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

[fireladyofink]

Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

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[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 20

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 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, drinking, angst, tension

I swallow hard, my pulse thudding in my ears. Every inch of me is hyper aware of him, his sun kissed skin, the faint scent of seasalt and sunscreen clinging to him, the way his fingers flex against the counter like he's holding himself back.

I wet my lips, watching as his gaze follows the movement. "Maybe I just wanted to make sure you were.. comfortable" I murmur.

Matt exhales a sharp breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "You're killing me, you know that?"

I smile, feeling bolder. "Good."

For a second, neither of us move. The tension is thick, electric in the space between us. Matt closes the distance before making his way down to my shoulder and then my chest, his fingers tugging at the hem of my bikini.

Matt unties my bikini top and tosses it aside before kissing me again, this time more roughly. Matt slips his hands under my hips and lifts me up, setting me on the counter. He steps in between my legs, his body pressing against mine.

His eyes trace over my body, before his lips work their way over to my neck, his tongue flicking out occasionally against my skin, until he reaches my tits. He takes one in his mouth while he fondles the other, occasionally switching while my breathing becomes more laboured.

Matt pushes me back onto the counter, as his hands slide down from my waist to my thighs, gripping them tightly as he holds my legs open, his thumb rubbing over my clit through my bikini fabric at an agonisingly slow pace.

Slight breathy groans leave my mouth, as Matt toys with the ties of my bikini bottoms, pulling them loose and allowing his finger to slip under it, letting him feel the heat he just created. He kisses my stomach, as I let out a light moan. 

“You’re teasing me Matt”

Matt looks up at me and without hesitation, shoves two fingers into me, allowing me to let out a louder moan. 

“Fuck Matttttt, that feels so good” I pant, as Matt picks up his pace, no time to ease me in, in all honestly with the way he was kissing me, I didn't need to be.

I squeeze my eyes shut, to try to allow myself to completely relax. I feel hair brushing off my stomach as a warm, wet sensation attaches onto my clit. Making my whole body buckle.

I look forward, and Matt's tongue is swirling around my sensitive bud as his fingers pulse inside of me. I grab onto his hair tightly as the knot in my stomach builds faster and faster.

“Don’t stop Matt I-I’m gonna-” I yell out as I knock my head back against the kitchen counter.

“Fuckkkk!” I moan as the knot in my stomach breaks, my body shudders as Matt removes himself from me. 

I sit up as I try to catch my breath back, surprised at how quick that was. I feel just as warm inside the villa as I did outside it. “Fuck I’ve never felt like that before.” I say shaking my head innocently as Matt smirks at me. 

“Glad I could do that for you." Matt says as his kisses my forehead before turning and heading toward the sink to wash his hands. "A sandwich will bring you back down to earth now”

“What happened to me helping you out?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

“Letting me pleasure you is all the help I need.” Matt grins. “And making you lunch will just top it all off.” He gestures vaguely toward the fridge. 

I exhale, steadying myself as I grab my bikini off the floor. "That’s okay I’ll get you back tonight.” I say as I lock eyes with Matt, giving him a smirk.

I take myself to the bathroom to fix myself and when I come back Matt has everything set up.

We move around the kitchen in sync, grabbing the bread, meat, and whatever else we can find that seems remotely sandwich worthy. Nick’s habit of stocking up on groceries during vacation finally pays off, and I make a mental note to thank him later.

Matt smirks as he spreads mayo onto a slice of bread. “Nick’s probably the only person I know who food shops on vacation.”

I laugh, stacking slices of turkey onto a random sandwich. “Honestly, it’s a lifesaver right now. Imagine if we had to go find a store?”

Matt groans. “Would’ve ruined the whole ‘sneaking off’ plan.”

I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips at the way he’s looking at me, like he’s still thinking about what just happened on the counter.

We finish making the sandwiches, eating ones for ourselves before stuffing the rest into a bag. Leaning against the counter, I take a bite, sighing happily. “Okay, maybe Nick really does deserve credit for this.”

Matt takes a big bite of his own sandwich, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, but we can’t tell him. He’ll get a big head about it.”

I giggle, nudging him lightly with my elbow.

Once we’ve finished eating, we grab the bag of sandwiches and head back down toward the beach. The sun is still high, the sand warm under our feet as we approach the group.

Nick spots us first, raising an eyebrow. “Took you guys long enough.”

“We were making food for all of you” I say, holding up the bag like a trophy.

Nate sits up from his lounger, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Wait, you actually made lunch? Thought you just wanted an excuse to sneak off.”

I roll my eyes, tossing him a sandwich. “You’re welcome.”

Matt flops down onto his lounger, throwing an arm over his face. “You guys are so ungrateful.”

Chris, still scrolling on his phone with his airpods in, grabs a sandwich without looking up.

Nick unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully before smirking. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll admit, this was a solid move. Maybe I’ll keep stocking the fridge after all.”

I grin, settling back onto my lounger, propping up the sun umbrella to cool down my sun warmed skin. 

Chris stretches lazily on his lounger, finally putting his phone down and glancing around at all of us. “We haven’t hit a nightclub since we got here.”

Nate hums in agreement, sipping his water bottle. “True. We’ve been to a few bars but nothing too crazy.”

Chris sits up straighter, his sunglasses pushing up into his hair. “Let’s go out tonight. Order in, have some drinks at the villa, then hit the club. Go all out.”

Nick immediately nods. “I’m in. We need a proper night out.”

Nate grins. “You just want an excuse to text that guy and get him to meet you there.”

Nick throws his crust at him. “Mind your business.”

I glance at Matt, who’s already looking at me. “What do you think?” he asks, tilting his head.

I shrug, pretending to consider it. “A club does sound fun.”

Chris claps his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Matt smirks but says nothing, just leaning back on his lounger.

Nick sits up, already pulling out his phone. “Alright, I’ll see what food we can order for later. What are we thinking? Pizza again?”

We all groan at the idea of more pizza.

“No more pizza” I say, shaking my head. “We’ve had enough of that.”

Nick nods. “Something different, then. We’ll figure it out later.”

Chris claps his hands again, excitement clearly setting in. “Alright, settled. Tonight, we party.”

I lean back on my lounger, stretching my legs out. The ocean breeze is warm, and the thought of a night out makes excitement bubble up inside me.

Nick is glued to his phone, his lips twitching in amusement as his fingers fly across the screen. I nudge his arm.

"What's he saying?" I ask, peering over his shoulder.

Nick barely glances up. "He just asked where we're heading tonight."

I grin, nudging him again. "Well, tell him we're going to the nightclub. Give him a chance to show up."

Nick hesitates for a second before rolling his eyes. "You’re really invested in my love life, huh?"

"Absolutely" I tease. "Someone has to be."

Matt chuckles from his lounger, leaning back on his elbows. "She’s got a point. You might as well shoot your shot, man."

Nick sighs dramatically but types out the message anyway. "Fine. But if this goes terribly, I’m blaming you."

I hold up my hands. "Hey, if it goes terribly, at least it’ll be entertaining for the rest of us."

Nate, overhearing, smirks. "Yeah, and if it goes well, we’ll give you so much shit about it."

Nick groans. "I hate all of you."

I just laugh, watching as he hits send. Tonight was already shaping up to be an interesting one.

The sun was beginning its slow descent. We had spent most of the afternoon in and out of the water, sprawled out on the loungers, soaking in the sun, and laughing over the stupidest things. 

Matt was next to me on the sand, his arms resting on his bent knees as he traced patterns into the grains with his fingers. 

"You good?" he asked, catching me staring.

I smiled, shrugging. "Yeah, just taking it all in."

He smirked, nudging me with his knee. "You look happy."

I bit my lip, feeling a warmth rise in me that had nothing to do with the sun. "I am."

He nodded, as if he already knew. Then, without saying anything else, he grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. It was subtle, nothing dramatic, but enough to send a wave of electricity through me.

We sat there like that for a while, letting the sounds of the ocean and the distant conversations of the others fill the silence. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that before someone called out.

"Alright, let’s head back!" Chris announced, stretching his arms over his head. "Sun’s going down, and we’ve got a big night ahead."

Reluctantly, I stood, brushing off the sand before Matt and I followed the rest of the group toward the villa. The walk back was easy, everyone still in that post beach daze, the kind where your skin feels warm and tight from the sun and the exhaustion starts to creep in.

Chris walked ahead, scrolling through his phone before glancing back at us. "I’m posting pictures from the shoot" he said casually. "Gotta get that early promo going."

As we reached the villa, my phone buzzed in my hand, the familiar Instagram notification lighting up my screen. I glanced at Matt, who had just pulled his own phone out, both of us seeing the same thing, Chris had just posted the photos from the shoot.

Clicking into the post, I scrolled through the slides until I found it, the shot of Matt and I standing side by side, both in our near matching jackets. The way the photo was framed, the way we naturally leaned slightly toward each other, made it look effortless.

I barely had time to process it before I saw Matt hit the repost button, adding the photo to his story without hesitation. He hovered for a second, as if considering adding something, then let it go up as it was.

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. "So, you’re just gonna post that without acknowledging the fact that I know you picked it all out yourself?"

His brows lifted slightly, but his lips curled into a grin. "Oh yeah? And what exactly do you think you know?"

I crossed my arms, tilting my head at him. "I don’t think, I know. Chris can’t hold his piss."

Matt glanced at me, pretending to be clueless. “What do you mean?”

I scoffed, giving him a look. “Matt. You picked everything out. The jacket. The number. My initial. Are you really gonna act like that was some random coincidence?”

He exhaled a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean.. it worked, didn’t it?”

I narrowed my eyes. “So, you are admitting it.”

He hesitated for a beat, then finally shrugged. “I wanted it to feel right.” His voice was quieter now, more honest. “Like.. if I was gonna do it, I wanted it to actually mean something.”

I stared at him, my heart doing this weird, unsteady thing in my chest. Chris had already spilled it ot me, but hearing him say it out loud made it different. It wasn’t just something he threw together. He thought about it.

I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice light. “So what? you wanted us to match so bad?”

Matt smirked slightly but didn’t break eye contact. “Maybe.” A pause settled between us. “Or maybe It was the only way I could express my feelings for you without admitting it.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flip. I rolled my eyes, shoving him lightly before turning to the stairs. “You’re unbelievable.”

He followed beside me, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Yeah, but you like it.”

I didn’t say anything. But I didn’t deny it either.

We all split off to our rooms for showers, to get rid of the suncream and random pieces of sand. We all hoped the showers would wake us up so we don’t need to nap.

After showering, I step back into my room, styling my hair first before I root out the outfit I’d decided on earlier. I can hear doors opening and closing, muffled conversations, the occasional blast of music as someone picks their getting ready playlist. I slip into my outfit, taking my time with my makeup, wanting to feel my best tonight.

As I swipe on my lip gloss, there’s a knock at my door. “What do you want to eat?” Nick’s voice comes through as he pokes his head in.

I glance up, setting my lip gloss down. “What are we getting?”

“Anything. I’m just taking orders, gonna get it all delivered.”

I think for a second before shrugging. “Surprise me”

Nick smirks. “Dangerous game. You might end up with something weird.”

I roll my eyes. “I trust you.”

He disappears down the hall, moving from room to room, taking everyone’s orders. The house slowly settles into that familiar pre night out routine, hairdryers whirling, perfume and cologne lingering in the air, someone’s speaker playing a mix of throwbacks and current songs.

By the time the food arrives, I’m fully ready, my hair styled, outfit on, makeup done. We all gather outside, taking seats around the villa’s patio table as the smell of takeout fills the air.

Nate digs into his food immediately, barely waiting for everyone to get their plates, while Chris argues with Nick over who ordered the better meal. Matt slides into the seat next to me, his knee brushing mine under the table, sending a small jolt of warmth through me.

After finishing our food, we linger outside for a while, chatting and letting the night settle in around us. Nick turns up the speaker, filling the space with music. With full stomachs and the excitement of the night ahead, we move back inside to start drinking and getting into the mood for the club.

Chris takes over DJ duties, queueing up a mix of songs that get everyone hyped. Nate and Nick are already a few drinks deep, laughing at everything, while Matt leans against the counter next to me, his arm brushing mine every so often. I sip on my drink, feeling the buzz start to settle in, warmth spreading through my body.

As the night goes on, everyone starts to loosen up, Nick dramatically lip syncs to songs, Chris hypes him up. We’re all dancing around the villa, singing along to every song, taking random pictures, and just enjoying ourselves.

By the time 11pm rolls around, we’re all buzzing with energy. Chris checks his phone. “Alright, let’s get moving”

Everyone scrambles to grab last minute things, phones, wallets, extra spritzes of perfume or cologne. I check myself in the mirror once more before heading to the door.

“Everyone good?” Matt asks, making sure we’re all set before we leave.

We pile into an Uber and make our way to the club, everyone on the brink of being drunk. The streets are alive, groups of people heading in the same direction as us, laughter and music filling the air. Excitement bubbles up in my chest as I look around at my friends, knowing the night is only just beginning. How lucky I am to share these moments with them.

We step into the club and the place is already packed, bodies moving in sync with the music, laughter and conversation barely audible over the sound.

I nudge Nick. “Is he coming?”

He nods, a smirk playing on his lips. “He said he’d be here, so we’ll see what happens.”

I grin. “Exciting. You nervous?”

“Please” Nick scoffs. “He should be nervous to see me.”

We exchange a laugh, and before we can even think too much about it, “ExtraL” by JENNIE and Doechii starts to play. 

That’s our cue.

We don’t waste time and instantly make our way to the dance floor. The music pulses through my body as we move, completely lost in the moment. 

At some point, the rest of the boys slipped away, and when I look over toward the DJ booth, I realise why. They’ve somehow managed to get us a table right next to it, complete with a bottle of vodka and mixers waiting.

Chris waves us over, motioning to the table. “We’re up tonight” he grins, already pouring drinks.

I slide in next to Matt, his hand finding the small of my back. I glance up at him, and the strobe lights flicker across his face, making his eyes seem even brighter.

“You good?” he asks, leaning in slightly so I can hear him over the music.

I nod. “Very.”

I’m not sure if it’s the club, the drinks, or just the feeling of being in our own little world, but I know one thing. I’m ready for whatever the night has in store.

Nick suddenly stiffens beside me, his eyes flickering toward the entrance before he straightens his shirt and fixes his hair in a way that’s meant to be casual but is anything but. I follow his gaze and immediately see a guy making his way through the crowd toward us.

“Is that him?” I whisper, nudging Nick with my elbow.

Nick exhales quickly, composing himself before smirking. “Yeah it is.”

Nick waves the guy over to our booth and he approaches us, a confident but easygoing smile on his face. He’s tall, well dressed, and looks older than Nick, “Nick” he greets, his voice barely audible over the music.

Nick tilts his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “You made it.”

“I said I would” the guy replies, his eyes flicking over to me briefly before returning to Nick.

Nick introduces everyone to the guy and tells him all of our names. We share pleasantries to try and make him feel comfortable. He slides in next to Nick seamlessly joining our conversation. He’s got that easy charm about him, fitting in as if he’s known us for years. We chat for a while, mostly teasing Nick, who’s pretending not to be flustered but is failing miserably. 

Chris suddenly stands up mid conversation, adjusting his shirt. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Matt and I both turn to look at him. “Where are you going?” I ask, but Chris just gives me a vague smirk before disappearing into the crowd of people on the dance floor. 

After a few minutes, the guy leans in closer to Nick and says something that makes him laugh. Nick shakes his head, but I can tell he’s enjoying the attention. “Alright, let’s go get a shot, lead the way.”

I watch as they disappear toward the bar, turning to Matt with an amused look. “He’s so into Nick”

Matt chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me in closer. “Yeah, but do you think Nick’s into him?”

I glance back at the two of them, already deep in conversation, Nick laughing at something the guy said. “Oh, 100%.”

Nate chimes in “I hope this goes well for him.” As he pours drinks, handing us each one. 

“So do I” I say, taking a sip of my drink.

Matt and I are sitting close, closer than we probably realize, his arm draped casually along the back of the booth, his knee knocking lightly against mine. There’s this natural pull between us, one that feels impossible to ignore.

I just want to be all over him right now. Maybe return the favour later.

Chris returns to the booth, but he’s not alone. Two girls trail behind him, both dressed to kill, their eyes scanning our group as they approach. Chris gestures between them like he’s presenting a prize.

“This is Rachel” he says, nodding toward the girl in a tight red dress. Then, he motions to the brunette next to her. “And this is Christina.”

The second the name leaves his lips, my stomach drops. Christina. As in Vegas Christina?

Matt stiffens beside me, his fingers gripping tighter against his glass. I glance at him, my pulse kicking up, but his face is unreadable.

I shift my attention back to the girl, studying her. She’s exactly how I thought she would look. Long brown hair, sharp cheekbones, an effortless confidence in the way she carries herself. She’s looking at Matt now, and something in her expression makes my blood boil.

Chris, oblivious or maybe just entertained by the sudden tension, speaks up. “Figured I’d fly them out. Thought you’d wanna catch up, Matt.”

Matt finally speaks, voice smooth but firm. “Didn’t think I had anything left to catch up on.”

Christina’s lips twitch, like she was expecting that response. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

I don’t know what she means by that, but I really don’t like the way she says it.

My mind is racing. I know things have happened between Matt and Christina before, he’s never denied that. But Matt told me himself that he hasn’t been with anyone since that night in the house. And Vegas was after that, so.. surely not.

Still, the way she looks at him, the confidence in her tone, it’s messing with my head.

I glance at Matt, but his expression is carefully neutral. Chris, meanwhile, is grinning like he’s watching the most entertaining scene unfold, completely oblivious to the tension he’s just ignited.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Nate shifting uncomfortably, looking just as out of place in this situation as I feel. Our eyes meet, and without a word, he tilts his head toward the bar before mouthing the word. “Shot?”

It’s exactly what I need right now.

I nod, pushing up from the booth. “We’re getting a drink” I say to no one in particular, but Matt’s gaze flicks to me immediately.

“Want me to come?”

I shake my head, forcing a small smile. “I’m good.”

I need a second to breathe, to process whatever the hell this is before I let it get to me. Because right now? It’s definitely getting to me.

Nate follows behind me to the bar before ordering two shots of Sambuca. Nate slides the shot toward me, watching as I pick it up. “You good?”

I exhale, rolling the glass between my fingers before finally throwing it back. The burn of the shot matching the burn in my chest. “Yeah. It’s just.. a weird situation.”

He leans against the bar, arms crossed. “What's making you feel weird?”

I set the shot glass down, sighing. “I know he's been with her before Nate. But Matt told me he hasn’t been with anyone since right before you came to stay, so I know nothing happened in Vegas. But still.. it’s just weird seeing her here.”

Nate nods, considering that. “I don’t think Chris has any clue what’s going on between you two” he says after a beat. “If he did, he wouldn’t have invited Christina out.”

I run a hand through my hair, stealing a glance back toward the booth. Matt’s eyes are already on me, his jaw tight, like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do. Christina is talking to Chris, but she’s angled slightly toward Matt, like she’s waiting for an opening.

I turn back to Nate. “Let’s do another shot.”

He grins, signaling to the bartender. “Now you’re talking.”

As we make our way back to the booth, I immediately notice that Chris and Matt are gone. Nate clocks it too, but neither of us say anything. Instead, we’re left to take the only open seats. Nate slides in next to Rachel, leaving me no choice but to sit beside Christina.

She shifts slightly as I settle beside her, turning just enough to face me. Her perfectly lined lips curl into a smirk, and I already know whatever is about to come out of her mouth isn’t going to be pleasant.

“So” she starts, dragging out the word, her nails tapping against her glass. “You and Matt are, what? Friends?”

I keep my expression neutral. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Funny. I just didn’t expect him to be the type for.. complicated situations.”

I raise a brow. “Complicated how?”

Her smirk widens, like she’s enjoying this. “Well, we do have history. I just assumed if he was seeing someone, he would’ve told me.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. So this is what we’re doing.

“I don’t think Matt owes you an update on his personal life” I say smoothly, taking a sip of my drink.

Christina lets out a light laugh “Oh, It’s just.. you know how it is when you have that kind of connection with someone. Some things never really go away.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but Christina doesn’t stop there.

“Vegas was.. unforgettable” she says, swirling the ice in her drink. 

I refuse to give her the reaction she’s looking for, so I nod casually. “Oh yeah? How was it?”

She tilts her head, almost throwing me a pitiful look. “Oh Y/n I can’t spare you the details! You know what they say. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

That’s it. That’s my final straw.

I feel my stomach twist, my chest tightening in that way that tells me I’m two seconds away from either snapping or letting this whole night ruin me. And I won’t give her the satisfaction of either.

I put my drink down, pushing it away from me. The last thing I need is more alcohol fueling whatever emotions are bubbling to the surface.

Nate notices my change in demeanour. “You good?”

I nod quickly, already standing up. “Yeah, just..just gonna head back to the villa.”

He watches me carefully. “Want me to come with you?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay.” 

“Nope, not happening” he says, standing up and walking toward me leaving the two girls behind us. “First off, I’m not letting you leave here alone, and second, I’m not staying with those two either.”

I let out a breath, not wanting to argue. “Fine” I say, and we start weaving through the club toward the exit.

Just as we’re near the door, I catch movement in the corner of my eye, Matt and Chris. They’re standing near the bar, mid conversation, but their heads turn in sync when they see us leaving.

For a split second, I think Matt might step forward, might ask where I’m going or what’s wrong. But he doesn’t. And I don’t stop either.

I don’t even get to say goodbye to Nick, who’s completely wrapped up with the guy from earlier.

I just step out into the warm night air with Nate, leaving it all behind.

Nate and I get to the villa in silence, the quiet settling around us in stark contrast to the volume of the club we just left. I pull my phone out of my purse the second we’re inside, checking my notifications. Nothing from Matt.

Wow. Is that really how it is?

Anger rises in my chest, hot and sharp. It’s not even about Christina anymore, it’s about the fact that I walked out of there, and he didn’t even bother to check in. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t feel like this. 

But I do.

And that’s exactly why it stings.

I let out a frustrated breath, holding the power button on my phone until the screen goes black. If he’s not going to message me, I don’t even want to give myself the chance to sit here and wait for it. I just need to sleep this off.

“The sooner I sleep” I mutter to myself, slipping my shoes off, “the faster this night will be over.”

And with that, I take myself to bed and pass out.

Hours later, I’m jolted awake by the sound of my bedroom door bursting open. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest as Nick stumbles inside, completely unbothered by the fact that he just rudely woke me up. Sunlight is already creeping through the curtains, and I instinctively reach for my phone, turning it on to check the time.

7am.

I groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before looking at Nick, who’s swaying slightly where he stands. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair a mess, and his eyes are heavy lidded, but he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” I mumble, still groggy. Then, as I properly take in his state, realisation hits me. “Wait, are you still drunk?”

Nick pauses, squinting as if he’s actually trying to figure it out. “Not completely.. The hangover is starting to kick in already.”

I sigh. “Where the hell were you?”

He grins wider, dropping onto the end of my bed dramatically. “I went back to his place.”

I laugh at Nick, shaking my head. "Did you have fun at least?"

He grins, flopping onto my bed dramatically. "I did. I really like him."

I smile at that. "Good. But you need sleep, Nick. You’re barely sitting up."

Nick groans but nods, and as I help him up, he leans on me slightly. "Walk me to my room?"

I sigh but hook my arm through his anyway, guiding him down the hallway. "Come on, lightweight."

We're almost at his door when, suddenly, he perks up with a mischievous glint in his tired eyes. "Wait! Let’s say hi to Matt!"

I barely get the words "No, Nick, let’s not-" out before he’s already reaching for Matt’s door handle.

Everything happens too fast. The door swings open.

And then I see it.

Long brown hair fanned out on the pillow. A bare shoulder peeking from under the sheets.

A girl. 

In Matt’s bed.

Christina.

a/n : what else did you expect from part 20 fr (dont kill me pls)

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[schlattsdarling]

Promt List !!

Send me as many requests at you want, if you want smut or have a plot in mind, tell me!

Fluff

1. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

2. "Is that my shirt?"

3. "We'd make such a cute couple.

4. "Are you flirting with me?"

5. "Well, since you aren't feeling too good,

maybe this could help?"

6. "I could kiss you right now.

7. "You gave it your best shot. That's all

anyone could ever ask of you.

8. "Can we just stay in bed?"

9. "Let me kiss it better."

10. "Stop moving I'm almost done!"

11. "You look like shit."

12. "Just pretend to be my date."

13. "You came." "You called.'

14. "I'm right here."

15. "| like you just the way you are.

16. "Please, stay.'

17. "You owe me a favour."

'Can I ask you a favour?"

19. "Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

20. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

21. "Can I come over?"

22. "Why don't you take a picture? It' last

longer."

23. "That is by far the stupidest thing you've

ever done."

24. "How much did you drink?"

25. "How drunk was I?"

26. "You make me want to be better."

27. "Come back to bed."

28. "You're lucky I love you."

29. "You kissed me last night.

30. "They're coming. Kiss me!"

31. "I really need you right now.

32. "Wanna bet?"

33. "Let me take care of you."

34. "Say that again? But slower."

35. "Going somewhere?"

36. "I heard that!"

37. "Why are you awake?"

38. "This isn't what it looks like!"

39. "Go to sleep."

Angst

40. "Is this the end? After everything we've

been through?"

41. "We shouldn't be doing this."

42. "I needed you, and you weren't there!'

43. "You're always leaving me.

44. "Why do you hate me so much?"

45. "The fuck was that?"

46. "It's not you that I don't trust, it's them."

47. "Can you please come get me?"

48. "lIl stay as long as you need.

49. "Ssshh, it's okay, l've got you.

50. "I don't deserve you.

51. "We used to spend every day together.

Are you telling me that staying the night in

the same place is too close a proximity for us

to share?"

52. "Maybe the fact that we have such a hard

time staying away from each other is saying

something."

53. "I thought we were more than whatever..

this is. But clearly, I was wrong.

54. "Why can't you admit to anything? This

is your fault!"

55. "What are we?"

56. "Things would be fine if you didn't go

and run your mouth!

57. "I didn't know you felt this way.

58. "Do you know how stupid you made me

feel?"

59. "Why don't you love me back?" "You're

drunk, let's get you home."

60. "I don't think I can do this anymore. Not

with you."

61. "I'm not allowed to be upset because

they were hanging all over you?"

62. "You're supposed to be mine!"

63. "I'm not jealous, fuck off."

64. "Don't cause a scene, please.'

65. "| didn't mean to fall in love with you,

really didn't and I'm sorry."

66. "I don't want to be the second option

anymore."

67. "| will always find you."

[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.

[vampzity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ꒰ 14 DAYS OF KINKS ꒱ ˚₊‧✩ ੈ‧

[ DISCLAIMER: ] MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! All content under this event/masterlist is STRICTLY NSFW! Minors will be blocked!!! All stories are written with a fem character!

This is simply a timeline of events! Days can be subject to change :) You will find OT8 ateez & some stray kids members! I’m still working on writing skz so that is why all the members aren’t here yet I’m vv sorry :’D

⭐️: author’s favorite

🍓: fan favorite

[ DAY 1 ━━ VIBRATORS WITH WOOYOUNG ] <1.1k>

Watching a movie with your boyfriend sounds a normal task right? Not when your new toy comes into play. Every time you lose focus of the movie, he’ll stop, but when you pay attention the speed only intensifies.

[ DAY 2 ━━ VOYUERISM WITH HAN ] <2.1k> ⭐️🍓

han comes home and hears sounds coming from your room, only to sneak a peek of you touching yourself. so, he watches from the door, trying not to get caught as he gets himself off.

[ DAY 3 ━━ DACRYPHILIA WITH BANGCHAN ] <1.7k> ⭐️🍓

after teasing him through the entire dinner, chan decides to show you what whining really gets you. now you have no choice but to whine at his mercy.

[ DAY 4 ━━ BLINDFOLDS WITH YEOSANG ] <1.6k> ⭐️

you and yeosang decide to spice your sex life up with the tease of a blindfold. you’re touching him, kissing him all over until he’s practically begging for you to let him burst.

[ DAY 5 ━━ FACE RIDING WITH FELIX ] <1.4k> 🍓

felix is so desperate to feel and taste you, to the point where he’s begging you to suffocate him once he when he sees you in that dress. all he wants is to make you feel pretty once before you go.

[ DAY 6 ━━ PILLOW HUMPING WITH YUNHO ] <1.6k> ⭐️🍓

getting your boyfriend’s attention is hard when he’s so busy with his game. you can’t bare to wait any longer, so you resort to humping a pillow in hopes of getting his attention. only now, he’s watching you while you sit there in embarrassment.

[ DAY 7 ━━ SPANKING WITH JONGHO ] <1.8k>

jongho comes home and catches you trying to get off after a week of him being away on a business trip. look at you, so desperate and needy. you couldn’t wait for him to come relieve you? now you sit there, struggling not to make a sound. every time you do, the smacks get harder.

[ DAY 8 ━━ MARKING WITH JEONGIN ] <2k> ⭐️

Jeongin can’t seem to take his eyes off of your body. the way it walked through the halls of your shared apartment, the way you looked so frail in his clothing, even how his arms wrapped around your body. he wanted to eat you and tear you apart. make sure you knew that you belonged to him.

[ DAY 9 ━━ BONDAGE WITH CHANGBIN ] <1.5k>

a little bondage never hurt anyone right? how arousing it must be to have your hands tied behind your back while being fucked like he hasn’t seen you in weeks. oh right, he hasn’t!

[ DAY 10 ━━ COCK WARMING WITH SAN ] <1.9k> ⭐️🍓

while stuck in a winterstorm you decide to keep yourself busy by doing your makeup. of course the two of you make sure to keep the heat on, but san can’t help but want more of your sweet warmth.

[ DAY 11 ━━ SOMNOPHILIA WITH SEONGHWA ] <1.8k> ⭐️🍓

you wake up, restless and needy but still want your pretty boyfriend to get his rest. it won’t hurt to ride him softly while he sleeps right? as long as you stay quiet?

[ DAY 12 ━━ PHONE SEX WITH BANGCHAN ] <1.4k> 🍓

after a long day of work bangchan just wants to relax, but all he can think about is you. he tries to get off only to get a call from you and your complaints about the day you had. your voice turns him on, makes him greedy for you more than before. it’s such a rush getting off to the person who hasn’t got a slightest clue.

[ DAY 13 ━━ BREEDING KINK WITH MINGI ] <1.5k> 🍓

after a long day of baby sitting your niece, mingi can’t help but think what it would be like to see you with a child of his own. to have a mini him running around bothering you… to have you filled with him to the point where it spills out of you.

[ DAY 14 ━━ NUDES WITH HONGJOONG ] <1.3k> ⭐️

your boredom only worsens while hongjoong is working in the studio, leading you to tease him with spicy “i miss you” photos. who knew how needy your boyfriend could be for you that he’d get off right there in his own workplace.

★ BONUS DAYS ★

i’ve decided to collect some spicy twt links for you all hehe 🤭 if you’re comfortable with nsfw links then click away! if not, then that’s ok! this is simply a thank you to everyone who has supported this lovely event and my acc overall! <33

[ DAY 15 ━━ NSFW LINKS: ATZ HYUNG LINE ]

members: seonghwa, hongjoong, yunho, & yeosang

[ DAY 16 ━━ NSFW LINKS: ATZ MAKNAE LINE ]

members: san, mingi, wooyoung & jongho

[ DAY 17 ━━ NSFW LINKS: SKZ HYUNG LINE ]

members: bangchan, lee know, changbin, & hyunjin

[ DAY 18 ━━ NSFW LINKS: SKZ MAKNAE LINE ]

members: han, felix, seungmin & jeongin

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @h4untedgrl @rvereri @scarfac3 @jjongibears @kittykat-25 @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @tiredlittlevirgo @joonezra @honeyhwaaa @evidive @potentialgay @dollywoo @losrpark @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ve4ble @sojuxxi @felixleftchickennugget

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[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 14.

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, mentions of rape and abuse, marking, trauma symptoms, trust issues

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: Y'all I'm back from the beach all crispy and tanned. Finally found some time and inspiration to continue this.

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

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first day, y/n didn't leave the tent because of spite (and the immense pain that radiated off the wound in pulsating waves). The second day, she didn't leave the bed cause she felt as if she'd faint if she tried to get up. By the third day, y/n developed a fever that made it impossible for her to move at all.

Katsuki watches over her with a worried gaze. He's in and out of their shared tent trying to balance his business and his mate. He orders the healers to have a close look at her. When the head healer comes to speak with him while he’s fulfilling his duty, he knows that something is wrong.

“The infection spread. She’s having a high fever. I’ve already sent some of our men to look for fresh herbs to make a fever-reducing medicine, but that can only help so much. We will be giving her cool calf compresses throughout the night. You might want to stay with her tonight.”, the healer explains.

Katsuki feels as if his heart stopped for a millisecond. He only gives the healer a short nod. It might seem cold and emotionless towards others, but the truth is that Katsuki doesn’t trust his voice.

After that, he adjourns the meeting with his men and returns to y/n’s bedside. Some healers are busily swirling around the small tent, soaking cloths in cold water and pulling them around y/n’s legs. 

Katsuki delicately holds y/n’s hand as if her hand would turn to dust like a dried flower when you crunch it too hard. He stares at her chest which heavily goes up and down. Despite her obvious troubled breathing, y/n barely lets out a sound. He’d take her yelling at him over this eery silence any day.

“Bakugou.”, a voice rips him out of his thoughts. Kirishima stands at the entrance of the tent. When Katsuki gives him a sign, Kirishima carefully enters his leader’s private quarter.

“How is she?”, Kirishima asks carefully standing behind him. Katsuki doesn’t turn around to meet his eye. 

“The fever’s bad but the healers are working on it.”, he tells him.

Kirishima stays silent. Katsuki does not need to explain y/n’s condition further. Fevers are tricky things. They come in slowly and when they hit, they’re hard to get under control. Katsuki’s own father perished due to the same infection that took out most of his tribe’s women. He understands better than anyone just how quickly a simple infection can take someone’s life.

“She will pull through.”, Kirishima encourages him. Katsuki’s lips form a firm line. When Katsuki doesn’t answer, he adds: “That one is a strong one. She’s a fighter”.

“So was my father. So were many of our women.”, Katsuki tells him.

“This is not the same, you know that. They were sick and y/n has only an infected wound.”, Kirishima points out.

“And how many warriors have we lost because of that?”, Katsuki presses. Kirishima stays silent. He wishes his leader would be less of a realist sometimes. It’d be easier to cheer him up in dark moments.

The entrance of the tent is moved once again and Mitsuki enters. She gives the healers and Kirishima a sign to leave her alone with her son.

“Have you come to gloat, mother?”, Katsuki bites venomously. Mitsuki gives him a long, unidentifiable look.

“I do not wish this upon you or… her.”, Mitsuki says. Katsuki doesn’t look at his mother either. Instead, he observes how y/n’s eyelashes cast a slim shadow onto her undereyes.

Mitsuki sighs deeply and sits down next to him.

“Son… I know how you feel. Remember, I’ve lost your father the same way.”, she reminds him. When Katsuki doesn’t answer her, she continues.

“Maybe it was inevitable. We’ve lost other women before her. These women you bring in are not suited for life in the mountains. They’re often too weak to survive the harsh winters out here. It’s not their fault their bodies are weak. They do not carry the same hot blood as we do. The blood that also makes our wounds heal faster.”, Mitsuki tells him.

“Others survived the mating. So will she.”, Katsuki says determinedly. It’s something he’s not sure of, something he didn’t even believe only seconds ago when Kirishima pointed out the same thing. Maybe he's just saying it to defy his mother. He’s aware of how fragile y/n is compared to women of his tribe. It’s why he fears the worst.

Mitsuki looks at her son for a long time before putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, I know this is not what you wished for, but maybe it’s for the best.”, she tells him. Harshly Katsuki yanks his shoulder back and shoves her hand away.

“That my mate dies days after she became mine? How is that for the best?”, Katsuki whisper-yells. The healers must still be outside the tent.

Mitsuki pulls back her arm. “She’s not suited for this life, to be a strong leader by your side. It’s best that it happens so early before you’re too attached to her.”, Mitsuki says compassionately and it just makes Katsuki just more angry.

“If she dies, I will not take another mate. As it is custom.”, Katsuki harshly points out.

“In our situation, no one would question you breaking traditions.”, Mitsuki replies.

“I don’t care.”, Katsuki barks and grips y/n’s hand tighter. There’s no one else for him besides her. He made his choice, he knew the implications.

Mitsuki sighs and gets up. “We’ll see.”, she only says calmly and turns around to exit the tent leaving Katsuki alone sitting at y/n’s side.

~*~*~*~

Everything lies in a hazy fog. Y/n is sure she can make out Katsuki's face in her distorted vision. Something hot runs through her stomach. Is it anger? She can't remember what she should be angry about. Then maybe, she's wrong. Her vision fades and Katsuki's face becomes blurred. Maybe it was never Katsuki to begin with?

„Brother!“, y/n calls out through the mist.

Is he here? Has he come to take her home? Back to mother and father and their little wagon in the woods?

Soft voices reach her ears. The strum of a guitar is somewhere far away alongside a soft voice. A familiar melody comes forward in her consciousness. Her tongue feels heavy as she tries to sing alongside her mother's lullaby.

Someone strokes over her hot, wet forehead.

„It's alright little one. Rest now.“, her father's voice says close to her ear. Relief floods her anxious thoughts and y/n relaxes. I'm safe, y/n thinks.

„Don't worry, my love.“, her mother says from her other side, „It's just a cold. You've played too long in the snow with your brother.“

Right, of course. Y/n remembers. It snowed in the night and y/b/n and her snuck out of the tent before their parents woke up. They built a snowman and made snow angels. When her mother saw the two of them barefoot in the snow, she shooed them back inside and made them sit by the fire with a blanket and a hot cup of tea. Y/n fell asleep on her brother's shoulder.

Y/n leans into the hand that strokes her forehead.

„Brother, stay with me.“, she begs but she isn't sure if she only says it in her head. Dirty blonde hair shuffles through her hazy vision. Someone holds her hand. Y/n lets out a shaky breath.

It's alright. Y/b/n is here. You're safe., she thinks as she fades into a dream of snow-capped forests, frozen lakes and her brother's laugh in the distance.

~*~*~*~

Kirishima watches his leader with worried eyes. Y/n has been drifting in and out of consciousness all night. The moments that she's been awake a dull haze covered her eyes. She's been trying to speak but the words hardly leave her throat.

The hazier her gaze gets, the glossier Katsuki's gaze becomes.

Kirishima places a hand on his friend's shoulders. There's not much they can do right now. The healers are still changing the calf compresses every ten minutes or so, trying to cool down her body as much as possible. Behind Katsuki's back, the head healer told him that y/n either makes it through the night and will live or not. Kirishima didn't have the heart to tell his friend, but he's sure Katsuki knows without anybody telling him.

Y/n lets out a shaky breath and tears shimmer in her eyes. She calls out a name. She's been repeating the name for some time now. Katsuki just holds her hand a bit tighter.

„I think it's her brother.“, Kirishima tries to calm his friend, „I don't know much of her language but I think she's been saying the word for brother earlier“.

„I didn't even know she had a brother“, Katsuki says quietly.

„Maybe he isn't with her anymore. When the veil between the living and the dead is thin for a person, they often call out to those that went before them.“, Kirishima offers and almost instantly regrets bringing up death in front of his friend.

„Or maybe I ripped her away from him and now she has to die alone surrounded by strangers.“, Katsuki flatly points out.

For a moment, Kirishima doesn't know what to say. Of course, that's a possibility too. But until now that has never mattered when they took women. The survival of their tribe always came first for Katsuki. He didn't think much about the women's families. Kirishima was never sure whether Katsuki was so cold that he didn't care or if Katsuki didn't allow himself to care about it because it was expected from the leader of the tribe.

„Promise her to find him.“, Kirishima says without thinking. Katsuki turns his head back to him.

„What?“, he asks and Kirishima only nods. He doesn't offer his leader an explanation. Katsuki turns his head back to y/n and stares at her struggling form for a while before ordering Kirishima to leave them. Wordlessly, Kirishima leaves the tent.

Katsuki takes a long look at y/n before taking her hunting knife that she always keeps close. Carefully, he cuts a fine line into the inside of his hand. He watches the blood pushing through the cut. He takes a long look at y/n's face before pressing his bloody hand to her heart.

„If you survive tonight, I, Katsuki Bakugou, son of Masaru and Mitsuki Bakugou, promise to find y/b/n and to let you go with him if you so please.“

~*~*~*~

There's the faint sound of metal hitting against each other and men clamoring in the distance but the tent lies in absolute silence. Y/n struggles to regain her vision for a couple of moments. She's feeling groggy and terrible. For a split second, she believes she's in her parent's tent.

Then, she remembers where she is. This is Katsuki's tent. Her head throbs from the lack of water. Her hand flies to her forehead and she puts it over her eyes in an attempt to milder the hammering feeling in her head.

She's been sick. She remembers waking up multiple times. She remembers waking up to unknown men pouring a thick, bitter fluid down her throat and a cool piece of cloth placed onto her head. She remembers waking up to Katsuki leaning over her watching her with furrowed, worried eyes. She remembers her brother's face in her periphery. Y/n wonders how much time has passed since Katsuki cleaned her wound. And for a very short moment, she wonders if her brother actually found her.

Quickly, she discards the idea. It was probably a fever dream. Something her imagination came up with in an attempt to calm her struggling body and mind. Y/n feels hot tears burning behind her eyes at the thought making her head feel worse.

Her hand flies to her throat where the wound is still wrapped in a tight bandage. She realizes that her head feels worse than the wound. Actually, she barely feels the wound at all. She wonders if it healed or if everything else just feels worse.

Groaning, y/n tries to sit up. I need water, she thinks. When she moves, there's a twitch of a body at her side. Only then she notices Katsuki who lies next to her face down. He's clutching her other hand. Katsuki groans and turns over letting go of her hand. Quickly, y/n pulls it away from him.

Katsuki stretches and turns his head to her.

When he notices that y/n is awake, he jerks up. His head spins for a moment from getting up too quickly. Immediately he sits up and pulls y/n close. He hides his face in her hair. Y/n let it happen and suddenly her heart feels heavy with grief. Grief, that her brother isn't here, that she's still stuck here, and that Katsuki hurt her when she was ready to trust him all the way.

It's impossible to hold back tears anymore and they stream down her cheeks and onto Katsuki's arm as he holds her. She wants to push him away but at the same time, she longs for the warmth and comfort Katsuki offers her right now. She wants to be held, wants him to pet her hair and tell her everything will be alright. And most importantly, she wants to believe him.

When y/n looks up, Katsuki is watching her with sorrowful eyes. Carefully, he wipes some tears away and his gaze falls onto the bandage on her throat. Softly, he traces the wound beneath the bandage and then carefully leans closer. Y/n's breath hitches a bit but she's too weak to pull back. Softly, Katsuki presses a kiss onto the bandage right where he hurt her not too long ago.

Katsuki's hair tickes her chin and y/n stares at the wall of the tent behind him. Katsuki's hand softly traces patterns onto her arm as he continues to hide his face at her throat. He's so soft right now that y/n wonders what possessed him to hurt her in the first place.

When Katsuki notices that y/n doesn't struggle against him, he pulls back and looks at her. Y/n holds his gaze. There's no fire or anger behind her eyes. Just exhaustion. Slowly, he leans forward, presses a kiss to her forehead and pulls her close. Y/n can't help but lean into his touch. She's been feeling so alone. How can she refuse Katsuki's touch right now? She's too worn out physically and emotionally to fight him or the burning want in her stomach to be comforted by him.

Katsuki puts his hand into her hair and pulls his face closer to his. Y/n continues to hold his gaze. She can see worry, sadness and regret shimmering behind them. Maybe also something like relief. His nose grazes hers and she can feel his breath on her lips.

Katsuki is desperate to kiss her right now but he doesn't move forward. He's not sure if he's still allowed to touch her like that.

Y/n wants to be angry with him like she was before the fever took hold of her. She wants to yell and scream at him. At the same time, she wishes for nothing more than for him to close the gap between them and kiss her. But she's too exhausted to do anything other than lay still in his arms.

She wonders if she’s going mad. If she’s suffering some mental illness that makes her love a man who hurt her, wonders if maybe she’s always been mad like this which led to all her bad decisions. Or if the death of her parents and the loss of her people made her mad like that.

Y/n is ripped out of her thoughts when Katsuki’s lips softly graze hers. It's that moment that she decides that she doesn’t care and that it doesn’t matter.

I dug my own grave, now I have to lay in it.

Before Katsuki can realize what is happening, she closes the gap between them and kisses Katsuki deeply.

For a moment, Katsuki is frozen. He struggles to understand y/n's ever-changing emotions and actions. Only a couple of days ago she looked at him as if she wanted to murder him. He decides that he doesn't care and that it doesn't matter. Not after almost losing her.

He pulls her closer so that her entire body is pressed against him. He reciprocates the kiss and kisses her as deeply as he can. He tries to pour all the words that she doesn't understand into this one kiss.

They kiss until they can't breathe anymore and they need to pull apart. Katsuki softly pushes a greasy strand of hair out of her face, but it's stuck to her sweaty forehead. He offers her a small smile because he's not sure if this means she has forgiven him.

When y/n sighs and leans against his forehead, relief finally floods through his body.

My mate didn't reject me.

He pulls her into his arms and engulfs her with his much larger frame. Y/n leans into him and Katsuki pulls the blanket over them. They can stay here for a little while longer. At least until one of the healers comes in with another portion of this god-awful syrup.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

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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

[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.”