off his dick. He sits up and roughly pulls y/n up to him, towards his mouth. Feverishly, he kisses her, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Slowly but carefully his resolution starts to crumble. In a swift movement, he pushes y/n onto her back with one hand and pushes down her pants with his other hand.

Cool air hits y/n's pussy. She almost gasps at that sensation alone. However, Katsuki is done waiting and teasing. Immediately, he pushes his fingers in between her folds. Y/n lets out a choked noise. Katsuki leans down and starts licking and biting her nipples while massaging her clit in rough, circular movements. Y/n is already seeing stars. It's been so long since someone touched her like this and clearly Katsuki knows what he's doing. His fingers wander from her clit downwards towards her entrance. Swiftly, one of Katsuki's fingers enter her. Y/n can't help but let out a raspy moan. 

She's not sure whether or not Katsuki registers the sound she's making. Maybe he doesn't care or maybe he's beyond capable of teasing her about it. Either way, his mouth lets go of her nipple and wanders down her tummy until he finally reaches her cunt. He's not waiting for another second before pushing his tongue in between y/n's folds. Y/n gasps again and buckles her hip. Katsuki simply pushes her hips down and continues his administration. While his tongue swirls around in between her pussy folds, his finger pumps in and out of her tight hole. Y/n's upper body twists around in the bedsheets. 

It feels so good, she barely can't take it anymore. Katsuki adds another finger and y/n goes wild. She pushes her hands into his hair and she's not sure whether she wants to push his head deeper into her cunt or pull him away because she needs to stop. Katsuki does not leave any room for a decision as he pushes deeper into her crotch. Just when he feels y/n's walls tighten around his fingers, he pulls away.

He stares at y/n with wild eyes. Her wetness still glittering on his lips and chin. Y/n's chest is heaving and she can't tear her eyes away from Katsuki. „Fuck, babe, you taste so fucking good.“, Katsuki grumbles while taking a long look at her. Y/n's hair is disheveled and her cheeks are flushed. Right now, there is a disappointed expression on her face. Katsuki grins and moves to hoover over her. 

„Don't worry, love, you'll get to come. You just have to do it on my dick. Only this way you can become truly mine.“, he tells her.

Y/n pouts because she doesn't understand why they're suddenly stopping. Luckily, Katsuki doesn't let her wait too long. He crawls up her body and kisses her deeply. Y/n can feel his dick laying right above her pussy. Katsuki snaps his hips a bit and pushes his dick in between her wet folds. Y/n moans and opens her legs so that he has better access to her pussy.

„Shit, babe, you want me that bad, hm?“, Katsuki groans as he sees y/n pull her legs apart for him. He leans back a bit to take a good view of her soaked cunt. „Fuck...“, he groans as he lets his dick run over her now-open pussy.

„Katsuki!“, y/n whines. She wants him. Now. Katsuki chuckles and leans down to kiss her. „Alright, alright, babe, I get what you want.“, he mumbles as he shifts and tries to find her entrance with his cock. When he's not fast enough, y/n takes matters into her own hands and leads his dick to her entrance. Katsuki doesn't wait for another second and pushes into her in one swift movement. Y/n can't help but let out a loud moan at the sensation. Katsuki's head drops down onto her shoulder.

He doesn't give her any time to adjust to him but immediately starts a steady pace. His dick slides in and out of y/n's slick hole. Y/n wraps her legs around his hips and grabs onto his shoulders. She can't help but let her eyes roll back a bit. Her fingers could never compare to the feeling of a real dick inside of her. And Katsuki's dick feels especially good. Katsuki keeps up the pace for a bit until he grows tired of it. He sits up a bit and his dick slides out of y/n. She groans in protest.

„Relax, love, we're not done yet.“, Katsuki mumbles as he sits up on his knees. Roughly, he pulls one of y/n's legs over his shoulder and opens her other leg widely. Then, he shoves his cock back inside of her. In short, hard movements, he rocks in and out of her pussy. Y/n cries out loud at the new angle and the roughness with which Katsuki starts to fuck her.

„Fuck, babe, this feels so good.“, Katsuki groans while his balls slap against y/n's ass. He has had sex before but it was never like this. He either paid the women or just took them. None of them were as wet as y/n or as willing to move against him the way y/n does. And the sight of her just added to his arousal. Concluding from her facial expression and moans, y/n must be so fucking horny for him. It makes him wish they had done this sooner. Before they came here and things got more complicated.

„Katsuki-i...! Harder! Fuck!“, y/n moans and grips his wrists. Even without understanding her words, Katsuki gets the message. He wants to fuck her harder and faster, too. He pulls y/n's leg from his shoulders and hooks his hands under both her knees pulling her pussy closer to him. He quickens the place and the closeness gives him the option to ram his dick into her harder.

„Fuck, yes!“, y/n yells. She's glad he understood what she wants. Fuck, this is so good, she thinks. She loves how hard Katsuki is taking her. Most men are too timid to take her how she likes it the first time. The first time is always a bit awkward, trying to find out what the other likes. But Katsuki fucks her just the way she wants his, the way she needs it. She needs to forget this awful day and Katsuki's cock in her pussy makes her mind goes numb.

Slowly, but steadily, y/n can feel her orgasm approaching. She hopes that Katsuki doesn't change his movement but keeps it up just the way he's fucking into her right now. There are already pearls of sweat forming on his chest and eyebrows. Meanwhile, Katsuki can feel y/n's pussy tighten around his member. 

„Shit, babe, are you close?“, he groans while keeping up the pace. Concluding from y/n's concentrated look, yes, she must be. Carefully he grips her upper body and pulls her up to him. Y/n whines at the change of position but Katsuki makes it up to her by fucking up into her and reaching that one spot that drives her mad. Katsuki pulls her up and his face rests on the left side of her neck. Y/n claws at his back, desperate to finally get off. Katsuki continues to fuck into her relentlessly. 

„I've got you, babe, c'mon, come on my cock.“, he mumbles into her skin. 

Right now, he needs her to finally climb over the edge. It will hurt less if she's in the middle of an orgasm. Y/n groans throwing her head back. Katsuki can feel her pussy tighten one more time and then start spasming around him. That's what he's been waiting for. He doesn't wait for another second and sinks his teeth into her neck.

Pain. Blinding, numbing pain shoots up her neck. 

Y/n lets out a choked scream. From all the things she's expected Katsuki to do, this is not on the list. Is he... biting her? It feels like he's about to rip a large part of flesh out of her. The pain overshadows the orgasm she forgets she's having. She pushes against his chest, trying to get him off of her.

„Let... go!!“, she cries as she pushes against him. There's no use. He's so much stronger than her. He only sinks his teeth deeper into her flesh. Maybe it's because there was more adrenaline in her blood back then, but this feels worse than when she was hit with the arrow.

Her heart pulls itself together. Why is he doing this? She can feel her warm blood flow down her own chest. He must know how badly he's injuring her.

Meanwhile, he's still fucking into her roughly.

She wants him off. She wants his teeth and dick outside of her body. Right now. She fights against him. Pushing and scratching him. Yelling and crying to let her go, but Katsuki doesn't listen to her. Or he's not hearing her.

His thrusts pick up speed as he fucks into her. 

„No, Katsuki! Pull out!“, she yells but Kasuki is too far gone to register her words. In three hard thrusts, he comes. Y/n can feel his hot seed spluttering deep inside of her.

By now, all colour must've left her face and she becomes numb. 

She doesn't feel the pain in her neck anymore. Or how Katsuki pulls away from her. How he gently places her onto the bed and presses a clean cloth against the wound. How he caresses her face and litters it with soft kitten kisses. How he gets another warm, wet cloth and carefully cleans the inside of her thighs. How he pulls her close and lovingly scratches her head. 

Or how he softly mutters:

„You're mine now, my mate.“

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[f1version]

26 BIRTHDAY KISSES ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x gf!reader ( she/her )

summary: 26th birthday, 26 pictures of you and Charles kissing. A kiss for each year.

notes: i’m back from my birthday trip!! i wrote this birthday special in like 30 minutes and it’s still charles’ birthday in a couple of places so… i’m not exactly late! enjoy <3

26 KISSES: A GALLERY

By your beautiful girlfriend, in collaboration with a lot of people but mainly Joris and ourselves.

1. DRUNK DANCING: A month after we got together, we were at Arthur’s 18th birthday. We got drunk, singing and dancing to the worst playlist in existence (Lorenzo’s) and, somehow, Arthur got to capture this moment I barely even remember.

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2018

2. AUGUST 2019: Summer break, so sweet so loving. You made me promise that if you jumped off first, I would jump too. It took me fifteen minutes to follow after you. Also your kisses were incredibly salty.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2019

3. THE MONZA INCIDENT: I had red lipstick the night you won in Monza, you told me it looked pretty, I asked you to kiss me, you did. Fast forward 8 minutes it was all smudged over your lips, you were 10 minutes late to the post-race conference, and Sylvia almost banned me that night. (I’m still kind of banned from your driver’s room)

Taken by Charles Leclerc, 2019

4. UNDER THE COVERS: 2020, what a crazy year. This one was taken the day we decided to finish moving in together. You were so excited, wanted everything to be perfect. Today I can say it is.

Taken by Me, 2020

5. WORDS: We were spending Christmas by ourselves, we face-timed our families, had dinner and watched movies. You gifted me three beautiful words I, of course, said back… and we also got a puppy!

Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2020

6. OCEAN BREZEE: Just a small escapade to take a breath. You were so cuddly that day, Joris was so done with you (he still took the pic though)

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021

7. CUTE OR HOT: I just wanted a cute morning selfie but, because of you, we ended up in a…promising mood. It was intense that’s all I have to say!

Taken by Me, 2021

8. KISS KISS KISS: 24th birthday, 24 kisses. This kind of became a tradition, let me know if you still want them this year!

Taken by Me, 2021

9. DRUNK AF: How did we got so drunk? Ask Pierre, he was the one hosting. Either way we got another amazing photo of us drunk-kissing!!!

Taken by Pierre Gasly, 2021

10. UNDER THE SEA: I’m just going to say that you and your ‘photo ideas 📸’ folder are attached by the hip. I personally love this one (even if it took half an hour to take)

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021

11. NEW YORK: Thought you could scape this one? Never! Arthur and I didn’t spend a week listening to your complaining for nothing, babe. You must admit that this kiss was magical, everything was so pretty that day. And then it started snowing!

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2021

12. EXPOSED: Remember how our amazing soft launch got ruined by our trip to Ibiza? Well, here it is, the image we couldn’t stop laughing at when it came out, we really thought we were sneaky.

Taken by unknown, 2022

13. HARD LAUNCH: A week later we were kissing on live TV. It’s one of my favorite memories, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Taken by F1 TV, 2022

14. BACK KISSES: Just a picture of the morning after I learned that you can convince anyone, even the CEO of Ferrari, to allow you to leave sponsor events early. I really don’t know if you knew those kisses were there, but I woke up to this, took a picture and then left you with them until we took a shower.

Taken by Me, 2022

15. SPONSORED BY AIRMAX: That time your team forgot to book us a flight and you had to ask Lando to ask Daniel to ask Max if we could go back to Monaco with them. I’ve never seen Max talk so much, Daniel laugh so loud or Lando taking so many pictures. He even asked to take one of us, here it is:

Taken by Lando Norris, 2022

16. SIXTEEN: I bet you thought this one would have something to do with racing. Number 16. Sorry to disappoint but it’s our beautiful puppy…Sixteen! I’m not gonna lie, I still hate you for persuading me into that name. Anyways if you kiss the dog you kiss the mom!!

Taken by Me, 2022

17. 25 KISSES: Again, tell me if you want those 26 kisses this year. Look at us last year!

Taken by Me, 2022

18. NEW YEAR, SAME LOVE: Sometimes the world feels unreal when I’m with you, this was one of those days. I felt in another reality, the world slowed down, it was just you and me. I remember thinking “I fell in love with the right person” and then you kissed me.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2022

19. BLACK SUIT: Remember when your fans thanked me for your “new” outfits? They repeated it was the girlfriend effect, you couldn’t stop talking about how stylish you are with or without me!

Taken by Me, 2023

20. PHOTOSHOOT: You got Joris to take these shots just because you wanted a new wallpaper. I thought it was silly, until one day all of them were hanging around our home. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Charlie.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023

21. FIVE STAR CHEFS: Not much to say, just sorry for being so distracting and thank you for the amazing (stolen from Ferrari) dinner babe!

Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2023

22. RED LIGHTS: This year’s addition to our drunk-kissing collection. I remember you drowning shots with Carlos and Pierre, asking me to dance with you, absolutely failing at that, and then kissing me. After that there’s blurry ferrari red, giggles and a hot bath.

Taken by Andrea Ferrari, 2023

23. LAZY IN BED: Wonderful lazy days by the ocean, that’s how we spent the summer break. That morning in particular you didn’t want to get up, basically gluing me to bed. We got up at 1pm.

Taken by Me, 2023

24. JUST ONE QUESTION: Can I drive the purosangue now? Please please please

Taken by Me, 2023

25. LOVER: This day I woke up thinking about those dreams we talk about all the time, you even remembered me a couple of them throughout the day. Charlie, I do want to do this for the rest of our lives, never forget it <3

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2023

26. TWENTY-SIX: We are just 26 but I hope our story keeps on writing itself. I love you, these have been the happiest 6 years of my life. Happy birthday bébé ❤️

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 19)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death, sex, anal, double penetration, fingering.

Word Count: 4689

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18)

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 5

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“What did you just say?” Nesta’s tone is flat, as if all of the emotion that was previously pouring from her soul miraculously disappeared as her walls slammed back up. It’s eerie, how she does that. She sounds like death incarnate, and not the undead zombie kind. Her face is stony, silver glare sharp as a blade, and the way she won’t stop staring at you makes your throat seize.

Maybe you shouldn’t have blurted the conclusion you’d come to upon examining Elain’s wounds. She’s surprisingly coherent for someone bitten by a zombie four weeks ago, and with the symptoms you noticed, her mucus changing from black in color to clear, her fever on the verge of breaking, coherent enough to form full sentences, she seems as well on the mend as she would be with any other sickness.

But how could this disease possibly work that way? Yeah, it seems too fucking simple, really, like an age-old gotchya! movie moment that’s going to kick you all in the ass later on. How could any of these creatives possibly have nailed such an ending like this? A cure for the zombie apocalypse? In the blood of a singular family? Well, as far as you can tell, anyway. Been there, done that, seen that in the cinemas three times over, but you ate it up every single time.

Now that you’re living it, you can confirm that everything about the apocalypse is not that exciting and not that cinematic.

The only sound in the room is Feyre’s soft whimpers of pain. She’s out cold, succumbed to the virus threatening to take control of her body, but she’s breathing, even if it sounds like she swallowed a harmonica. Her restless unconsciousness, at least, draws Rhys’ attention from where he’s still being stiff-armed by Cassian. You’re not angry with the way he reacted to your help…or lack thereof. You’re just as worried about Feyre as he is, as anyone in this house is, and you glance at your best friend as if you can will it into her to survive by looks alone.

It's hard to see her like this, but you hold firm to the notion that the Archeron family can defeat the odds stacked against humanity, and that she’ll pull through.

You give yourself a nod of reassurance and straighten your spine as you shift your gaze from Feyre to her oldest sister. Those piercing gray eyes are soul-sucking in their own way, but you know that Nesta is a terrified girl somewhere beneath all of that iron and nails. Not only has she almost lost one sister to a zombie bite, but now two? You can’t imagine how she’s feeling in a time like this, and you feel helpless that there isn’t anything more you can do.

“Your blood,” you answer, and are shocked by how strong your voice sounds. Even Rhys looks up from tenderly attending Feyre when you speak, stroking her damp hair from her forehead. You shake your head, continuing. “Look, I couldn’t even begin to explain the science behind my thoughts, but from what I’ve seen of Elain’s wound, it’s that the virus is no longer eating away at her. It’s like when her body finally began combatting against the bite, it just…” You trail off, chewing on your lip as you think. You begin pacing, sorting through your racing thoughts. You hardly notice Eris gently steer Nesta away from you and toward a chair, helping her lower into it. Her spine stays rigid, there is no admitting defeat in front of strangers.

“Froze,” she supplies, and a knowing look washes over her face. She’s still glaring at you with those sharp, silver eyes, but at least she isn’t looking at you like she’s actually going to slit your throat for your crazy theories.

“Right,” you agree. Feyre makes another weak noise of protest, like she’s reliving the nightmare of when she was bitten. How scared she must have been, out there alone with Rhys, searching for you, Azriel, and Cassian and a place to call your own. You should’ve never split up.

You tear your gaze from your friend, sliding it down to the arm you wrapped in gauze. You’re terrified to look, to see if the black of the virus in her veins is actively eating at her. The onyx blood polluting her veins travels from the site of the bite, winding all the way down to the tips of her fingers, the black leeching into an intricate spiderweb pattern of her veins. Slowly, carefully, you ease the sleeve of her shirt back above the wound and peek under. The release of breath you let out makes you realize how truly exhausted you are. The wound hasn’t crept any higher yet, hasn’t continued making its way toward her heart, so you take it as a good sign, for now. You’ll have someone monitor her throughout the night.

 “Whatever is in their blood is fighting back against the infection,” you explain. “I don’t know how, or if there’s anyone else out there who’s blood can do the same,”—that is a conversation for later, you note, noticing the weary glance shared between Nesta and Eris. You redirect the end of your sentence to Rhysand, who murmurs something softly in Feyre’s ear, his attention completely focused on what you’re saying. “But all we can do now is wait.”

You lean into Azriel’s side when he sidles up beside you, reading your wearied fatigue on your face. His body is solid and warm and you want to both nuzzle closer and step back, all too aware of how you might smell, the things you’ve touched today. It’s the first time you’ve felt this dirty in a long while. You’ve gotten used to the second, and third, and fourth layers of skin in the form of muck and grime. You ache to get clean.

Azriel doesn’t let you get far, sliding a hand around your waist and pulling you into his broad chest. You hope that the few layers of filth can cover the blush creeping up your neck. This still feels so new with him, the silent, stoic man who you’d figured wouldn’t dare show his rivals his weakness like this. Something must have happened while he and Cassian joined Nesta and Eris in finding your friends if he’s allowing them to see the intimacy between you two.

Public displays of affection are definitely more Cassian’s thing. Case-in-point, he’s grinning like his smile is going to split his face in two, hazel eyes sparking at the picture you and Azriel paint. It’s one that makes his cock twitch, the urge to drag the both of you somewhere private is strong.

He bounds over with a swagger that looks more like he should be striding shirtless down the beach instead of across a fancily decorated zombie shelter in the form of a man’s home that tried to kill you. You can’t take your eyes off of him, how his muscles jump with each long stride, right until he smothers the both of you in a warm embrace in which you easily accept.

“And what of Elain’s progress?” Nesta clears her throat. You open your eyes and catch Eris giving her a nudging reprimand that she ignores. That’s fine, because you don’t feel bad about being with your boyfriends, either. “She’s been like this for weeks. Borderline delusional, spouting lines like she’s a psychic. She may have been able to fight off the virus, but at what cost? Will we ever see our Elain again?”

It's the first tremble of fear you hear from the unfaltering eldest Archeron. And it’s the money question, the one that you have no more of an answer to than how their blood is stopping the infection from the bite.

You shake your head softly and Nesta’s jaw clacks as her teeth snap shut. She shoves up from the chair she’s sitting at and casts a longing look to Feyre. “Well, then. You’ve upheld your part of the bargain and brought my sister back to us, so you can stay.” It looks like it just about kills her to say it, but Eris looks proud. He even offers you a genuine smile. “We’ll take shifts monitoring her health. Until it’s your turn, you can sleep in the basement.”

You hide the instinctive shudder that spindles down your spine. You and basements don’t have a great record, but Eris’ accompanying words do sweeten the deal.

“There’s a fully stocked bathroom down there, with running water. Please, utilize it to your liking.” You don’t know if this is a polite way of telling you that you stink to the high heavens, but you don’t care. They have running water.

You almost sprint down the stairs on that promise alone, but the two men holding you close don’t let up when you try to squirm away.

Cassian grins at you, amused. You try not to pout, but you can’t wait to step under that clean water. You don’t even care if it’s warm, you just want to rid yourself of too many days of filth to count.

And the idea of showering with Cassian and Azriel…your brain almost short-circuits in your head. You’ll feel much more comfortable with their mouths on your skin if you’re freshly clean, which means that there will definitely be loads of fooling around tonight, if the exhaustion doesn’t drag you down first.

“I’ll take first watch,” Rhys says, already planting himself in a chair beside Feyre’s bad arm. He takes her hand gently in his, cradling it as he watches her face contort and sweat drip down her temples. You hurt for the both of them, wishing that there was more that you could do.

Azriel’s lips catch your temple in a long peck. You meet his gaze as he pulls away, and the look on his face tells you and Cassian to go ahead, that he’s going to speak to Rhys.

You nod and allow Cassian to guide you back into the depths of the home.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I don’t know how the fuck we’re supposed to sleep under the same roof as that,” Cassian shivers and you glare.

“Cassian,” you hiss, swatting his arm. He winces, rubbing his bicep and shooting you an apologetic look. “Her name is Elain, and she’s clearly still alive,” you bite, because he’s being unnecessarily rude. Yes, she looks like she looks like the mother of zombies, but she’s still a person, or half of one, anyway.

And Feyre’s currently in the same boat.

You wanted to wait for Azriel to shower, you really did, but the enticing call of the clear waters and the steam when Cassian switched the faucet on was like a siren call. There was no denying yourself any longer, and if Azriel finishes his conversation with Rhys within the next hour or two, you’re pretty sure he’ll be able to join you.

For now, you have Cassian. Honestly, you would have taken a small bucket of water and a rag and made do. You were not expecting a luxurious bath in the basement of this luxurious home, and not only is the shower humungous, but it has multiple showerheads.

Multiple.

You think that your bad luck might finally be turning around.

“Sorry,” he shrugs, sheepishly, and you tug him closer to you by his forearm because the suds dripping down his face almost slide into those big hazel eyes of his with the way that his head is turned down to stare at you apologetically. Quickly, you wipe away the soap. You don’t need to hear him whining if it gets in his eyes, you’d like to enjoy the rest of your shower.

You tut, reluctantly accepting his apology. It’s much easier to when his large hands slide around your waist and tug your body into his. The both of you have refrained from touching thus far, much too interested in the running water and scraping your bodies free of dirt, but now that you’re significantly less dirty, you allow yourself to roam your eyes across every inch of delectable skin he has on show. And you mean every single inch.

Your breath catches in your throat as your body slides against his, leaving no room between you. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck where you play with it, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

You can feel his cock filling with need. Despite the hot water beating across your back, your nipples pebble when your chests meet in a deep inhale.

“Cassian,” you breathe, fingers tightening between the strands of his hair. His eyes grow with need, the same need that’s coiling in your gut, begging for attention, for the friction pressed against your stomach.

“Yes?” He teases, but his voice is deep with need. You trail your fingers across his shoulders, unable to keep yourself from wandering. You’d press even closer if there was room to, but there isn’t, so you continue your path down his muscular arms, back up, and then trail your touch down his chest, right between your bodies where you can grip his cock.

Cassian hisses out a sharp breath as your fingers wrap around him. It’s been days since you last fooled around, and he’s never cared about cleanliness, but the fact that he can see what you look like not covered in grime and old blood…you’re fucking breath-taking.

“Touch me,” you beg softly. “I need you to touch me.”

Cassian doesn’t hesitate. His hands wind around your thighs and then he’s hoisting you up into his arms with ease. You wince, nails clawing at his shoulders while you worry about his leg but he shakes his head. He doesn’t even give you the chance to ask because his head dips low, his mouth capturing yours in a desperate kiss.

You part your lips for him, kissing him just as hotly, moaning when his tongue traces yours. You pour everything into the kiss, the emotions wearing on you from days spent locking them up. The loss of half of your group, Feyre being bitten, finding all this. It’s overwhelming in the best way, even more so when Cassian’s fingers skim across your slit, causing you to moan loudly, arching into his chest.

“Fuck,” he curses. His chest heaves against your own as he pulls away to drink in your features as he grips your hips and pulls you even harder against him. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the friction of his cock against your soaked slit. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“No, you,” you protest breathlessly, unsure if you’re even making any sense. It doesn’t matter right now, anyway, not with the way you’re dragging your nails down the muscle of his back, telling Cassian that you want more.

His laugh warms your body. It settles between your thighs, the ones that he looks like he wants to settle between. The door opens, stealing both of your attention.

Azriel steps through, running a hand through his dark hair. His lips are pressed in a firm line, his eyes downturned toward the ground. Whatever happened during his conversation with Rhys weighs heavily on him, you catch the flash of sadness in his eyes when he lifts them to meet yours before they fall down you and Cassian’s bodies, drinking in the way you’re entwined with each other.

And Azriel’s gaze heats. Makes you squirm in the best fucking way because you need him just as badly. You want him pressed up against your back, kissing at your neck with his fingers trailing possessively down your body and he and Cassian fight for dominance over you. As he worms his way into your ass, Cassian at your front.

You want both of them, and you want them now.

The words are stuck in your throat, but Azriel sees them. He always does, which is why he wastes no time at all shedding his clothes before entering through the glass door of the shower when you raise your hand to him.

His hazel gaze doesn’t leave yours, not even when Cassian gets back to work, growling deeply against your neck as he ravages you. You release a mewl of pleasure, one hand clamping around the back of his neck to keep him buried against your throat.

Azriel doesn’t stop under one of the many showerheads pouring water. Doesn’t pause at the warmth that drapes itself down his body in a way you could only wish to imitate with the flat of your tongue. He wears the water as well as he wears anything, and his stride doesn’t break until he reaches you.

He caresses your face with a firm hand to your jaw, guiding you right to his lips. He’s sinful with the way that he kisses, knows exactly what to do to make you fucking melt. Even Cassian pulls away to watch the both of you devour each other, and you can feel him growl lowly in his chest, pleasure spiking the temperature of the room to boiling.

You’re so dazed after Azriel’s kiss that you barely catch his words, too busy chasing the taste of his mouth to hear. “Let me wash up first, and I’ll be right here,” he explains, his fingers trailing scalding lines down your back. The tips of his fingers trail right between the crease of your cheeks, a teasing brush over your hole. You shudder with pleasure, automatically leaning further into Azriel for more. You whine when he pulls away, but he kisses you harshly before stepping away completely. “I’m filthy, sweetheart, and you’re all pretty and clean.”

“Make a mess of me, Az,” you keen as Cassian slips a thick finger into your cunt. It slides in with little resistance and you clench around his digit. The both of them threaten to overwhelm you already, and you don’t even have one of their cocks inside of you. How will you be when both of them are sheathed inside of you? “Please.”

“Fuck,” he groans, staring at you up and down. You look like a pretty doll all perched up in Cassian’s arms, ready for the taking. Azriel forces himself a step away, but his hot gaze doesn’t slip from yours. “Let me clean up while Cassian stretches you and I’ll be right there.”

You agree with a huff that shifts into a whine as Cassian teases that finger in a circle, brushing up against your sensitive spot. You hardly get to revel in the feeling before he’s moving further back, pulling out just to press the tip into your ass.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your cheek, peppering encouraging kisses to your face as he slowly works his finger inside of your rear. It’s a foreign feeling, but it doesn’t hurt. You focus on the feeling of his lips on your skin, craning your neck to find his mouth with your own as you force your muscles to relax. “That’s my girl.”

You shudder at those words, liking them all too much.

Half of your time is spent kissing the daylights out of Cassian while the other half of the time is spent ogling Azriel. The delicious curve of his body as he washes the sins of the apocalypse from his body, all so that he can revel in the sins of yours. You can’t help but watch him, the way his muscles contract and contort with his motions. You wish you were the bar of soap he drags down his abs. You swallow harshly when that bar of soap makes it to the vee of his hips and he circles his cock, cleaning himself.

When you rip your eyes away from the display, you catch his hazel ones, glittering with amusement.

You don’t think you can wait all that much longer.

“Quit teasing her, Az,” Cassian groans when you slide yourself against his cock again. It’s a lame attempt at trying to catch his tip so you can sink yourself on him, and when it doesn’t work, you find yourself reaching a hand between your bodies. You can’t wait any longer, you need something inside of you right now or you might burst, but Cassian quickly catches your wrist in his hand, drawing you away from your trophy. “She’s ready.”

You preen at his words, turning to look at Cassian eagerly. His grin is so fucking charming that it makes your heart skip in your chest and you can’t help but lift yourself up to catch his lips against yours, thanking him for being so gentle with you.

“You want to do this in here, pretty girl?” He asks, wiping a strand of hair plastered to your cheek away. His thumb strokes softly against your face, and his eyes are filled with adoration.

“Yes,” you plead. “Yes, yes, please. I want the both of you right here,” you shake your head profusely. Emotions well your eyes. You don’t think that you’ve ever been this aroused before, and not only by one man, but with his companion that has taken you so long to win over. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done and you would do it all over again if you had to.

You turn in Cassian’s arms, reaching for Azriel as he finally nears. He’s as squeaky clean as you are, and he looks utterly fucking edible, even more so when he falls easily into your kiss and plasters himself against your back, trapping you between him and Cassian.

“Please,” you whine again when his lips move from yours in favor of tracing down your skin. His fingers are hot, impatient as they glide across your body, gripping and squeezing every inch of you. Cassian’s doing much the same, and the feeling of the both of them against you is overwhelming in the best possible way.

Azriel hushes you, nipping at your earlobe. Over your shoulder, he makes eye contact with Cassian, who nods. Oh-so slowly, does Azriel take his cock in hand and tease it through your seam, notching the head of himself right against your hole.

“Do it,” you breathe, already arching backwards into him. Azriel doesn’t waste any time, and the both of you release a long, drawn out hiss as he slowly edges his cock into your ass.

“You okay?” He mutters into your ear, though he doesn’t think he could stop himself if he fucking tried. You’re too tight around his cock, if he doesn’t squeeze his eyes shut, he’s going to cum, and he hasn’t even given one full pump inside of you yet. Hell, Cassian hasn’t even worked himself inside of you yet, either. He needs to chill the fuck out.

“More than,” you groan in pleasure. Your fingers curl into the back of his thigh where you’re holding onto him for dear life. “Cass, baby, please!”

“Alright, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your mouth, distracting you as he presses slowly into your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

And they’re so big. Gods, it’s like they’re fucking ripping you in half. You’ve never felt better though, being stretched by the both of their cocks almost makes the apocalypse and everything you went through worth it.

Azriel grunts at the feeling of Cassian’s cock grinding slowly into you. He can feel it through the wall of muscle that keeps him away from Cassian, and holy fuck, it’s better than anything he’s ever done before.

When Cassian comes to an agonizing stop, his hips meeting yours, there’s a stillness in the air. The three of you take a deep breath as one, and it feels like everything that has been waiting to click into place finally does.

It feels like you can finally breathe.

The three of you are attached as one, and you know that in this moment, that there is no leaving each other again. All for one, and one for all.

You love them, and they love you, even if no one is emotionally available to admit it in this very moment.

“Move,” you grit, before you take matters into your own hands.

Neither man wastes a fucking second, and you cry out loudly as they both begin jerking their hips into yours.

“Oh, my Gods,” you moan loudly, uncaring if the sounds you’re making seep through the floorboards to the floors above. You wouldn’t care if you took the mountains down with your pleas, with the noises they’re forcing out of your body as long as they keep fucking going. “Don’t stop!”

“Never,” Cassian agrees huskily, and you can hear the promise in his voice. He readjusts his hands under your ass, keeping you upright. He revels in the way your fingers drag down his muscle, how your other hand is thrown behind your head, keeping Azriel close as you kiss hungrily. Cassian watches, enjoying the view.

When you and Azriel break apart, it’s because your head is too busy falling back against his shoulder in pleasure. Azriel’s hazel eyes meet Cassian’s heady look. The both of them are sweating, beads mixing with the water that’s still pouring from the spout above. This is unlike anything either of them has experienced before, that either of them ever thought could happen. They found you, and you’ve all accepted each other. It’s a match made in fucking hell, but there’s nothing better.

Cassian can’t take it any longer. You cry out when he shifts forward, capturing Azriel’s mouth against his own. It’s a messy kiss, one where they grapple for dominance, but it’s so fucking hot that it has the pit of your stomach coiling. Their cocks drive into you even faster as they kiss, more teeth than anything, and you trip into your orgasm, gripping onto them as they continue to plunge into you.

Both men rip apart to watch your orgasm ripple over you. You’re so fucking beautiful, and you arch, preen under their heavy, hungry gazes. Fuck, you want their eyes on you always, you’ll do anything for it.

Your body tremors with pleasure, tightening around their cocks in a way that makes them release twin groans of pleasure.

“I’m not going to last,” Cassian pants, and Azriel agrees with a choked moan. That, and the way that your eyes flutter open, your face contorting with pleasure so quickly after your first orgasm, is Cassian’s undoing. He cums with a loud groan, jerking his hips into you once, twice, thrice more before he’s emptying himself inside of you.

The feeling cascades over Azriel last, and he cums, burying his head in your neck. You moan as his canines pierce your skin, harsh but not enough to break skin. You’d be worried about the feeling if you weren’t drowning in fucking pleasure, the feeling akin to what you’ve come to fear the most. Instead, you bury your fingers in his black hair to keep him in place.

“One more,” Azriel encourages softly, voice weighed down with pleasure. His hand snakes around your body and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. Cassian groans when you tighten around them again, milking their cocks for all their worth. To help you out, Cassian dips low and sucks one of your pert nipples into his mouth.

You cum again with a scream that nearly shatters the glass shower door.

“There she is,” Cassian grunts against your wet skin, cuddling you close when you deflate into his chest. You whimper when Azriel slowly removes himself from your ass, and Cassian cradles the back of your head. “You did so well, pretty girl. So good for us.”

You can only nod, exhaustion weighing your limbs.

“Sleep,” Azriel encourages, and his hands find your body in a soothing motion as he helps clean you off. There’s a light press of lips against your cheek but you don’t know if it’s Cassian or Azriel’s doing. Maybe both. You let your fatigue carry you into a dreamless sleep, entrusting both men fully to care for you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020 @jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace @aemondsb1tch @chxosangxl @marigold-morelli @w0nderw0manly

[moonstruckme]

rooomate james. 😭😭 literally obsessed w himm!!

Me too I love him (and you!) sm <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 808 words

You don’t recognize James’ car until he shouts at you. 

“Hey!” 

You give a little jump, turning midair to find James smiling out the rolled-down window. 

“Want a lift?” 

“God, you scared me!” You backtrack and open the passenger door. The seat looks to have been tidied in a hurry, receipts and takeaway containers tossed into the backseat. “How’d you even know I’d need a ride?” 

James refrains from responding to give you an expectant look. You roll your eyes and buckle your seatbelt. Satisfied, he puts the car in reverse, setting his hand on your seat to look behind him as he backs out of the parking spot. 

“You weren’t home when I got there,” he says, “and then I remembered on Sundays you usually get off at eleven, so here I am. Is Art not with you?” 

“No, he wasn’t working tonight.” 

James doesn’t seem too disappointed by this. He pulls onto the street. You watch him, looking almost unconsciously for signs of wear and tear. 

Now that rugby season is in full swing, he’s gone not just during the day for training but sometimes overnight for away games. You’ve been alone in your apartment for the whole weekend while he played in London and then Bristol. It was weird. You think you’ve accidentally grown used to having James around. You don’t fancy yourself a very tactile person, and the urge to hug him isn’t terribly strong, but it’s there. 

“How was work?” he asks you. 

“It was fine. How were your matches?” 

“They were fine,” he imitates you, grinning. “No, it’s like I said. Winning the second one’s always better than winning the first and losing the second. It’s nice to end on a good note.”

He’d texted continual updates while he was gone. You sat on your couch, pretending to yourself or perhaps to some invisible, judgemental observer that you were watching TV when really you were entirely focused on James’ texts. You imagined him sitting in his hotel room doing the same, or maybe in a pub with his teammates, smiling at his phone each time you responded. 

Your imagination has become terribly overindulgent lately. 

“Honestly, I was pretty disappointed you weren’t home when I got there,” James says, a familiar teasing lilt to his voice. “I was hoping to come in and catch you wearing one of my jumpers and staring tearily at a framed photo of me.” 

You roll your eyes, but your face burns. You did use his shampoo, once. In your defense, you’d run out of yours, but you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to smell like him, nice and fresh and comforting. It had foamed more than you expected. It did smell really nice, but it made your hair feel dry (boy shampoo always does that, you’ve no idea how James’ curls seem to thrive under such poor treatment) and you felt silly about it for days, lovesick in the most derogatory sense. 

Didn’t stop you from sniffing your hair occasionally, though. 

“You weren’t gone to war,” you reply. “And where would I get a framed photo of you?” 

James looks affronted. “I assumed you already had one. How did you get through the weekend without even a photo? You brave, brave girl.” 

“I actually threw a rager,” you deadpan. “Rented out your room to six people traveling through with the carnival and let them invite over all their friends. Did loads of hard drugs.” 

“Well, we all have different ways of coping.” He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder consolingly. You pretend goosebumps don’t skitter all the way down your arm from the brief touch. “And what a marvelous job you’ve done covering up your escapades!” He exclaims as you pull up in front of the apartment. “I haven’t come across the cocaine dust on our bathroom counter yet, so you must have really done a thorough cleanup.” 

“Keep looking, it’s around there somewhere.” 

James laughs. You’re slower getting out of the car than he is, and by the time you emerge he’s in front of you, pulling you into a hug. You think your bones liquefy. He’s warm and strong and he smells like his shampoo, both arms squishing you heartily before he lets go with a little laugh. 

“Sorry,” he says, bringing his hands to your upper arms, “I didn’t even ask. I just missed you, you know?” James has this look on his face, smile brilliant and eyes wide open. So saccharine sweet you almost can’t look at him. “Guess I got used to having you around.” 

You do your best to smile back. “Yeah, me too.” 

He squeezes your arms before turning to go inside. “You smell like Italian food, too. I don’t suppose you’ve cooked anything recently that’s still in the fridge? I’m beginning to think about second dinner.” 

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “how about we get comfy and cozy with each other, in more ways than one?” prompts

(Warning: This list is pretty much an overshare in the form of a prompt list, because it is very much based on my personal experiences. A lot of TMI happens. 

If that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read the list. If you’re okay with it, proceed on at your own discretion. 

Don’t say I didn’t warn you because… It’s a lot.) 

1. “I hope I’m not being too needy.” “Well, I like it when you’re needy. I like it when you’re like this.” (THE FUCKING AUDACITY OF THIS MAN WLEIFLEKWNKLEWFN) 

2. Character B groping Character A’s ass while they’re making out.

3. Character A moaning and whimpering into Character B’s ear while rubbing themselves against Character B’s thigh, desperate for release.

4. “I… I want you to touch me,” Character A admits, while staring up at the ceiling, cheeks reddening in an increasing show of embarrassment.

5. “Tell me to stop if it becomes too much, okay?” 

6. Character B dry humping Character A; hips thrusting into theirs, picking up with the pace when Character A whimpers in their ear and pulls Character B even closer in response because they don’t want any sort of space left between them; not even a sliver. 

7. Character B getting all sweaty and heated while they’re dry humping Character A.

8. Character B taking off their shirt to get more comfortable with Character A, and Character A subtly admiring their physique. (WHEN HE DID THAT?? THE DISRESPECT??? This guy’s gonna ruin me, I know it sjjsjs)

9. “Don’t be too loud,” Character B murmurs softly, planting a tender kiss on Character A’s face while sliding their thigh against Character A’s crotch, taking in the way Character A lets out a strangled sigh at that. (SIRRRR?? THEN DON’T FUCKING DO THIS TO ME?? WTF LWKENFWEK. Mind you, his fam came home after we were alone for an hour or two, so-)

10. Character A and Character B continuously checking in on each other every now and again to make sure they’re comfortable with the way things are going. 

11. Character B planting soft kisses all over Character A’s face and their neck, reassuring and sweet while things get very, very heated. 

12. “You’re going to make me not want to leave the bed if you keep doing this,” Character A warns in a low moan, as Character B continues to kiss their neck, their body pressing against Character A’s. Character B only chuckles in response, nipping at their skin playfully. 

13. Legs tangling together so they can get closer to each other. 

14. Character B fondling Character A, enjoying the noises they’re eliciting from Character A; enjoying the way they’re making Character A unravel at the seams, coming undone by their touch so easily. 

15. Character A hiding their face into Character B’s shirt because they can’t keep the noises at bay, and hoping to God they’re not being too loud. 

16. Character A and Character B’s hands roaming each other’s bodies, almost like they can’t get enough of each other (and they can’t. They can’t get enough of each other is the fucking problem here).

17. Character A desperately humping Character B’s thigh, chasing their high, shameless noises scraping at the back of their throat. 

18. Character B’s fingers speeding up in response to the sweet sounds falling out of Character A’s mouth. 

19. Character B letting their hands wander all over Character A’s body; slipping under their shirt, their pants, their undergarments, and Character A enjoying having their hands all over them like this even though they’re too shy to admit to that with words. 

20. “Do you want me to straddle you?” 

21. “How am I supposed to think about anything else while fucking myself now?” Character A questions in a rushed gasp as Character B continues to rub their thigh against their crotch.

22. “You’re so adorable,” Character B murmurs as they continue to thrust their hips into Character A’s. “How is me doing this adorable to you?” Character A questions, moaning a little at a particularly hard thrust of Character B’s hips against theirs. 

23. Character B leaving hickeys on Character A’s neck, on spots that make them pretty damn visible to the public.

24. “So… How do you like it on top?” “It’s uh… It’s an interesting experience.”

25. Character B’s body responding to the noises Character A’s making because of what they’re doing with them; to them.

26. Character B’s hand slipping past Character A’s pants to grope their bare ass while they’re dry humping each other.

27. Character B hitching Character A onto their thigh, pressing their thigh firmly against Character A’s crotch to tease them. 

28. Character B caging Character A between their arms while kissing them, and Character A’s arms wrapping around Character B’s neck to pull them closer, fingers carding through their hair; hands sliding down their neck; their shoulders; their arms; slipping under their tank top, palms resting against their bare skin; palms gliding along their spine and their back. 

29. Character B asking for consent whenever they want to do something a little out of the blue, and stopping when Character A isn’t comfortable with it. (BOUNDARY RESPECTING KING, PEOPLE NEED TO BE LIKE HIM!!) 

30. “Sorry if I went too far,” Character B says, and Character A shakes their head. “No, you didn’t go too far. You didn’t go far at all; you didn’t go far enough,” Character A says, flushing at the brazen admission coming out of their own mouth.

31. Character B trailing kisses down Character A’s chest/breasts. 

32. Character B pulling up Character A’s undergarment/shirt and taking Character A’s breast/nipple into their mouth, with Character A arching into them with pleasure at the unexpected gesture, a soft, encouraging gasp leaving them.

33. Character B slipping their hand under Character A’s shirt/undergarments to fondle with their nipples/breasts. 

34. Just Character A being a needy little fuck and needing Character B to be all over them because they’re so fucking addicted to the taste of them and the way their body rocks against theirs. 

35. Character A letting out little obscenities while they’re fooling around, which only fuels Character B further. 

36. “Well, now I’m really wet/hard.” “I see no problem with that.” 

37. Character A rocking back against Character B while they’re spooning and Character B shallowly thrusting against them in response. 

38. Character A biting their bottom lip to try and keep quiet (and failing pretty miserably).

39. “Yeah, you like that?” Character B softly murmurs into Character A’s ear as Character A lets out an involuntary sigh, arching up into Character B in response. 

40. “Well… I do fantasise being restrained by handcuffs.” “We can try that in the future if you’d like.” (WELL FUCK ME I GUESS LWKENFEWLKNF) 

41. Character A moaning into Character B’s mouth while they’re making out, which spurs Character B on, with the way they pull Character A even closer and kisses them harder; with much more fervour than before. 

42. Character B touching, teasing and feeling Character A up. (DID Y’ALL GET THAT WAYV REFERENCE OR WHAT—)

43. Character B caressing the side Character A’s thigh while they’re kissing.

44. “And you’re telling me this is what cuddling is?” “Mhm.” “Bullshit.”

45. Character A fucking themselves on Character B’s fingers, whimpering in a way they’d be embarrassed about if they weren’t so in the moment. 

46. Character A trying so fucking hard to control the soft little whimpers leaving them when Character B rubs against them with their fingers. 

47. “I’m all over the place and it’s all your fault,” Character A whines while Character B chuckles. “Mmm, it’s not all on me, you know,” Character B says, tone teasing. 

48. “It’s just me and you now,” Character B murmurs softly, planting a kiss on Character A’s lips, slowly rocking their hips against Character A. (onrwlfgnrekljng FUCK!! OFF!! ALKFHEWLKNF) 

49. Character B closing the blinds for privacy reasons. (He was struggling to close the blinds and I was giggling and teasing him about that lmfaofenlkfn)

50. Character B slipping their thigh between Character’s A’s legs with the intention of messing with them.

51. Character A grinding against Character B’s thigh and Character B responding by pressing their thigh firmer against Character A. 

52. The soft pleas and whimpers slipping out of Character A’s mouth as Character B quickens the thrusts of their fingers. 

53. “How are you feeling?” Character B would ask every now and then to make sure Character A’s comfortable and okay with what they’re doing, and the pace they’re going at. (This is ALWAYS so fucking sexy! Do this with your partner) 

54. Character B unbuttoning/unzipping Character A’s pants, in a tauntingly slow manner; slips their hand past the waist band of Character A’s pants whilst Character A squirms around a little, their heartbeat quickening in anticipation of what’s to come. (Uh, no pun intended???)

55. Taking a break in between each of their little sessions and cuddling with each other, and using those moments to check in on each other.

56. Character B stopping themselves from going further whenever they sense Character A getting a bit overwhelmed with everything that’s happening and making sure that they’re okay. (He just… He’s so caring and it’s so fucking sweet AHHHH) 

57. Character B’s ragged, laboured breathing in Character A’s ear as they fuck themselves against Character A, and Character A squeezing their biceps in encouragement; the soft pants from Character B and the whimpers and moans from Character A intermingling in the air.

58. Character A burying their face in Character B’s chest out of pure embarrassment after doing all of that, and Character B chuckling at them while cuddling them close to their chest, planting several kisses on their face. 

59. Character A’s clothing smelling like Character B’s because of how much they were all over each other, all day and night. 

60. Character A leaving Character B’s room with the messiest hair by the end of the night.

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3