#titanic imagine

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The Ship Of Dreams 🚢 | Twilight Imagine

Set during the events between New Moon and Eclipse & after Breading Dawn Part 2

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Cullen!reader (female), Bella Swan-Cullen (platonic), Edward Cullen (adoptive ‘twin’ brother), the Cullen family (platonic/adoptive family), family OC!s, Alex Mason!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: major angst, smoking, details of historical event disaster, profanity, descriptions of stalking and death | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Bella Swan always wondered what the story was of her vampire boyfriend’s so called ‘twin’ sister. Quiet and reserved, she had a mysterious aura to her, and what many would describe as a lady lost in time. Though she appeared no older than the age of 17, Y/n Cullen had eyes that saw a multitude of lives. Though in April 2006, the anniversary of a fateful night, finally reveals the truth behind the ‘youngest’ Cullen’s history with the Ship of Dreams.

Note: I had this Twilight x Titanic work in the making for two years 💀😭 back when I visited the Titanic Museum in 2023! I had done the TGM x Titanic AU and immediately started working on this but then, as usual, I got hyperfixated on other things and pushed this to the back burner...but anyway hope y'all like this! ❤️ also I cried writing the hospital scene. I mean I literally had to pause and gather myself at times while writing it because I was making myself so sad.

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April 2006

In the year since becoming involved with Edward Cullen and learning of the secret he and his family share, Bella had yet to uncover the story of his ‘twin’ by name and nature, Y/n.

Calling them twins was a far reach. Sure they had the same golden eyes and inhumanly beautiful physique, but that was it. Unlike Rosalie and Jasper who were blonde and could easily pass as twin siblings, Y/n and Edward appeared nothing alike save for the tiny detail they shared the same birthday of June 20th and were both turned at the age of 17. But whereas Edward was born in the year 1901, Y/n’s was 1895–the same year Esme was born. 

Bella only learned this by doing the math, after Edward let it slip Y/n was technically six years older than him. 

Like Alice and Jasper, Y/n had not been turned by Carlisle but, to Bella’s surprise, was the first to join his coven. Well before Edward came into the picture. When asked about this, following Edward’s explanation of Carlisle’s origin to her the night she visited his home for the first time, Edward plainly stated with a look she couldn’t decipher, “You’d have to ask her, it’s not my story to tell.”

But Bella never could bring herself to ask. Y/n’s exterior was as cold as Rosalie’s. Guarded and reserved. Quiet to the point she hardly added input during times the Cullen’s faced conflict. Always glued to a corner, hidden from the shadows. One glare was enough to send goosebumps along Bella’s arm. Understanding it’d be better to either not know Y/n’s story all together or silently hope one of the Cullen’s would tell her. Since it was obvious the vampire was going to keep her secrets to herself. 

Well….she was hoping to. 

“We can’t watch it here,” Edward’s voice was serious. More serious than ever, causing confusion to etch Bella’s face, taking the DVD case from Edward with a frown. It was a movie she’d seen a handful of times, a classic and one she thoroughly enjoyed whenever it played on TV. The only reason she was suggesting it now for their weekly movie night was for an assignment her history teacher gave on the historical event it was based on considering the upcoming anniversary was the following week.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a DVD player.”

“I do,” he rolls his eyes, yet still carries the serious strain of his tone “but we can’t watch that here. We’ll go to your place.”

Her frown deepened, a little annoyed with the vampire changing their plans considering she drove all the way out to his. “I don’t understand, Edward….why is it so much of a big deal to watch Titanic here.” 

Lightening fast, Edward held a hand up, freezing the two in their places while Bella watched him turn his head to face the open doorway. Tilting it slightly as though to strain his hearing. When it appeared whatever coast was clear, he let out a breath of relief before facing her again, noting her visible confusion. “I’ll explain everything once we get to your house. I promise just…” he pleads with his eyes, gently taking the DVD once again to tap at the title Titanic with his finger, “don’t mention this when we’re here or in front of my family.”

The entire drive was quiet. Save for the soft remedy of the radio. The music gave Bella the distraction she needed to not say anything about what took place in Edward’s bedroom until they reached her house. All the while she replayed the moment in her head, followed by how eerie the Cullen house became right after the famous ship’s name spilled from her lips.

Titanic.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” She did not hesitate the second they entered, hanging her coat on the hanger and moving past him to set up the DVD player. She heard his sigh, igniting her annoyance, “you promised me an explanation.”

She felt his presence behind her, then a second later Edward kneeled to her level and took the DVD once more.

“You once asked me about Y/n,” he began, eyes lowered to the ground, “What her story was and how she was the first to join Carlisle” Gold met brown, his gaze shifting upward, while holding the disk cover up. “This isn’t just a movie, Bella. Not to her.” Heart pounding, Bella felt the air catch in her throat, realizing his implication. 

It’s her life.

“You’re saying…” She glanced at the cover. The iconic image of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as Jack and Rose. The love story that ended in tragedy. Bella’s heart skipped at Edward’s nod.

“She lived it.” The air caught in Bella’s throat as the words left his mouth. “Y/n was on Titanic the night it sank--where she was turned by a vampire who wanted access to her family’s fortune.” 

“Family’s fortune?” Bella was processing multiple things at once. 

She was getting Y/n’s backstory she’d been curious about for over a year. 

The vampire was aboard the famous ship which sank nearly a century prior.

Y/n apparently came from a wealthy family. 

It was a lot to take in. 

Edward placed the disk in the compartment, pressing the button to turn on the tv. “Her family were first-class passengers.” He began to explain, “Her father was the co-owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers and her mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker who happened to be a popular socialite among their class. Y/n was privately educated, and set to study literature at NYU.”

“Wow,” Bella exhaled, taking in the information. The screen had projected the main menu but neither were focused on it. 

Discovering Y/n wanted to pursue literature was no surprise. From the massive book collection in the Cullen’s library which Edward said belonged to her, to the phenomenal school papers Bella had read in their English class during their peer review sessions, she knew Y/n was a gifted writer and storyteller. She made the simplest of words feel powerful. Brought scenes to life in the reader’s mind. 

Then there was the tiny detail that Edward made a comment months back saying Y/n had published several books under pseudonyms.

He won’t admit it, but Bella’s fairly certain Y/n wrote one of the books on their summer reading list. The suspicion formed when she caught him sending his sister a knowing look after the sheet was passed out. When she looked at Y/n, Bella noticed her amused smirk, followed by a chuckle as she winked at her brother. 

“I-I don’t--,” she had trouble putting the words together, flushing red. “I can’t imagine….”

Edward nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. “Talking about our past is hard for all of us. But for Y/n, it doesn’t help that every history class talks about it.” He lifts up the DVD cover, “or that Hollywood continues to make shows and movies.” 

Bella wanted to ask more questions but understood it wasn’t the time. She knew if she wanted more information, she was going to have to gather the courage to ask Y/n herself. A task easier said than done when the vampire had barely warmed up to the human since implanting herself in their lives. 

They settled on the couch and pressed play, but Bella’s attention was far from the film. Her mind drifted to Y/n. Thinking about her as each scene played out to the point Bella started to picture Y/n in Rose’s place. It brought chills to her arms, shuddering as she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in those final moments as the ship sank. 

When the movie ended, Bella said goodbye to Edward and began her assignment. Again, she was distracted. Feeling off as she searched online for sources about Titanic and watched video clips of survivors. 

Eventually, after contemplating for over an hour, Bella picked up the phone off the receiver and dialed the number. It rang three times before the familiar voice with a slight transatlantic accent spoke through. 

“I’ve been waiting for your call.” 

Bella silently cursed, face and neck turning red as she cleared her throat before replying, “Can you come over? I’d like to talk to you.” 

20 minutes later, Bella and Y/n sat across from each other in her kitchen. Notebook in front of her, cup of juice on the table and pencil in hand while Y/n’s were folded in her lap. To Bella’s surprise, the vampire knew exactly why she had called her, for Alice had seen it that morning and warned Y/n. 

‘So much for easing my way into this,’ Bella thought to herself. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” She nervously said, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. Y/n gave her a soft smile in hopes of easing the poor girl.

“Bella, if I didn’t want to do this I would have said so over the phone.” 

“I know but…” she cringes slightly, more embarrassed with herself than anything. “This is your history. And I feel like I invaded your privacy by making Edward tell me why we couldn’t watch the film at your house.”

“You didn’t make him tell you anything,” Y/n’s words shocked her, Bella tilting her head in confusion. “Edward made a promise, and you were ensuring he lived up to it. I can understand given the way he behaved and made you clueless as to what the issue was. Granted,” Y/n paused, shuffling in her seat, “I would have rather you simply came to me, but I realize my part in why you refrained all these months since you got together.” 

‘Avoiding you like the plague,’ as one would say.

Y/n put her folded hands on the table, nodding to the notebook. “How would you like to start?” 

Bella straightened in her chair, bringing the notebook closer as she opened it to remove the paper listing the assignment. She skimmed over it, brows pinched, “Um, it says I have the option to write an essay on media--documentaries, movies, tv specials--about the event. Research and write a biographical report on a famous passenger. Or….” her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, peering at Y/n over the paper. “Interview a survivor.” 

Y/n hummed, elbows propped on the table to rest her chin on her folded hands. “And which option are you leaning toward?” 

A frown made its way on Bella’s face, shrugging lightly as she placed the sheet back down. “Honestly I’m not sure. I’ve watched the movie and a couple documentaries. Read a memoir from a survivor and searched about a few passengers on the internet.”

“Well my advice,” Y/n mused, shifting her arms down so they were crossed but still leaning on the table. “Options one and two are your best bet. Unfortunately the last remaining survivor, besides myself,” she paused briefly with a strained smile, “lives all the way in England. She’s I believe 94, and was only two months old when she was aboard. Frankly I do not understand why our teacher would have that option on the assignment.” Leaning back in her chair she let out a sigh before giving the girl a knowing look. “But Bella, you and I both know you don’t really need my help on this assignment.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, making Bella’s pale face turn red as a tomato. Of course Y/n wasn’t going to buy her excuse of helping with homework. And there was no point in denying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really know how to approach the subject.” 

“You could’ve just asked,” Y/n teased, but waved a hand dismissively and huffed. “Again. I’m to blame for why you didn’t.” Straightening her already perfect posture, Y/n tugged at the sleeve of her turtleneck and got serious. Taking a moment before speaking as though she were preparing herself. “You want to know my story and I’ll tell you, but you have to understand that it is not like how you see in the movies. My experience,” a faint look reached her eyes. “Was very different.”

Bella swallowed thickly, closing her notebook and pushing it away. Giving Y/n her full attention. “I understand.”

“What all did Edward tell you?”

“That you were on the Titanic when it sank. Your family came from wealth, and you were targeted by a vampire who snuck on who wanted access to that.” Bella saw the way Y/n’s breath hitched, stiffening but quickly recovered herself. Making the girl mentally curse herself for possibly overstepping. 

“Okay. That at least gives me some insight on where to begin.” Clearing her throat, Y/n reached into her satchel and removed a silver metal tin. It was in great condition despite evidently being from the 1910s. “Do you mind?” 

The question confused Bella, who didn’t know how to respond until her gaze landed on the now open tin, revealing five pristine cigarettes on either side. “Oh,” her eyes widened in surprise. Not sure how to respond since this was new information to her. Instantly questions popped in her mind. ‘Can vampires even smoke?’ ‘Does anyone else in the Cullens smoke?’ ‘How does that work?’ 

Bella shrugged, “my dad smokes cigars in the living room at times. And my step-dad is a smoker so I don’t mind, help yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Y/n plucked one from the tin, placing it between her lips before looking in her bag again to fish for her lighter. “You know, it pleases me that there are still some cigarettes from my time available. These are Camels,” she gestured at them with one hand while the other pulled out the lighter. It matched the tin. Silver, vintage, and in pristine condition. “I preferred Fatima’s back then, but these will have to do. I hate Malboro’s,” her thumb flicked the lighter open, the flame igniting. 

“Never tried them,” Bella commented with a small smile. Frankly she was quite stunned with how Y/n was speaking to her as though they had been friends for decades. Just telling her the favorite cigarettes she used to smoke gave a little insight into her past. 

Bella pictured the young woman on the terrace of a New York cafe, cigarette in hand with a martini in the other while gossiping to her friends of the latest scandals within their socialite circle. Pearls around her neck, diamonds on her ears. Standing in the powder room with said friends to reapply her rough lipstick and adjust whatever pillbox hat she chose to wear that day. 

Thinking of what Y/n’s life might have been before becoming a vampire saddened Bella. The possibilities, the opportunities. Would she have married and have children? Would she have gone on to do great things? 

“It doesn’t do anything to me, obviously.” Y/n explained, bringing the flame to the filter. The glow of it made her golden eyes brighten in color. Once lit, she flicked the lighter off and tossed it and the tin back into her satchel. Bella stared at Y/n with fascination as she inhaled deeply before tilting her head back to blow out a thick cloud of smoke. “But it makes me feel….human. I used to do it so much that having one in my hand became second nature. It was common for the times. Plus the taste of it reminds me of bitter coffee,” That distant look in her eyes returned, but was then replaced by annoyance, “Carlisle hates it--as does Esme but they tolerate it so long I do it on the terrace. Emmett and Rosalie will indulge me by partaking to get under their skin,” a light chuckle leaves her lips, taking another drag. “The others say nothing. As I said, it doesn’t affect us.”

Bella laughed under breath, “Honestly I can’t see Edward smoking.” Picturing it felt foreign, and Bella wondered if he had before turning. 

Y/n laughed with her. “I’ve tried tempting him, but he never breaks. Still tries to use the excuse that it is a bad habit.” Y/n scoffs, “believe me, I know. He just hates the smell of it--enhanced senses to blame for that.” Blowing smoke out, Y/n finished with, “Alright, enough of my bad habit.”

Y/n began to take Bella back to April 10th, 1912. To the day she and her family boarded Titanic to set sail to New York from Southampton, England. “Before they were the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were the Brooklyn Dodgers. And before that, they were the Brooklyn Superbas. My father co-founded and owned the team in 1883 as the Brooklyn Grays prior to all the name changes and eventual move. His father,” she took out a small antique ashtray from the satchel, tapping off the ash from the filter. “had accumulated wealth after hitting big during the Gold Rush. My father then used his part of the inheritance to go into business with Charles Byrne, Joseph Doyle, and Ferdinand Abell.”

Now it made sense for Bella why whenever the Cullen’s played baseball Y/n sported Dodger merchandise and would find her watching the team play on T.V during the season. She also was a fan of the Brooklyn Mets, but not as enthusiastic as she was with the Dodgers. Not to mention the intense rivalry with Edward for his love of the Chicago Cubs. 

“Now you know how my family’s fortune came to be,” Y/n waved the smoke she released away, “and as you can imagine, he was friends with some very rich, influential people in New York. The whole reason we were in England to begin with was to attend the wedding of one of those people. As for Titanic,” she swallowed the imaginary bile in her throat. “He wanted to have the ability to tell everyone that he and his family were amongst the ship's first passengers. To brag or whatever--I don’t really know. But it happened that the wedding took place around the time she was set to set sail to New York. Extending our trip to last three weeks instead of the two we planned. All because he managed to snag the tickets by talking to the right people at the right time…..”

“I do not understand why we couldn’t have left on the Lusitania last week,” Y/n complained as the car neared the boarding docks. Trying to peer out the window but was annoyed by the crowd of people taking up every inch of the pavements, making their journey last longer than planned. “We’ve taken the liner twice now--surely it would have been up to satisfaction. We’ve had no trouble traveling on it--why go through the hassle of staying a whole week longer just to be on this ship, father?”

Not looking up from the newspaper in his hands, Y/n’s father sighed and shook his head. Irritated by her complaining as she had yet to stop since he told her the news. “Because, daughter, this is no ordinary ship. The White Star Line has spent years crafting the perfect vessel for the sea and we are in an extraordinary position to be able to be amongst the first passengers aboard. How could you not be excited by that?”

Y/n secured her coat tighter around her shoulders, frowning while keeping her gaze on the scene outside. “Forgive me for not being comfortable at boarding a ship that is set to make its first voyage across the Atlantic.” 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Y/n. There is no need to be dramatic and consume yourself with worry. The White Star Line has assured Titanic passed every safety precaution and is unsinkable.” 

That did nothing to lift her unease, “Is that not what they said about the Tayleur? It sank three days into its maiden voyage?!” Her father grumbled, closing his paper to fold and place in his lap. 

“That was over fifty years ago. Times have changed. Technology has changed.” His hand waved dismissively, “That ship was doomed from the start despite what the papers make of it. Look, it would be foolish of them to not have learned from their mistakes. I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.”

“But that feeling never left me,” Y/n put out the cigarette, blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Even after meeting the crew and the captain, there was an odd heaviness in my stomach. Telling me that something would happen. No matter what I did to distract myself--whether that be playing cards or chatting with other young girls my age aboard, thinking about my fiancé back in New York….it never left my mind.” 

Bella let out a gasp, eyes widening at the revelation, “Fiancé?” At the vampire’s nod, Bella felt her heartbreak. 

“Alexander Mason,” there was an airiness when Y/n exhaled, reminiscing at the memory of her lost love. “His father was a real estate mogul and big fan of the Dodgers. Our fathers met at a banquet, not long after they were invited to watch a game from our private viewing box and introduced us. Alex was a doll,” Another cigarette was lit, the woman shifting in her chair. “Handsome, intelligent. Beautiful eyes you could get lost in. Had a sharp tongue but a quick wit. I honestly wanted nothing to do with him,” Y/n chuckled at Bella’s gaped expression. “He talked my ear off that night.”

“And that was a bad thing?” Bella giggled.

“No,” Y/n defended, her own smile threatening to peek through. “It’s not a bad thing. It was just….odd. Took me off guard--especially because the conversation was centered around me. Which--,” her finger not holding the cigarette lifted up for emphasis, “most men in the 1900s of that class were not interested in the hobbies and interests of women. They desired a wife who would be a shiny doll to hang off their arm and keep the house in order.” The cigarette went between her lips. 

“I was not like that. I had dreams. Aspirations. I wanted to go to school, become a writer, and maybe see a little of the world before settling down.” The small, albeit sad, smile appeared. “He supported me--encouraged it actually. Then after several dates I was smitten. Alex was the first man to whisk me off my feet and make me believe there were truly good people out there. He was so sweet. So kind. Loving.” If her heart could beat, Y/n was sure it would have died on its own from being broken. “I knew I’d never find another like him. Which is why I said yes to marrying him after four months of courting. Under the condition we’d wait until I completed university--we were seventeen after all and the idea of marrying that young, despite it being common, unnerved me.”

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was. He agreed that it was too soon to get married, but he told me he’d rather refer to me as his fiancée than telling people we were going steady.” It was then Y/n peered down at her left hand. Bella followed her gaze, landing on the dainty diamond ring on the finger reserved for when one commits their life and love for another person until death do them part. Realizing what the ring was, and seeing how she never saw Y/n without it, Bella felt her eyes water. 

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” it truly was. Timeless and the type of ring that belonged on display in an antique museum. It suited Y/n.  

“Thank you,” she beamed, lifting her hand up to inspect it. “His words when he proposed was he saw the ring and it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled when I laughed.” Y/n tightened her lips, emotion flooding her. “Little did he know the only time I genuinely laughed was with him. He was the reason for that sparkle.” 

A pregnant pause fell over the two. Y/n shuddering as she blinked away the tears that would never fall. God if there was one thing from her human days she wished she still had, it was the ability to cry. 

“What happened to him? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bella’s tone was gentle, hand nudging slightly forward as if to offer Y/n comfort. 

“He lived a long life,” Y/n resumed smoking, though the sadness never left her tone and her gaze remained on her ring. “I watched over him for many years--even after joining Carlisle. He can attest to the weekends I’d go missing and return with a tortured presence.” The heaviness in her chest heightened, she quickly reverted the story back to Titanic knowing at some point Bella would ask more about her relationship. 

“Anyways, we boarded Titanic the morning of April tenth and I kept to myself most of the time. If I wasn’t in my suite, I read in the lounge or sat on the deck drinking tea. Played cards with wives and daughters in first class. Chatted with the crew whenever I had questions.” Y/n inhaled sharply, eyes turning narrow. “It wasn’t just the ship I was worried about--Twas the main reason for my anxiety, yes, but there was a sense that I was being watched. You know the feeling?”

Bella nodded, heat rising to her pale cheeks as she thought back to the first weeks she lived in Forks and first met Edward. Even when she could not physically see him, the feeling she was being watched hovered over her. Then of course the incident with James, and now with Victoria still out there, Bella kept looking over her shoulder believing she’d catch a glimpse of red hair. “I know it quite well.” 

“Then you know it brings the hairs on the back of your neck up,” Y/n snarls, clutching her fists together. “And it is frustrating because you feel as though you are going crazy scanning your surroundings every second hoping to find the one responsible.” Unclenching she shook her head and took a deep drag of the cigarette. Letting the nicotine, a placebo to her, linger in her system before releasing. “The entire time on that ship I knew I was being watched. On the deck--in the lounge--in the ballroom, God, on my way to the powder room, I felt like a deer being hunted. My father dismissed my concerns, naturally, because I had no evidence of this faceless individual stalking me aboard. My mother, God rest her soul, at least listened and advised me to not wander on my own after nightfall.” 

“I’m assuming this faceless individual is the vampire who…” Bella trailed off nervously, her suspicions confirmed by the firm nod she received. “Who was he?” This time she got a scoff.

“To this day I’m unsure if the name he gave me was in fact his real one. Hours prior to the sinking he introduced himself to me--Called himself Arthur Deveroux. Said he was an investment broker out of London.” The sneer returned on her visage. “And that he was on his way to New York to do business with Rockerfeller. I’d never heard of him, and to this day the name Arthur Deveroux is not on the list of first class passengers aboard Titanic. He was a stowaway,” Y/n explained with a grimace. “Snuck on minutes before the ship departed Southampton and imposed as a member of London’s elite. In reality, Arthur--or whatever his true name was--was a man who’s greatest power was the ability to deceive.”

A chill ran down Bella’s spine. Enough to make her shift in her seat. It wasn’t hard to picture the kind of man Arthur was based on the fury laced in the vampire’s tone. And as Y/n relayed the story of the night she met her creator, Bella felt as though she were there with her. 

“What did you say your name was again?” Y/n’s brows pinched, observing the man with skepticism as she removed her hand from his after he’d taken it to kiss her knuckles. Just before he approached her at the table where she had been retrieving a plate of custard for her mother, that inkling of being watched had pooled in her stomach. Sending off alarm bells when she turned to find a beautiful man appearing not much older than her with the most unusual eye color. 

Red. Deep like the rouge lipstick she wore. The sight of them made her take a cautious step back. 

“Arthur Deveroux, madam.” Never had she heard a voice like him. Smooth and echoey. Unique and the type one would hear singing on the radio. Or beckoning prey out to sea. 

“Arthur,” Y/n repeated, scanning his physique which was donned in a crisp suit. Matching the men around them present for dinner. “You’re from England I assume? What brings you to New York?”

“Business. My company hopes to collaborate with Mr. Rockerfeller.”

“Fascinating,” she wasn’t really. Many men attempted to get their hooks into the millionaire and turned up short. Y/n thanked the waiter handing her a martini, taking a sip while eyeing Arthur, who declined the waiter’s offer of making him a drink. “How come I have not seen you before tonight, Mr. Deveroux? Are you not one to mingle?”

His chuckle sounded like wind chimes. “I’m afraid not. I tend to stick to the walls during these gatherings and observe. The people here are far too ostentatious for my liking.” If he’d been anyone else Y/n would laugh. Agreeing with the statement. But something about Arthur screamed that he was hiding something.

“Well, do enjoy yourself these last days Mr. Deveroux.” She began to excuse herself, sneaking a glance to her table to find her parents watching the scene. “I hope New York is up to your standards.” 

The smirk that appeared sent goosebumps along Y/n’s arm. And not the good kind she’d get when Alex looked at her. Everything about the expression was eerie. As though Arthur was calculating an idea--and Y/n was at the center of it.

“I believe you might be right, Y/n. I think New York is going to be everything I envisioned.” Taking her hand once more, Arthur’s smirk never left as he felt her shudder at the touch. Cold lips pressing to her knuckles. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.” Before she had the chance to reply, Arthur backed away slowly then turned on his heel. Striding toward the exit amongst a sea of guests, and Y/n let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding. 

When he disappeared from her view, Y/n realized she’d never given him her name.

As it came time to recall the final minutes of her humanity, Y/n was on her fourth cigarette and the golden color of her eyes had dimmed. Bella’s heart skipped and she swore to herself knowing Y/n heard it. The last thing she wanted was to dishearten the young woman further. 

“I’d got separated from my parents during the initial chaos,” her voice was barely over a murmur. Gaze fixated on the surface of the table. “Titanic had just struck the iceberg and the impact woke me up. My parents went to the deck for information and I was trying to find them when I was suddenly pulled into a storage closet by a force so strong I remember it knocking me off my feet. Dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t see and the grip on me prevented me from moving--I let out a scream but then a hand covered my mouth causing me to freeze. That’s when I heard his voice.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/n.” his icy mouth caressed the side of her ear. Y/n whimpered against the rock solid hand holding her still. “I’d hoped to continue our conversation in New York, but it appears this ship will not be arriving. Now I have to improvise, but rest assured….this will only hurt for a little while.” And before Y/n could react, a pinch on her neck turned to a searing, excruciating pain that exploded in every cell in her body as Arthur sank his teeth into her skin. 

Ensuring Y/n L/n was listed among those lost at sea when Titanic greeted the bottom of the Atlantic on the early morning of April 15th, 1912. Her name missing from the list of survivors recovered on the RMS Carpathia. To the world, the beautiful young socialite died along with the thousands Titanic took with her. Never knowing she was reborn into a creature of the night, destined to walk the Earth for eternity as a living reminder of the ship of dreams that was believed to never meet her end. 

“By the time I awoke Titanic was all but a memory. A blur. He kept me in that closet for most of the transformation as the ship took on water. Slowly descending further and further into the icy waters of the Atlantic,” Y/n finished the last of her cigarette, putting the nub out and curling her hands into her elbows. “I heard everything. The screams. The cries. Women and children saying goodbye to their fathers. The violins from the band who refused to stop playing.” The melody filled her ears, bringing Y/n back in time. “I focused on the music. Ironically enough, it brought comfort despite the chaos unfolding and served as a distraction for the torment I was going through. Mentally and physically.”

Bella wiped away a tear with a sniff but she remained quiet.

“When the upper deck flooded, that's when Arthur moved us. Edward might have told you before that when a vampire bites a human, the amount of time it takes for the venom to course through all depends on where they bite them.” Bella nodded slowly, remembering the conversation from when she first went to the Cullen’s home and he told her that Carlisle suffered for days during the transformation because he was bitten on the hand. For Y/n, Arthur bit her neck. Closer to the heart and therefore it would only take hours. 

“I was nearing the end--and he knew that, but it was minutes before the ship would submerge and he did not want us to get stuck. He gathered me up, hauled me over his shoulder and made our escape. To everyone on board scrambling to stay afloat it looked like a man carrying his lover to safety. What they didn’t see, however,” Y/n paused briefly to gather her emotions. “Was Arthur throwing us off the railing on the opposite side and swimming away. For miles and miles in absolute darkness. Until we finally reached the shore.”

Bella pictured a newly turned Y/n dragged from the waters onto the sands of New York. Returning home as planned, but without a beating heart and newfound thirst for blood. Scared. Confused. One minute she’s aboard a sinking ship, the next she’s on land. Life stolen by a man with sinister intentions. Depriving her of the future with Alex she dreamed of. 

“What happened next?” Bella carefully asked. 

Y/n’s expression remained dejected, offering a light shrug. “Arthur kept me hidden for days. Forcing me to feed on innocent humans. The RMS Carpathia would be arriving in New York and he needed to confirm if my parents had survived so he could blackmail me into stealing my inheritance.” Pushing away from the table, Y/n gathered the ashtray and discarded the remains into the trash. Running it under the faucet before wiping it dry with a paper towel.

“What the bastard didn’t anticipate,” she said with a tone Bella couldn’t decipher, but it sent a wave of unease through her. “Was the level of rage I experienced when I finally got a hold of my mind. It’s easy for creators to manipulate newborn vampires, but they have to be precise and hope that the person does not remember what preceded the bite. Unfortunately for Arthur, I remembered everything.” Y/n returned to the table, tossing the ashtray in her satchel and Bella saw the darkened expression that had encased her. “And once I realized what he’d done to me…let’s just say Arthur should’ve thought twice about taking on a newborn vampire for the first time.”

Bella didn’t have to hear the words to know what Y/n was implying. Gulping as she muttered, “You destroyed him. Like Edward did to James.”

Their eyes locked, and Bella felt her breath hitch by the blankness in Y/n’s. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” there was no hesitation. How could Bella blame her for wanting revenge on the man who stole her life. Y/n deserved her revenge and from the sound of it, Arthur had never turned anyone prior to her. Leaving him unqualified for the intensity a newborn experiences adjusting to their new life. 

Y/n would’ve been stronger. Faster. Combine that with rage and the taste for vengeance and Arthur was no match for her. 

“Carlisle found me three months later--in July of 1912,” Y/n wrapped up the story, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before moving to play with her ring. “I knew immediately he was like me, but his eyes were different and I wanted--needed--to know what my future was like. Considering I didn’t really give Arthur the chance to explain,” A sheepish look came over her. “Carlisle had this aura, and I knew I could trust him.” A soft chuckle escapes her, “It’s funny, you know, my intuition never failed me when I was human. It was so strong even then and becoming this only enhanced it. Just look at how the entire time on Titanic I could not shake the feeling it wouldn’t reach America. Then Arthur….Carlisle believes it to be my gift and If I’m being honest I didn’t believe it myself until decades later.” 

Bella instantly became curious, “What made you think otherwise?”

Y/n tensed, and the crushing expression replaced the somber one. Folded hands going in her lap, but her thumb still stroked the ring. “Remember how I said I used to watch over Alex?” Bella nodded slowly, chest tightening at the implication, followed by confirmation. “Well I always felt,” her left hand went to the part of her chest where her heart lay. Unmoving. “In here, beckoning me to be near him. That I needed to see him--even if it was for a split second. And so, for seventy years--,” Bella’s mouth parted with glistening eyes. Y/n mirrored her, but unlike Bella the tears wouldn’t fall. “I would go to him. Observing from afar of course I could never…get close.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hand back in her lap. “There were times he saw me.”

A gasp left Bella before she could stop it. “He did?”

“Yes,” Y/n murmur was more of a whimper, and Bella let the first tear fall. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d let our gaze lock. Then the second he blinked or turned I bolted. I know,” she huffed, “It was selfish of me. I hated myself because I was quite literally a ghost haunting him. But God I just needed to see his eyes--they were always my favorite thing about him.” 

Y/n cleared her throat loudly, rubbing her arms as she gathered herself. She knew telling Bella about Alex her years watching over him would come to this moment, but nothing could prepare her for the pain surfacing within her. 

“The uh--the last time I saw Alex was on his deathbed,” her eyes were closed but she heard Bella’s reaction. From the stutter of her heart to the sharp inhale. “In the days leading up everything felt off. I knew he was sick--he’d been for awhile, but I hoped he’d pull through like the other scares. This was different.” Her hand went back to her chest. “My intuition never failed me,” she let out a watery laugh, “and this time…it was warning the inevitable. Then Alice gave a look I’ll never forget, and I knew I needed to get to him as fast as I could.”

Bella couldn’t even imagine, just envisioning it made her heart sink into her stomach and throat dry up. Before she could ask the million dollar question, Y/n answered for her. “I got to say goodbye. It’s what Alex deserved. After everything I put him through he deserved to have closure.”

“Why did you never…?”

“Turn him?”

“Yeah,” Bella frowned, immediately regretting the question upon Y/n’s look of torment. 

“Same reason why Edward has yet to turn you,” it was harsh and Y/n knew it. But Bella needed a wake up call, if she could be the one to deliver then so be it. Yet at the same time, Y/n finds it aggravating that Edward would put this much effort into a relationship with Bella to not turn her. With Alex, Y/n never pursued him and kept her distance for a reason. Yes, she tortured herself by constantly checking on him, but at least she committed to it. 

A flash of hurt was evident on Bella, but she recovered as Y/n continued, “Alex lived a long life. Maybe not always happy, but he went on to do great things. He became an engineer, and dedicated his career to advancing ships for cross-Atlantic travel. Because he never wanted another disaster like Titanic to happen again,” a small smile curled up on her lips, a proud look in her eyes. “Eventually he married a nice woman, had a daughter, and three grandkids. Turning him would’ve taken that all away.”

Despite feeling broken-hearted for Y/n, Bella understood her reasoning, even though she herself desires becoming a vampire to be with Edward. Unlike Y/n, who sacrificed her chance at having her love with her to give him the ability to live a full life. 

“Did you,” she bit her lip, leaning her elbows on the table after wiping a stray tear. “Did you at least get to talk to him? Before he died?”

Y/n was silent. Gaze drawn down to her lap where it focused on the diamond ring. And while her undead heart broke for the man she’d never see tending to his garden or placing fresh flowers on her ‘grave,’ ever again, Y/n smiled at knowing he was in a better place. 

“I did.”

“I-I knew--I always knew,” the old man croaked in anguish as tears welled in his beautiful eyes that still held the color and sparkle they did when he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Now covered with wrinkles to match his withered skin and silver hair. He laid in a hospital attached to different machines, heart monitor picking up in pace at the rapid beat due to the emotions consuming him. But no matter his appearance, he was still the sweet, darling, Alexander Mason Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. “I-I saw you--after Carpathia docked I scoured the area for you.”

“I know you did,” Y/n whispered with agony. Grabbing his hands gently, making him gasp by how cold they were but he clutched them like a lifeline. Holding them to his chest because he feared that if he let go she’d disappear. 

“They told me you were lost at sea,” the first tear fell, and Y/n felt a sob in the back of her throat. “They said you sank to the bottom and would never be recovered. They--they told me I was making it up--but I knew you were out there. I saw you.” He shook his head as more tears cascaded down his cheeks like a never ending waterfall. “I saw you at my graduation. At the cemetery when my mother died. At the docks when I left for France--when I was in France.” Y/n shuddered at the memory surfacing. 

America had entered World War I and despite Alex coming from wealth where he easily could’ve dodged the draft, he enlisted and spent the year in Europe fighting. And the entire time Alex carried a photograph of Y/n in his pocket close to his heart. Removing it when he was about to go on the frontlines to take one last look at her face and press a kiss to the image. Men in his battalion often asked about the lady Alex held in his pocket, and each time they were met with shock and regret when he revealed she was on Titanic when it sank. 

That was the longest time Y/n had been away from Carlisle. He advised her not to go as she did not know any of his friends that lived in Europe, but Y/n refused to be an ocean apart from Alex. Especially when there was the high chance he may never return home. No, she needed to be close to him. To ensure he was safe. Eventually when the war ended, and Alex was back in New York, Y/n tracked down Carlisle in Chicago. Discovering that during her departure he turned a 17-year-old boy dying of Spanish Influenza. 

“I was there,” she breathed, confirming his statements as she stroked his hand and wrist. Aged skin contrasting with hers frozen in time. It pained her to see him like this. Pained her to have gone decades as a shadow in his life. Observing from afar while never drawing close. 

“You were there,” He repeated with awe, the memories of each occurrence flooding his mind. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief. She was real. “At the docks.” Y/n nodded. “At the hotel opening.” Another nod, this time slower. “At my wedding.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. Her head dropped between her shoulders, leaning forward to press her forehead against their conjoined hands. The tearless sob released, echoing along the walls and hitting her straight in the chest. Her undead heart breaking into pieces. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me--I couldn’t come to you no--no matter how much my soul begged for me to put an end to the suffering.” 

“What happened out there, my darling?” He brought her attention back to him. Not wanting to go another second without looking at her face. The beautiful face he fell in love with as a boy. The face that haunted his dreams. That he swore he saw on a crowded street and when he looked out his window on every birthday and anniversary that passed. The face he thought of when fighting for is life in France--praying he’ll see when he was called to the heavens. 

Now that face was in front of him after decades of mourning. When people called him crazy for always believing Y/n to be alive and forced to hide away. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” One hand let go of hers to caress her cheek, wrinkled thumb stroking the area below her eyes. “Except your eyes have changed. They’re not the color they were when you left New York.” His hand rested on top of hers, still perched on his chest right by his heart. “But nonetheless, still beautiful.” 

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say but none of them seemed appropriate. “You remember all those stories of creatures in the night we used to read about that our parents said were incongruous?” His nod was slow, but attentive. 

“Like Dracula?”

“Yes,” Y/n choked out a laugh, “Like Dracula. Turns out all those stories are not fairy tales.” His sharp intake filled her ears.

“Are you saying…?” This time Y/n was the one to nod. “Good Heavens. You--you are a--.” She shook her head roughly, not wanting to hear him say the word. 

“I’m not the same I was when I left for England all those years ago. There are things--dark things, that exist in the world, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”

Alex rescinded her words, “No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true, darling.”

“You might have different eyes, but you’ll always be my Y/n. You’ve been my guardian angel all these years. Any--anytime I felt lost, you were there. Anytime I-I felt like I was forgetting your face, there it was in the distance.” 

Y/n let out a pained sound, but it was so soft Alex couldn’t hear it. His words struck her. Like lightning hitting a tree. How could he still have devotion to her after all the suffering she put him through. 

“You still wear it?” He brought her attention to their hands, where his frail finger traced the ring. “After all this time?”

Y/n stared at him with absolute love, “I’ve never once taken it off.” Bringing his hand to hers, she kissed his weathered skin. “And I never will.” For a moment they just sat there. Staring at each other while the beep of the monitor filled the room. Getting slower and slower to the point Y/n felt herself starting to crumble. “I’m breaking all the rules coming here,” she eventually said, wanting to hear his voice until the inevitable arrived. 

“Rules?”

“Things in this life are not so different from yours. There are rules to follow and the reason why I had to stay away from you. It would’ve put you in danger--and I couldn’t let that happen.” Alice assured Y/n her visit with Alex would remain hidden from the Volturi, but part of her still worried. Thankfully her intuition wasn’t screaming at her, otherwise the situation would be different. 

“Will you get in trouble if you’re caught?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you worrying about that. Alright?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” The fact Alex was concerned made her smile. 

“The man who took me in does--and the family he and I found along the way.” One of her hands came up to brush away a silver hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “He found me shortly after I…became this. He knows I would've moved mountains and fought my way through anyone who got in my way to prevent me from being here with you.”

Alex sighed, eyes fluttering shut as they fought against the sleep his body desperately craved. Y/n saw it too, and the look of anguish overcoming her made Alex understand why she waited until now to make an appearance. 

“This is it, isn’t it.” Not a question, a statement. 

“Yes,” she whimpered, scooting closer so she was sitting beside his torso rather than his legs. Leaning into his space as he kept her palms pressed to his slowing heart.

His smile was gentle, “I guess I should find some solace. Dying with the last thing I’ll see being the love of my life I lost a lifetime ago.” Another groan left her. “I always regretted not coming with you to England. That damn Yale interview.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” she defended, tone serious as though appalled by his confession. “Had you who’s to say we would’ve made it on a lifeboat. And if they refused to let you on, I would’ve leaped off.” The chances of him surviving would’ve been slim. The lifeboats took women and children first and therefore the majority of those who died aboard Titanic were men. Including Y/n’s father. “You would’ve never done the amazing things you accomplished, Alex. You would’ve never got your Nobel Prize--or had your family.” 

A sigh left him, knowing she was right, and another wave of tears fell as he whispered, “I would’ve joined you.” He would’ve become a vampire for her. Traded in his future of living to remain unmoving in time with her. 

It devastated her. “I know you would have,” her bottom lip trembled, “But Alex, you deserved to live. You deserved to do all those great things. You’ve embedded your name in history--thanks to you, there hasn’t been a commercial passenger ship to sink in seventy years.”

Alex let out a snuffle, “I didn’t want--I didn’t want anyone to experience the pain I did. Losing you that way…I never recovered, Y/n.” 

Now that destroyed her. Worse than she ever imagined. Y/n audibly reacted as the pain tightened and exploded in her chest. “Oh, Alex.”

“You’ll stay, right?” The monitor decreased in pace. Alex used what little strength his heart had left to stay alive to treasure the last moments the universe afforded him with Y/n. His time was coming, and he was ready, but he needed to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her touch, one last time. “You’ll be right here.”

Y/n leaned forward, holding her weight up but still keeping her body close to his. “I am not going anywhere,” She vowed, lacing their fingers together, pressing them into his chest so she could feel the light thump of his heart. “I’ll be right here every second.”

And Y/n did. She sat there, holding his hands until they went limp. The beeping decreased. Alex’s breathing turned into soft pants, eyes fluttering as the darkness beckoned him. The last thing he felt was cold lips pressed to his forehead, and the melody of her voice in her ears sending him off to the Heavens, “I love you, Alexander Mason, I will love you until the end of time. And when the day comes, I’ll meet you at the docks.” 

April 14th, 2012 

The Cullens stood together in silence as the cool wind breeze passed them and clouds drizzled light rain above. The smell of salt from the sea filled their senses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, causing the boats docked to lightly sway. 

Bella, now possessing golden eyes and skin so pale and cold, leaned into Edward’s side while brushing a hand down their daughter’s hair. Like her family, she remained silent as she watched her sister-in-law stand alone at the edge of the docking port. Staring ahead into the deep, quiet ocean. 

In the middle of the night one hundred years prior and 1,300 miles away, the ship of dreams known as Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Carrying 2,240 souls on her maiden voyage to New York, only 706 made it to their destination. The rest were lost to the sea. 

Y/n L/n may have survived the sinking, but she died aboard Titanic. As the ‘unsinkable’ vessel took on water, her heart stopped. Never to beat again. Becoming frozen like the waters consuming them, she went on to outlive the 706 survivors rescued on the RMS Carpathia. The last one leaving the docks forever in 2009. 

Flowers in her hand, with the same face that boarded Titanic, Y/n approached the edge of the dock. The wind breezed past her, stronger this time but she remained afoot. Crouching down so her knees hovered over the wood. And when she leaned over to stare at the water, the reflection of that 17-year-old passenger stared back at her. 

With a shuddered breath, Y/n gently lowered the bouquet, watching as the current grasped the flowers, allowing them to drift away in the direction Titanic would have traveled when she reached her final destination. 

Golden eyes followed the flowers as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance until Y/n barely made out the color. When it was gone from her vision, she tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the sight of the sun breathing through the dense clouds. 

They’d have to go indoors eventually, but Y/n rejoiced in the feeling that the universe was sending her a sign. They might be gone, but they are never forgotten. The people we love are always watching over us. Sometimes it’ll feel like a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or comes as a whisper. Or in a crowded room you might find their face. 

However it may come, they are always there. 

And as Y/n began to stand, wind picking up once more, she felt the caress of a hand on her shoulder, a gentle murmur filling her ears. 

“I’ll always wait for you at the docks.”

[80s4life]

Pawns”

Word Count: 4,522

Status: Requested!

Ask: Pleeeeeaase write more of Cal from titanic. Literally any prompt I’m so hungry😭

Ask #2: Pleasee could we have more cal hockley content, specifically more chapters for "the things I've never done" and even more short stories if you have the time, I love your work 💕 [THANK YOU SM! I WAS STARTING TO GET SELF CONSCIOUS OF MY WORK AGAIN]

Ask #3 will have an attachment to a separate Cal fic as well, so no request will be shown here until that one.

@: Three cutie pie nonnies!

Relationship: Caledon “Cal” Hockley x Female!Reader

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Summary: Thrusted into the roaring 20′s, all you wanted to be was free and outgoing as all the booming women in city. However, your father’s deal with the devil seals your fate in the hands of your advisor and boss, Caledon Hockley; a man who is haunted by memories, stubborn in his ways, and opposed to the newfound strength in the young women of America. You’re a slave at his will in his eyes, yet you’re just as free as the new reformed women in your own. You’re stuck at a standstill in this endless game of chess, but who’s the pawn?

Warnings: forbidden, early 1900′s morals and customs, Reader is a maid, Cal is the head of the house, Post-Titanic sinking, mature language, kinda spicy, PTSD, domestic violence (included in a PTSD episode ONLY), Kind of a Beauty and The Beast AU for inspiration

{gif is not mine, credit goes to @locke-writes​}

It was all an act of practicality from the start: your father owed his father money and he had a set of nimble hands to rid himself of. 

Nathan Hockley was a millionaire who dealt in the steel tycoon business in Pittsburgh. Your father had a habit of gambling with the wrong people, which had allegedly caused your father to have an uncomfortable run-in with the powerful man. Unable and too stubborn to do so, your father handed you off as a way of reparation for the damage the bastard had caused.

Nathan’s son, Caledon Hockley, was the exact replica of his father. He was cunning, stubborn, powerful and wealthy; a disrupting mixture of facets that could either lift or crush you with a simple snap of a finger. He was dangerous, among many of his other qualities, which made your business in the Hockley’s presence just that much harder.

With the pandemonium that followed the sinking of the Titanic in 1914, the physical and mental effects had taken ahold of Nathan’s deeply treasured and only son, practically keeping him on house arrest until he was “better”. However, to both Nathan and Caledon’s dismay, 6 years had done nothing for his declining health, the reasoning behind why Nathan had administered you into Caledon’s household in the first place.

All of these events have led you up to this point, your suitcase rolling behind you as one of the many maids in the manor lead you up to your room to unpack. You haven’t seen this young and precarious man yet, but something is telling you that you most likely don’t want to. You are soon to be given your list of instructions to follow immediately and precisely; left to your own devices to either stay afloat or drown in the fury of the Hockley men.

Maria, a young maid in her 20′s, around your age, approaches you with a pure and youthful grin, a light blush to her cheeks. Her hair is cut into a cropped bob of black hair with short but soft curls, her lean frame with modest green eyes making her endearing - intoxicating. “You must be Miss Y/L/N?” her cutesy, high pitched voice only adding to her allure and picturesque innocence.

“Yes, that’s me,” you mutter, displaying your hands as if to show yourself off in sarcasm.

“No need to be so glum!” she giggles, bowing her head to catch your eyes and raise your line of sight. “I’m Maria Espinosa, but I’d assume the least you’d want right now is formalities.”

You snort, but let her continue nonetheless.

“I’ve your instructions - written myself, of course!” she smiles brightly; any harder and she might break her face. “As you know, with your appointment into this manor, the rest of the faculty will be let off, per Nathan Hockley’s request. But, don’t fret, the list is simple, short and can last all day without having to pay too much mind. Every Tuesday and Thursday, there will be a grocer that will restock the cabinets, refrigerator, etc. and help you with the cleaning. You are not to touch the east wing and only reside within the west - this will help eliminate the messes to clean and prevent extra exertion-”

“Sorry, if I may be crude, why are we not to go in the east wing?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“It was...” Maria drifts off, choosing her words lightly, “After the accident in 1914, the east was torn by his own hands. It was once used for balls and such, but after the Titanic,” she whispers the name as if someone might hear her, “Caledon was bedridden and sick, upset, angry, any emotion in the book. He used that wing as a way to let those emotions out.”

You stay silent as you stare at her with morbid curiosity and fear, nodding once before returning your attention to the list. The rest seems easy, not like the job was ever hard to begin with, just an annoyance for better words. 

Maria clears her throat, “Anyway, you must make at least two meals a day, mainly breakfast and dinner, both at 8 am and 8 pm. Caledon might decide not to have lunch some days, but if he does, make sure it is brought to him by 12 pm. He doesn’t like tardiness, so as long as you follow the rules as tightly as you can, you won’t be a target. Any questions?”

“No, no. I’d presume you’d want to be heading out?” you smirk at her mischievously and instantly watch as her taut muscles relax.

“Very much so, yes! It’s been forever since I’ve had a moment of freedom.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you shoo her off playfully. This is your family’s mess to clean, the least you can do is let her be free of the shackles that are now passed down and chained to your ankles. 

Maria is halfway through the door when she turns to you from the foyer, “I’ll do a monthly checkup to make sure everything is in line, and for a little company in your lonesome, okay?”

You smile gratefully, hands coming up to play with your nails, “Thank you, you’re very kind. Though, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“A burden? You just gave me my freedom!” she exclaims, laughing as she waves a hand. “I’ll be back by the end of the month! Settle in and enjoy the quiet!”

The moment the door slams shut, your shoulders droop heavily. Your eyes scan the spacious mansion with frightening curiosity. You’ve never even remotely been near land such as this, and now that you’re inside, it feels almost too much. You let your hands glide the carved wooden banister as you walk up the huge steps to the second floor, taking a left down a hall.

Your legs carry you down the long corridor, and, as you place your key into the fob, your eyes lay onto the door across from yours: ‘Lord Hockley’ carved neatly on the door. There’s a rustling behind it and footsteps that approach the other side of the door, eliciting you to push the key one click further and dive through the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

You flop onto the bed with a huff, trying to calm the beating of your heart just enough to allow you to unpack and prepare dinner within the course of 3 hours. When your room is finished, you nod in satisfaction, taking a bath in the connected bathroom and changing into a thin, sheer dress before exiting your room and back down the steps to the kitchen.

Finally do you take the time to read the list on your own. It includes very detailed and descriptive instructions, easy nonetheless, of medication usages and what to do with each, meal plans, recipes, a map of which rooms to clean and how to clean each one, and Caledon’s nightly and morning rituals to follow precisely.

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll your neck to release the tension before opening the cookbook up to the recipe designed for today’s date. “Pork roast,” you state alloud, cringing at the echo of your voice being followed by more movement in Hockely’s room.

Your mind roams as your eyes get lost at the sight of the luscious woods out the window, hands deftly whisking away at the pork roast’s grease with the intent of making a nice gravy to coat the dry, but tender pork roast. Shaking your head, you peer down and try to busy yourself with the already settling boredom you’re consumed by. 

You can hear the halls creak, the water drip from the faucet, birds chirping outside, the soft sway of the wind, random clicks, ticks, and other noises. You’re destined to go insane.

You jump unexpectedly with the sound of a crash from upstairs. The noise comes from the general direction of Caledon’s room and you all but groan at what the sound indicates -  what your being here demands. 

Putting the roast of low, you close the lid with a soft click before ascending up the stairs to Caledon’s room. You stand outside the door, hand on your heart, as you try to calm your rapid heartbeat and breathing. This was to come about sooner rather than later, so you should be glad it’s happening now. However, the banging continues within the room and you know that even if you had met him in a few months, the hell that follows him would never be escaped for as long as your father’s debt remains.

Knocking on the hard wooden door, you speak softly, “Lord Hockley? Is everything alright?”

You’re not given an answer, only the sound of something heavy being thrown and falling to the floor.

“Lord Hockey?” you call out again, louder this time. Unsurprised, you are followed by no answer once more. Annoyance creeps into your words a third and final time, “Lord Hockley, I will come in there myself if you do not open this door. Now,” you demand.

Shrugging when no voice calls to you form the other side of the door, your hand twists the doorknob and pushes the door open. You legs carry you only so far before they stutter to a stop just past the door frame. 

Just before you, there is a disheveled, sweaty Caledon Hockley, fit from youth and some maturity in his thirties, shirtless. His eyes look crazed, like a madman, as his hands grip a chair at his desk with white knuckles. Around the room, there’s shelves torn down, broken, books in a disarray on the floor. His bedsheets are thrown about with the other chair from his desk propped against the wall in his fury.

You stare wide-eyed, but somehow, not alarmed in the slightest. You were accustomed to this sort of outburst, especially within the hard working men. You saw it in your father - even in your younger brother. “Lord Hockley,” your voice is softer again, all annoyance and anger lost at the door. 

His eyes snap up to you, as if he had just noticed your arrival or presence. “What are you doing in here? You are not to barge in a man’s room, that is uncouth for a woman of your age and status. What is wrong with you?”

“Lord Hockley-” you try to start your confession.

“A woman is not to speak up to a man; are you ferel? Are you-?”

You don’t allow him to finish his slandering, “-I am mentally efficient, Lord Hockley, and very aware of my positioning here. However, I did knock, three times to be exact, with no answer. There had been a ruckus in here for about-” you peer up at the clock above his desk, “-an hour and a half now. I came to be of assistance, but if my help is unwanted, I’d happily leave you to your self-pity on your own?”

He has no other emotion present except bewilderment plastered to his face; eyes wide, mouth agape, and at a struggle for words. His fists clench and unclench as his eyes pan down to stare at the floor, appearing deep in thought.

“Lord Hockley, if I may be so bold?” you ask, scanning his body language and searching to find the meaning of this man’s crazed outburst.

“Go ahead,” he mutters, a hand going up to rub some hair from his eyes, still staring at the floor. 

“You may confide in me if that means helping your mental health?” you offer. You know this could go one of two ways: either one, he’ll turn you away, suffer alone, and claim that men have no such weaknesses, or two, he’ll let his guard drop and release him from these dark episodes he’s no stranger to. The latter seems rather unlikely.

“I am not mental.”

“I did not say that. I was simply insisting that everyone has a dark place their mind goes to, which is a detriment to a person’s mental health. Let alone someone who is expected to heal quickly and pick up the family business, am I correct?”

Just as you thought you were getting somewhere, Cal’s eyes snap back up to yours with anger, the malicious anger tearing at his body again, “You know nothing of my family’s business and nothing of me. You have no audacity as to even assume or place yourself in my shoes. I should have you thrown out or hanged for your mouth alone. Get out!”

“Just trying to be of service, sir, since I’m at your will!” you smile sickeningly, bowing to him and sliding through the door just as a book is picked up and thrown.

You let out a deep breath of air on the other side of his door, now in the safety of the hallway. Your throat tightens with a soft sob, tears welling in your eyes. You truly feel as a prisoner on death row, hands and ankles encased in heavy metal cuffs; struggling to walk under the watchful gazes and heavy chains slowing you down, keeping you locked in this manor. 

You weren’t the perpetrator, you know this, but you were framed to support the guilty with your own naivety and love.

You drag yourself back down to the kitchen to finish the man’s meal with dejection, but still devoted for the greater future - when you no longer have to be a maid in this manor and be free, lost in the world again.

“Lord Hockley?” you call once more at his door, only this time, you’re holding his tray of dinner. “I have your meal, are you decent?”

You hear a muffled ‘Yes’ and proceed through the door cautiously.

It seems he’s settled now, sitting at his desk with notes and papers scattering the floor and desk. He hadn’t cleaned the room, which you suspected you’d have to clean in the near future. However, you notice the bed is drenched in liquid, and when you look back at him, you notice sweat beading at his forehead, a thin sheen of sweat glistening against his skin.

“Lord Hockley?” you call again, stepping closer towards him. He chooses not t answer you, so you press further. “You’re sweating.”

“I’m very well aware of what my body is doing.”

“Are you feeling ill? I can help you if-” you are cut off by his fist meeting the solid oak of the desk.

“I do not need any assistance from the likes of you, nor do I want it,” his voice is stern, scary.

You try not to lose your temper so easily this time, so you give him a kind, tight-lipped smile. “Of course, my lord, you are a man after all. A man is able to take care of himself just fine, though he installs many maids within his manor. Maids like me,” you giggle dryly, “What shall I do instead, since you are able to clean, cook, and much more without the help of the ‘likes of me’?”

Caledon only groans, “Just leave the food here, you are dismissed. I’ll leave my tray for you to clean in the morning.”

“Oh, how kind,” you roll your eyes, scurrying to the door.

“Oh, and Miss, maybe you could find a better countenance and leave your convictions in your pillow when you arise. Wouldn’t want to explain to my father - and yours - as to why you were no longer needed and let go.”

You can hear the sinister smirk in his voice, but you choose to ignore it - for now -  and head to bed briskly.

The next two weeks follow you in a similar form. You do as your told, albeit begrudgingly, and get into many of your childish arguments. Your interactions with the man are nasty and violent at times, always finding yourself dodging an object, taking threats, and coming in the next morning asking for more. 

More, more, more; you ask for more because there is nothing else to be given. You have to take everything as a grain of salt. You have to because this means your father’s life and yours. If you manage to screw up, and you will, they will not only have your father’s head, but yours for Caledon’s punctured ego.

Though, somewhere within those weeks, you started to care less and less.

“Lord Hockley?” you knock at his door, tray of food in hand. He once more gives you no answer, so you push in.

Greeted by no light in the room, you walk around in the darkness, knowing this room like the back of your palm now. Placing the tray of food on the oak countertop and go to strike a match, lighting the candle on the desk. Going around the room, you light each and every one of them until the room is dimly lit enough to see.

On the bed, you find Caledon, sweat having gotten worse as you’ve noticed he never leaves his room. When you step closer, he is shivering, teeth chattering. Worried, you go to place the back of your hand to his forehead, but quickly draw your hand back when he jerks upright.

“Lord Hockley!” you jump, the ghost of his skin still lingering on the pads of your fingers. “You’re burning up, I need to help assist you now. You’re very ill and the sickness has gone on long enough-”

“No!” his voice rips through you quiet pleas, rattling off the walls.

“But, Lord Hockley-”

“I said ‘No’! I do not want assistance, I am a grown man!”

“’You can take care of yourself’, yeah, yeah, bullshit!” you scream, the frustration, fear, and hurt finally meeting your words as you are blinded by your emotions.

“What did you say?” Caledon looks at you in disbelief.

You cringe as you can guess what is about to take place in mere minutes, but you don’t hold back anymore. “Is your bigotry deafening your hearing or did you hear me call bullshit?”

Shakily, Caledon gets off his bed, his frame towering yours as he glares down at you with pale skin and dark, chocolate brown eyes.

“Your father wouldn’t want you to be sick, knowing that you would have to run his business soon.”

“My father-” Caledon cuts himself off, a hand going to wipe his face. “This has nothing to do with the business.”

“No? Well then, why else would I have to pamper you like a king? Is it because you’re defective?”

Caledon’s pacing now, trying to calm his increasing ragged breathing.

“Or is it because your useless to him? Mentally unstable?” you continue, trying to get a rise out of him.

“You know nothing of his business nor my personal life!” Caledon snaps back to you, anger finally bursting.

As his anger ensues, he takes steps close to you each time, piercing his thick index finger into you chest for emphasis. “You are nothing, you are worthless. I am a wealthy businessman. I am a strong, independent man with power. People would miss me if I were gone!”

“If you’re such a big man, you wouldn’t lock yourself away in your room like a toddler.”

That’s what finally did him in. You pressed a personal button when your short quips finally hit a nerve, testing his masculinity. Before you have time to react, a glass vase is hurled at you. It was a short throw, and was nowhere near your face, however it caught you by surprise and smashed against your hip.

You ignore the pain, though all you wanted to do was bury yourself in a hole. You came here to help him, but all you are returning is anger and hurt that is most definitely placed at you. 

“You’re sick and it is my job to take care of you, so your father won’t have my ass because his baby boy isn’t okay. It’s my job to make sure you are very well satisfied. It is my job that you get your linens washed, food prepared, room cleaned, and make it my duty that your estate is fully functioning all on my own!” you jab a finger in his direction, placing more distance between your bodies until your back hits his door, his body on the other side of the room behind his desk.

He goes to say more, but you cut him off with more furious blows.

“Though, what isn’t my job is to allow you to threaten me. It isn’t my job to be belittled and yelled at by you. It isn’t my job to allow you to throw objects and whatever anger you have and hurl them at me! That is not my job, nor what I will allow any longer!”

“I never asked you to be here. I didn’t want you here. You forced yourself into my estate to protect your father. You knew what you were getting into just by the public papers alone. You knew what was to be expected and yet you came here anyway. You made a prisoner and a victim of yourself.” Caledon’s gaze does not falter and neither does yours.

“You’re correct, Lord Hockley, I may have known what I was getting myself into. What I didn’t know nor expect was the childish frustration and blatant disregard for human decency. I’ve tried over and over again to be kind, but against your better judgement, you couldn’t allow me to be the person to hold such compassion.” 

Your eyes are welling up with tears now as you feel a warm liquid flow down your palm and to the tips of your fingers.

“You do not understand what is bothering me and you never will,” Caledon finally starts to calm himself, the self-pity returning as he recounts lost memories you cannot decipher.

“No, but I have made it abundantly clear that I was here to help assist you. However, you saw it as being weak, so it wasn’t in your cards to even allow me the common courtesy of being a human being. You felt as if I was lying to you.”

“God, you are so annoying,” Caledon groans.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“You know, when you’re silent, I almost like you -  wait, are you injured?”

“No!” you yell almost instantaneously. 

“Did I do that? Its dripping on the floor, what happened?”

“The glass,” you almost stutter, the atmosphere changing quickly. “The glass shatter and cut some of my hand, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“And, you’re ill.”

Caledon sighs, his shoulders slumping. Motioning for you to exit the room, Caledon says nothing as you make a silent pact to clean up. 

You are suffering whiplash from the sudden change of emotion and it leaves you on edge, but with the cooling of his mood, it allows the adrenaline and some stiffness to leave you. Confusion overtakes your mind.

Guided into the kitchen, you start to take out numerous medications, searching for something to accommodate his symptoms. Caledon walks up to you quietly, almost afraid to get too close.

You do not say or look at each other, finally finding the right medicine and sliding it to him on the counter before sitting down on one of the bar stools. He sits beside you carefully, taking the medicine. 

Taking some gauze and wiping away the cuts with an alcohol wipe, you struggle to wrap your hand. That is, until a warmer, larger one goes to encompass it gently, waiting for an action of opposition to its intentions.

Caledon gaze burns the side of your head before you finally acknowledge him with fear. Softly, he starts, “…Just allow me to help?”

You nod softly as the tears form in your eyes again. Some time passes before you finally work up the nerve to ask, “Why do you do this?” 

Caledon looks up from you hand with confusion, which urges you on to elaborate, “Why does your mood change so swiftly, so suddenly?”

Sighing, Caledon gives you a firm look, as if he’s deciding whether to trust you or not -  to tell you. “The Titanic,” he starts, “When I survived, I lost almost all of who I was. When I returned home to my father, I was constantly burdened with memories. They would consume me, control me, until I felt like a madman. The only solution was anger. When the anger takes control, there is no longer that burning sadness, guilt, and regret; no hoping I’d done something differently. I couldn’t allow myself to do that because I was no longer that man anymore.”

“It’s scary,” you croak, peering into his eyes.

“It is, but what’s worse is the life I’ve lived after the episodes. My father found me defective, worthless. I will never be able to fully recover, which is bad for business. He locked me away in this estate to stay hidden from prying eyes, bedridden to remain unseen even in this secluded property. I insist on doing the simplest actions myself because it makes me feel as if I’m showing my father I am still capable, just changed.”

You nod slowly as you take in this new information, grateful. The man has finally opened up to you, he’s no longer a stranger in his own home as it seems.

Calmly, Caledon pats your hand, signalling that the wrapping is done. A hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair from your face, resting it on your cheek just afterwards. “I know I’ve hurt you, but please, try to understand me, I’m not asking for your forgiveness... I just wanted you to understand-”

“You don’t need to ask that, I already forgave you a long time ago,” you smile softly, placing one of your hands on his opposing cheek. “We will learn to adapt, just as you have many times before. We are no longer strangers, yeah?”

“Yes,” Caledon smiles with glossy eyes.

“We will work on this together. You are not alone anymore.”

Caledon looks at you with uncertainty.

“I am here, always. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Kissing his forehead softly, you other hand goes to be placed on his shoulder, “Repeat it.”

“I am not alone,” a tear slides down his cheek.

“Not as long as I’m alive,” you smirk, placing a kiss to each of his eyelids.

“Never again,” the both of you say together, lips finally meeting as if to seal the promise the both of you now shared deep in your hearts. 

“Never alone.”

[swanimagines]

TITANIC AO3 SERIESES

EVERYTHING FOR TITANIC

Jack Dawson

(Any of the other characters don't have any requests written nor pending as for now, so I'm unable to have serieses for them as AO3 requires you to have at least one oneshot written to be able to add it to a series, and I can't promise serieses for characters who don't have requests pending/I have no ideas of my own for them)

For anyone who's concerned, THESE ARE NOT ONESHOT COLLECTIONS, they are made using AO3's "series" feature.

If you want to be informed about new fics for Titanic or its individual characters, create an AO3 account and subscribe or bookmark any of those serieses listed above. There are buttons at the top right corner for those, or on top on mobile. I do not do Tumblr taglists anymore.

Also, if you're wondering, requests are ALWAYS open and you're welcome to leave one or multiple. Just remember to read my rules and pick a request type from this list.

[iixch]

☆ iixch production

Simon’s dog doesn’t know bros before hoes

synopsis: his dog simply knows your superior and it pisses him off

warning: cursing

more Titan shenanigans: pt.2 - pt.3

He was about to throw the mutt on the grill.

He couldn’t believe his great dane was puppy dog eyeing you for scratches. The dog was half your damn size.

Simon was worried at first, despite your excitement, when he told you he owned a dog. His great dane, Titan, was intimidating to most and he had a bad temper. He had spent weeks trying to slowly get you and Titan acquainted, he worried that the giant dog would growl or bark at you and scare you off.

He worried for nothing.

The minute you visit his house for the first time with a pup cone, Titan loved you. Since that first meeting, Titan has yearned and earned your affection, and attention. Which you have never denied him.

It has gotten to the point that Simon feels he’s third wheeling in his own relationship- when it comes to you and his dog!

And god forbid he and you disagree.

Simon wasn’t even yelling, he was just passionately explaining his reasoning. You huffed and rolled your eyes- at what to you, sounded like excuses. Crossing your arms in annoyance. To which Simon’s takes a step forward and grabs your arm (to uncross them) before Titan comes and pushes Simon behind his knees and barks.

Flabbergasted and furious, Simon quickly turns glaring at his dog.

“The fuck you looking at, mate? Were just talking.”

To which in counter argument, Titan just continues his barking- and Simon has to retort to putting him in his cage in the laundry room, where the barks were (more or less) muffled.

“When did you become someone’s bitch?” Simon mumbles to Titan as he watches as you sit on the floor so the overly large dog can lay across your lap.

“Don’t be jealous, Si.” You tell him chuckling as you scratch Titan behind his ear, his tail wagging nonstop.

“I’m not jealous of a damn dog.” He huffs, arms crossed.

Titan looks up from your lap to meet Simon’s eyes, before- and he swears he does- grinning. Simon’s dog isn’t his anymore and is under your spell, and now he has a proper hellion on his hands, and you are none the wiser.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

He couldn't afford to lose another kid knowing he's going to lose one just for the battle to end.

[foolsocracy]

anon sent an ask abt roy and garth but it vanished into thin air so this ones for you, wherever you are

[cheriecoke]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss. 

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live. 

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.” 

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.” 

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks. 

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice. 

levi makes his way towards the door. 

“levi?” 

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t. 

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought. 

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.” 

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting. 

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter. 

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle. 

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess. 

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say. 

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first. 

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red. 

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you. 

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice. 

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness. 

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned. 

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety. 

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?” 

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.” 

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.” 

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.” 

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.” 

“five—” 

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.

[jellofish-plant]

Proof of Existence

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Summary: You were used to waiting up for Jason after patrol, but you weren’t expecting Robin to be the one to climb through your window instead. Damian Wayne is determined to prove that Jason was lying about having a girlfriend, and unfortunately, that means invading your apartment at an ungodly hour. Things only escalate when he calls in reinforcements, and by the time Jason actually arrives, he finds you in the middle of a full-blown Wayne family interrogation.

Warnings: Fluff, sleep deprivation, Batfamily chaos, Jason being grumpy but soft

[Masterlist]

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you glanced at the clock. 2:37 AM.

Jason was late. Again.

You weren’t exactly worried he was Red Hood, after all but you hated waiting up for him, exhaustion pulling at your limbs while the city lights flickered outside your window.

You barely had time to close your eyes before you heard a rustling noise near the fire escape. Immediately alert, you tensed, but before you could reach for your phone, the window slid open.

A small, caped figure landed silently in your living room.

You blinked. “You’re not Jason.”

Damian Wayne Robin, Gotham’s tiniest menace straightened up, arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinized you with a critical gaze.

“So you are real,” he muttered.

You stared at him, still half-asleep. “Excuse me?”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Todd claims he has a girlfriend. I assumed it was a delusion. But…” He took a step closer, inspecting you like a rare specimen. “You exist.”

“Uh… yeah?” you said slowly, watching as he started pacing around the apartment.

“This is unfortunate,” he muttered to himself.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s almost three in the morning, Damian. Did you break in just to confirm I’m not imaginary?”

“I could have waited for Todd to bring you to the Manor, but that would’ve taken forever.” Damian wandered over to the bookshelf, tilting his head as he scanned the titles. “Hmph. Your taste in literature is acceptable.”

“Oh, thank God, I was really losing sleep over that one,” you deadpanned.

Damian ignored you, already moving to your kitchen. He opened the fridge, scowled, then closed it again. “You don’t eat enough protein.”

You groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Jason is going to kill you when he finds out you’re here.”

“Tt. I doubt it.”

Unfortunately, before you could kick him out, he pulled a communicator from his belt.

“You’re not—”

Too late.

“Drake, come in. I have urgent news,” Damian said, voice completely serious.

There was a brief static crackle before a groggy voice responded. “Damian, it’s late. What could possibly—”

“She’s real.”

Silence.

Then—“No f**ing way.”*

You groaned loudly, covering your face with a pillow.

A few minutes later, your front door actually opened, this time with a key Tim Drake, still in his Red Robin suit but looking like he regretted every decision that led him here.

“Oh my God,” Tim breathed, staring at you like he’d just seen a ghost. “Jason actually has a girlfriend.”

“Why does everyone think I’m fake?” you demanded.

Tim grinned. “Because Jason refuses to let us meet you. Honestly, I thought you were just an excuse for him to leave family dinners early.”

Damian huffed. “As if Todd would be clever enough for that.”

You sighed. “Okay. Great. Mystery solved. You guys can leave now—”

Knock knock.

Oh, come on.

The door opened again, and in strolled none other than Dick Grayson—Nightwing himself—looking far too excited for this hour.

“Ohhhh, this is fantastic,” he said, beaming as he took in the scene. “We finally have proof! Jason’s not making it up!”

“I hate all of you,” you grumbled, pulling Jason’s discarded hoodie over your head as if that could make them all disappear.

“Are you being held against your will?” Dick asked, only half-joking.

“No, but I will commit a crime if you don’t let me sleep.”

Before Dick could respond, the window slammed open again.

“What the hell is going on?”

Jason stood on the fire escape, mask half-off, hair a mess, and murder in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Jason,” Tim greeted casually. “Nice place.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “Are you—why—” He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “It is three in the goddamn morning.”

“Yes, I noticed,” you said dryly.

Jason turned to you, taking in the way you looked tired, wrapped in his hoodie, blanket half-falling off the couch. His jaw tightened. “Baby, why are you still up?”

You gestured vaguely to the three idiots in your apartment. “Ask them.”

Jason’s glare could’ve set the building on fire. “What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Confirming she’s real,” Damian said simply.

Jason groaned. “Are you kidding me? You—” He pointed at Damian. “Go home. You—” Now at Tim. “Stop enabling this. And you—” Dick raised his hands before Jason could finish.

“Relax, Jaybird,” Dick said, smirking. “We’re just excited to meet the girl you’ve been hiding.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

“Are you two really dating?” a new voice cut through.

Stephanie Brown Batgirl was standing by the window now, her blonde hair messy from a night’s patrol. She crossed her arms, raising a brow at you. “I’m sorry, but I had to see for myself. I really thought it was just some weird ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m just here for the popcorn,” Duke Thomas The Signal grinned from the doorway, joining the chaos with his own brand of enthusiasm.

Jason stood frozen, arms crossed, looking like he was about to explode. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Dick teased, leaning in and nudging Jason. “You can’t hide her anymore.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “I swear to God…”

“Jason, relax,” you said, trying to calm him down, but your voice still laced with amusement. “Your family’s just a little... excited.”

Jason turned to you, his expression softening just a little. “I’m sorry, baby.” He pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t expect them to turn up like this, but…” He shot his family one last glare before pulling you closer. “I think I need some alone time with my girlfriend now.”

Everyone groaned in unison.

“You know what, fine,” Tim sighed, pushing himself off the wall. “We’ve gotten the proof we need. No more interruptions. You two have a good night.”

“You guys are the worst,” you muttered, laughing as Jason huffed beside you.

And when they finally filed out, leaving you alone with Jason, you sank back into his arms, letting the chaos of the Batfamily fade into the background.

Jason chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Well, at least they like you.”

You smirked. “Yeah, I think I’ve officially been inducted into the Batfamily now.”

Jason snorted. “They’ll never leave us alone again, will they?”

“Not unless we’re really convincing at family dinners,” you teased.

Jason sighed, but there was a fond look in his eyes. “Maybe we’ll make a run for it next time.”

You laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan.”

[ndglt]

I had to do dick justice and hide that enormous forehead

anyway here's my rendition of the cutest canon picture of the tween titans IT'S SO CUTE (if we ignore the context on why we see the picture)

[moechies]

“armin— gimme y’r c—cum . . “

you whine into armin’s neck, soft blonde locks tickling against your temples. “ ‘min . .”

“fuck— fuck, hold on,”

the poor boys loosing his composure, your warm soppy cunt warped gorgeously around his sore cock. he’s dizzy with the way you’re riding his taut cock, bouncing up and down his lap at a dragged pace, your chubby ass dropping against his meaty thighs before you lift your hips again.

“‘s good. so good— pretty—“

“‘minnn— cum in me ‘ready, please . .”

you sniffle, wrapping your arms tight around his neck. you press a wet his to the shell of his ear, feeling the man shiver below you with a low, sultry moan. “y’r big,” you cry, tossing your head back. “c—can’t anymore—!”

“no, you can. just a little more, a little more for ‘min, okay.” armin grumbles, mouth agape with his brows furrowed. his fingers dig into the chub of your hips, burning indents of his digits pressed into your skin — almost as if branding you.

“‘m gonna cum, baby. baby, don’t slow, please—“ he’s rambling. it’s your favorite part of fucking the weak, weak man — his stupid rambles against your chest, the apple of his palms traveling all across your body now and not merely still on your hips.

his left arm comes to wrap behind your body, pulling you in close until you feel his soft skin pressed up against yours. his right hand comes to palm at your naked breasts, fondling them so gently it’s turning them sensitive.

his arm wrapped around your back drops to the curve of your ass, armin’s middle finger tittering gently across your golden skin to press into your puckered ass.

you yelp, pussy twitching when you feel armin press the tip of his finger into the rim of your ass, mewling quietly as he shushes you,

“‘m—min . . y’r dirty . . dirty p—pervert.” you shake your butt a tad, the foreign fill unfamiliar.

“am . . i’m sorry baby, so, so sorry— don’t stop. please,”

his finger motions slightly, pumping erratically at the same pace of his cock impaling your pussy. you cry, soft pussy sore and aching. “min, min . . please . . “

“i know. please . . keep goin’ hun. inside to make it up to my baby? alrigh’?”

[queer-obsession]

You watch him finishing washing the dishes while you sit at the counter. It's quiet, but not like the uncomfortable quiet of a few hours ago after you two fought. You had had dinner and talked it over, smoothing things out. Typically, your communication is pretty good so your fights rarely last more than a few hours. "You don't yell," You say out loud before you can stop yourself. That was supposed to be an inner thought, but oh well.

He pauses for a moment before going back to drying off the dishes. "There's no reason to. It's unnecessary," He responds like it's the most simple thing in the world. "It's not like you yell either," He adds as he opens the cabinet to put the dishes away.

You blink for a moment as you watch his back. "I've yelled at you before," You reply, though ashamed to admit it.

He shakes his head and sighs. "Not since we first started dating and I learned quickly you only yell when you feel cornered or challenged," He tells you as the plates slide into their proper spot. "If I don't escalate then you don't either." He speaks as if analyzing you is the simplest thing he's ever done.

You don't know how to respond to that or the fact that he knows you so well. So, you simply sit there, at the island, as he puts away the last of the dishes before he closes the cabinet and turns to you. "It's kinda weird though," You say before you can stop yourself. "That you rarely raise your voice."

He simply raises an eyebrow as he sets the dish towel on the counter. "It's not weird. What's weird is when you scream at your partner thinking it will solve anything," He replies calmly as he walks over to the island and sets his elbows on it. "It's loud, counterproductive, unnecessary, and just prolongs everything. I have no need to do it." The way he says it makes it seem like common sense and it is, but sometimes it's hard to remember that.

You trace your finger across the island before reaching for his hand across from you. "I don't either," You whisper as you lace your fingers. He nods and squeezes your hand in response and just like that, everything feels so easy and so right.

-----

AIZAWA, Todoroki, Kirishima, IZUKU, Shinsou (mha), AKAASHI, Kenma, KITA, Ushijima, IWAIZUMI (hq), NANAMI (jjk), Erwin, Armin (aot), GIYUU, OBANAI, GYOMEI, RENGOKU (kny), Chris (daiya), and your favorites <3

[80s4life]

The Things I’ve Never Done Pt.8

Word Count: 2,695

Status: Suggested!

@: @outrosins & numerous lovely Nonnies!

A/N: It;s been like a year of multiple ideas and ways to continue this book, but I’ve finally got the ending in mind. These last chapters are gonna HURT!

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Relationship: Caledon "Cal" Hockley x Brown!Female!Reader

Summary: All dreams come to an end soon enough; and that meant the end of the small vacation on the Titanic. Bonds are formed, broken, and pulled as the last, fond memories of the Titanic come to a close - before its name is encompassed by a dark pit in your heart. 

Warnings: mature language, switches between past and present day Y/N, some angst, fluff, this is April 13th in April 14th, 1912 when the Titanic sinks in the early hours of the morning, dreams of the future, some nostalgia from older Y/N, uncertain future in the end

Masterlist Titanic Masterlist Part One Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4* Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9   Pt.10 [epilogue]

Taglist: @tangledcopperstrands @snapessecretdiary

{gif is not mine, credits go to @ofdyingdragons​}

Y/N had made her bed that morning, something she didn’t do regularly or without being instructed by her mother. She cleaned her room up and left no traces of dirt behind, skipping breakfast altogether to bask in a long bath. Molly had told the women that she was feeling seasick, allowing her daughter the freedom society only allows rarely.

By lunch, Y/N was draped along a lawn chair on the side deck, reading a novel with a glass of tea. After some choice wording, her mother tore away from the wealthy folk too, and snuck away with her daughter for bonding time. She found her on the deck and played games, describing the shapes of the clouds and just embracing random conversations. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to Y/N every time they did something like this; to just bask in her companionship and bond with her mother.

And, by night, Y/N sat at the table with the rest of the people once more, claiming she’d felt better with a smile and sly glance at her partners in crime: Caledon Hockley and Molly Brown. It was the same banter, the same gossip. It felt like nothing was out of place and no one had seemed to truly admire the normalcy. 

To Be Continued...

Chapter 8: All Good Things Come To A Bittersweet End

<3rd Person Perspective>

With a glass of wine in her hand, Y/N continues to rock in her chair, eyes blurred as she recounts the memories of decades past. Her eyes are trained on her hand, still holding the sharpened pencil above the drawing in her lap; another one to add to all of her special drawings in the folder on the coffee table beside her. The picture, looking back at her, simply just brings more pain. She can still remember the people she’d met, the roles that were so miniscule then, but mean so much to her now. She can still recall the content happiness, humbled hopes and dreams of the young girl she was. 

That final day was spent dilly dallying and daydreaming, and for once, she recounts feeling whole -  a total and complete fulfillment of what she had on her checklist. She’d found her man of her dreams, saw life for what it was, spent time into education, and was excited for her new adventure in America.

Swirling the alcohol in her glass, she takes a sip. She’d hoped that feeling would’ve lasted. Even now, she fears that feeling would never amount to feel completely and utterly the same again.

///

April 13, 1912

The next day had followed in a blur of events. The poor danced, the rich drank, and everyone talked. As for Y/N, she was found by the stern, cigarette in hand as she watches each individual plume of smoke touch the cold, night air, and disappear. She smirks as she dreams of the future ahead of her and it looks beautiful through her pink shades: a few babies running around buck naked, Cal smiling as he chases them with her placing a hand on her stomach, another to come. They’d be happy with a family of their own, comfortable in their suitable wealth with no other care other than their little bubble they would create.

“There you are,” Cal says softly, his hands going around to encase her waist, head plopping atop her head. “What are you up to?”

“Mischief, of course,” Y/N giggles, one hand going to lay atop his as she finishes off her cigarette. “I was dreaming of our future,” she smiles.

“Ah,” he smirks, “And how does it look?”

Y/N tries to sum up all her feelings into one, beautiful word, choosing them properly, “Gilded and achieved.”

Cal places a kiss on her head, not completely understanding of the choice of words, poking her side to prod her on.

“I would achieve and earn everything I wanted. We would be one, I would be loved and cared for, have a family and live up to my greatest desires. Everything I dreamed I would have as a child would finally finish off the lifelong puzzle I’ve been trying to complete - all I would need would be that final piece.”

“And, what is that final piece?” Cal asks, a look of fear crossing his features as he fears he would not have everything she needed.

“You,” Y/N smiles, turning around in his grasp to wrap her arms around his neck, hands toying with the hairs of his nape. “If I don’t have you, I wouldn’t have that future, would I? At least, not the ending I would hope to obtain without you.”

“I’m right here,” Cal pecks her forehead, “I don’t intend on going anywhere.”

“That’s g-” Y/N is cut off by the sound of boisterous laughter, soon cut off by the company of the pair. 

Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt Bukater stand before Cal and Y/N, hand in hand with surprise and fear in their eyes. Rose is the first to break the silence, “Cal,” she states, standing defiantly and straight, making sure her hands in Jack’s are known.

“Rose,” Cal says indifferently.

Y/N’s gaze sets upon Cal’s features. He’s fighting an internal war. He knows that he believes Y/N is his forever, but with the sight of Rose, the woman he had been trying to make his wife and future for months, he cannot resist the urge to still fight for her.

“After all this time that I’ve tried to give you everything, to appease your mother and make you both all the more comfortable, you choose him?” Cal asks, a sickness to his tone that causes Y/N to relinquish her grasp on his hand.

She feared this would happen; she feared that she would spend all this time getting to know and love this man for nothing.

“Cal, this does not concern you,” Rose states calmly, trying not to provoke the threatening man.

“This has everything to do with me! What would your mother say? What about your misfortunes, hm? You’d rather be this rat’s whore?”

“I’d rather be his whore than your wife!” Rose yells in defiant freedom. 

Y/N is unable to stand another moment. She’s simply watching the man throw everything away just so he can obtain someone he never had. He simply cannot let the past be the past, and this ruins her. 

With a soft sniff, Y/N tears away from the group, running away from the area to be alone. She starts off on the starboard just as a hand grabs her wrist. “Y/N,” Jack almost questions her, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“How could I be alright?” she almost screams at the young man. “I can’t stand there and watch my heart break for the third time! I can’t keep watching him choose her over and over and over again...There’s simply no space for me here.”

“Y/N, this will all work itself out, I’m sure of it. You can’t let a good thing go. They’ll...They’ll learn that they’re not meant for each other. You just have to keep pushing.”

Y/N sniffles as her arms wrap around herself. “They’ve already gotten into this type of issue before, and for all I know, this may be a young girl’s fling. I’ve only known the man for a short time. This could all just be nothing at all,” Y/N concludes, trying to mature herself for the first time in her young adulthood.

Jack groans, “Do you love him?”

“I don’t even know if it’s-”

“The feelings you have right now, in this moment, is it love, Y/N?”

“I-I think so. What does this even-”

“These feelings are strong, yes? And, it’s so strong that you’re willing to die for him, go poor with him, help him when he’s ill?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all that matters, Sugar,” Jack smiles, “That’s love and you better not waste it, even if it seems helpless. Everything can be fixed.”

“God, you sound like my mother. You need to stop keeping her company,” Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, turning back to Cal and Rose, “But, what about them?”

“Oh, he’ll realize he’s an ass and eventually get over his issues.”

“And, Rose?” Y/N giggles.

“She’ll be mine and waltzing off the ship with me.”

“You seem so certain for such a man of...”

“Oh, no, don’t stop there,” Jack giggles, “Continue off of ‘poor misfortunes.’”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Y/N giggles, shoving his shoulder. 

“I know, and I’ll make it all up to her. Just promise we’ll meet again sometime.”

“As long as you’re still in the country, Jack Dawson.”

“Can’t make any promises. It ruins the fun.”

“Then, you’re just a hypocrite then?”

“Sounds about right,” he giggles, jogging away with a wave as Rose tears away from Cal and back around the other direction of the ship’s stern.

Y/N awaits Him with annoyed devotion, arms crossed as Cal catches her eyes. “You have your fun yet?” she asks with annoyance.

Cal simply says nothing, head bowed with stress and uneven thoughts. He starts to walk over to Y/N once more, but he fears if he gets too close, he’d be even more confused than before.

“I know it’s not love we share, Rose and I, but there’s an obligation somewhere in the wind,” Cal starts, eyes still focused on the ship’s starboard planks. “We were - I chased after her for a long time, Y/N. I went through her father, but then he passed away, so I tried to proceed on my own, but she seemed uninterested. I would’ve left her alone, Y/N, I would have, but then her mother came to me. She said everything would be fixed and she’d convince the stubborn girl.”

“So, you do love her,” Y/N tries to remain nonchalant, hands on her hips as if she’s figuring this mystery out with him. She’s trying, she really is, but she can;t help the feeling she would be discarded; that all she had just said to him and the many days prior were just something Cal needed to heal himself and move on. Y/N couldn’t - wouldn’t - be this girl for him: a rebound.

“That’s where I’m lost!” Cal chuckles stressfully, hand going to comb his hair back before he plays with the rings on his fingers. “I was so caught up in the chase, influenced by others, that I lost that spark I thought I had for her. It’s pitiful, really, but all the same painful for both ends. I didn’t mean to bring her through all of this, but I thought it was love that we shared. I just wanted to be that man for her because everyone thought I was. I don’t think I love her anymore Y/N, but I do feel there is a sense of protection and care that I still carry.”

Y/N looks at him impassively, “Well, do you love me?”

“I don’t think I know what love is, Y/N.”

“That’s not good enough, Cal. I know how I feel for you; I’ve told you a million times over, too. I’m willing to set my life down on you, but I can’t do that if you aren’t willing enough to do the same.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You don’t want to keep me either, it seems.”

“I-I do, Y/N, it’s just difficult,” Cal snaps his eyes to meet hers, hand reaching for hers with a pained look. “I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.”

Y/N stares at his hand for a moment, debating on whether or not she’d be willing to follow this man with his heart in knots. She wants him, she knows this, but the question is if he wants her. She fears she might walk down this path with him and somewhere in the woods, he decides it was all a mistake.

“I think you should talk to Jack,” Y/N suggests with a small smile. “He’s very smart and a good ear. He gives very good advice, too, and it seems you need it.”

Cal tries to reach his hand out for her to grab once more, but she pulls even farther away. 

“I want you to think this over, Cal, please. I need you to think this over just as much as you do. I don’t want either of use to regret this in the end and I wish for you to be happy. I’m not leaving, not yet. Just - think everything over, and don’t put your heart on me just because you know I need you. I’ll be in my room with my mother when you’ve thought it through,” Y/N smiles warmly. “Besides, even if we don’t work out, we can always be companions and have a crazy story to tell. Maybe cut the infidelity part out.”

Slowly, Y/N avoids Cal’s hands as she leans into him. His arms wrap around her waist as she stands in the embrace. His head leans into the crook of her shoulder in a bone-crushing grasp. She would give anything to hug him back, but it would make him the more confused. 

Her hands come up to cup his face, her thumbs stroking the apple of his cheeks. She smiles with a sadness in her features, eyes slightly glossy. Slowly, she leans in to peck a soft kiss to his forehead, then both eyelids, and finally, his mouth with a featherlight touch.

Just as quickly as she had entered his space, she removes herself completely, the immediate chill returning to Cal’s body and heart. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N smirks over her shoulder, keeping face in front of the man who had broken her and filled her up multiple times in their short while being on the RMS Titanic.

Once she is finally out of view does she let her facade fall, tears brimming her eyes quickly as she makes her way to the bow of the ship, needing some air. She wishes this wouldn’t be so hard, but she knows emotions tend to get in the way of things. What may seem to be such a simple answer would be ignorant to include all the attachments and effects a decision has.

Y/N knows, for her own selfish greed, that she would want Cal to be hers fully, but she also knows that that wouldn’t come about easily. Even if Cal were to pick her tonight, he would still have to learn a life without a woman he had grand intentions for; a man who felt so strongly for a woman and her protection just a few days ago - even if the woman never wanted him.

It’s a hard decision.

Y/N continues to think and mull over her options as she sits on a bench at the front decks, basking in the cold and enjoying the view of the stars. Drawn from her thoughts, in the far distance before her, there’s a huge, dark figure.

She jolts up quickly, fearfully watching as the figure grows closer by the second. It doesn’t take long until the true size of the figure, in its everlasting glory, makes itself apparent.

“Iceberg, straight ahead!” the men yell from their posts above her.

Quickly, Y/N runs back towards the starboard of the Titanic where she had last seen Cal, but she isn’t fast enough. The ships turns sharply to the left, the iceberg coming straight for the right side. Her side. Cal’s side. 

She’s forced to throw herself flush with the wall, the ice slamming onto the starboard as a hard, disastrous screech of metal is met with an unstabling shake. Falling on the deck’s wooden planks, she stares in horror as she feels the premature grief and paralyzing fear.

The Titanic has been hit. 

[gabstea]

Imagine riding Levi. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t admit it, but hell, he loves when you ride him.

His hands on your waist, guiding, then moving to your hips, where his fingers leave marks from how tight his grip is.

The way he nods as you grind, silently urging you to keep going. His eyes—those gray eyes—watch you with so much love and desire. Even if he wants to close them, he can’t. They’re half-lidded, glossy for some reason. And the little pants slipping from his lips... He doesn’t care if you are cumming on his cock, because the moment you stop—even if it’s just to catch your breath, his hand moves automatically to your neck, choking you and pulling your pretty face closer. His lips brushing your ear.

"Keep going, baby. We’re not done… keep fucking yourself." His husky voice cuts through the air, low, rough, breathless. It feels like a threat—a sinful one—that turns you into a damn puddle.

His other hand grips your hip, guiding you, helping you keep bouncing. It’s overwhelming, no matter if it’s your first orgasm of the night or the fifth, he has this way of making you a mess…

I headcanon Levi during intimate moments calling you 'baby', okay? Okay, hahaha

[iixch]

☆ iixch production

Simon and the great cockblock

synopsis: Titan (simon’s great dane and everyone’s favorite canine) is pushing boundaries, and there is only so much Simon can allow. But when Titan becomes an official cockblock, his owner has had enough.

warning: curse & smutty

more Titan shenanigans: pt.1 - pt.3

He wanted it to be special, it was your second year anniversary of being with you and he needed it to go just the way he knew you would love it. He made all the necessary reservations, arrangements and plans so when they day came everything would go as planned.

and everything did in fact, go as planned,

almost.

You had just made it back to his home from your

dinner at the restaurant. You both dined wonderfully, and wined just enough so that you were both loose and relaxed than before.

Coming in he closed the door and was instantly on you, having you cornered between himself and the front door.

“Can’t believe you wore this dress just for me,” He says with a dark grin as his hands go to your waist. Pulling himself closer against you, and in turn your back on the door as he goes to press his lips against your neck. “Such pretty wrapping paper for the gift underneath,” He murmurs between kisses.

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, baring your neck to a side, inviting his affections. “Mm, I know I hit the nail on the head with this years gift,” You say with a chuckle.

“Every year with you is a gift, sweet girl.” He says pulling back from the skin of your neck to your eyes, his right hand slithering up your side to then hold your jaw. “Can I kiss you, love?”

You smile and chuckle to his chivalry. “You better kiss me,” You tease as you pull yourself tighter against him, your dress and his dress shirt the only material between you two as he leans down kissing your lips.

Every thought in his mind is a thought of you. Every desire coursing through his body is desire for you. Every breath he breathes, is in need of you.

So of course he’s oblivious to the fact he forgot to put Titan in his cage. But he’s reminded when as you’ve just opened your mouth enough for him to delve deep-

Bark!

Followed by Simon grunting as Titan pushes him behind the back of the legs.

“The fuck-” Simon pulls away from you and immediately scowls at the appearance of the canine. “I forgot to put the big shit in his cage.” He huffs.

“Awww, hi Titan,” you say going and bending down to pet the big loving dog. “You missed me?” Titan of course sits politely so you can pet him, tail wagging and eyes wide.

Simon glares at Titan as you slip away from his hold to pet the damn dog.

“I’m going to put him in his cage,” Simon says grabbing Titan by the collar to guide him.

“No, don’t do that. He’s a good boy, just let him be. You and me can just close the door to the room.” You tell him as you give Titan a kiss on the head before standing up. “Be nice to him.”

Simon rolls his eyes, before pulling your hand and guiding you through the house to his bedroom. Muttering annoyed by the canines presence, as Titan follows you two. When you both enter the room and Titan tries to follow, you gingerly close the door before he can enter.

Simon, trying to push the interruption behind him, sits down on the edge of his bed, before calling you over, “Love, get over here.”

With a smirk and a smile you walk over before sitting yourself down on his lap. “You should just focus on me, ignore the distractions,” You tease as your hands behind unbuttoning his shirt.

Simon huffs at the remark, his hands sat on your thighs as they gently knead and glide deeper under your dress. His lips curling into a smirk as he watches your breathes become heavier, your eyes fluttering and grip just a tad tighter.

“You should focus on cumming when and only when I have my cock in that needy pussy.” He whispers harshly in your ear, as his hands meet the lacy material of your panties, and traces your outline with a tantalizing finger. Your hips shifting against the spine shivering touch. His finger slipping past the lace edge and he groans when he’s met with your wet squishy entrance. “Ain’t no better way to celebrate than fucking you good, huh”

You were going to respond but you have to close your mouth to avoid moaning so deprivingly when he pushes through his thick middle finger and curling it up inside you, his thumb you your clit.

“Ha- you call this..fucking?” You push him on as you feel your hips twitch under his touch.

He pushes another finger, the stretch burning so good, a soft gasp leaving your lips. His other hand goes to the zipper of your dress, and in one harsh swift movement he unzips it completely, the material falling down and collecting at you hips.

BARK BARK BARK

The sound of scratches to the bedroom door and repeated barking interrupts the moment.

Again.

This time Simon in physically irritated, and you wouldn’t had been bothered to care until you feel Simon remove himself- leaving you feel empty and needy.

“Si, come back,” You huff and pout when he softly turn to leave you on the bed, but standing up himself.

“Let me put that damn mutt in his cage so that I can properly take care of you, love,” He says as he walks over to the door. Before he can walk outside, Titan rushes in.

Immediately going to the bed, where you’re sat in the middle. Despite your need you have to laugh and the dynamic between the two boys.

“Your such a big clingy baby,” You say watching as the Great Dane comes up to you in the bed, snuggling into you and resting his head on your thigh. Your hand goes to his head and pets him.

“Y/n i’m trying to get him out of the room.” His voice agitated. He would had been more patient with the situation if he didn’t have a painful hard on strained under his clothes.

“He doesn’t wanna.”

“To hell with what he wants, I want you.”

You laugh, “Ok, ok,” you hop out the bed, becoming Titan. “Come on boy.”

And as if an invisible leash connected him to you, he obediently follows you to the room. Tail stuck high as he passes Simon. To which Simon sneers, “Cockblock.”

Titan had allowed you to cage him, with a handful of treats, and a good amount of head pats. Letting you and Simon finally indulge in each other without the worry or distraction of Titan in the way.

Simon swears Titan plans and coordinates his interruptions and disruptions, little does he know how right he is.

[http-tokki]

Levi comes up beside you, hand sliding over your waist to rest on your hip and hold you close.

"I don't know how to approach this so I'm going to break it down." there’s a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Uhh, okay?" you're confused and look up at him to give him a look.

"You know I respect you right? and that I know you're not an object?" he waits for your answer.

A huffed laugh leaves you, "Yes? why, where are you going with this?'

"So thats been established. I don't see you as an object to possess or own?” another pause for your acknowledgment. " I just want to make that clear because I don't want to say anything that's gonna make you think that I own you or-

"Levi, what are you talking about?'

"There's a guy over there," he nods his chin in the direction of said man. "Who has been staring at you all night and I really don't like it and I wanted to talk to you about it but I didn't want you thinking I was being possessive. I just don't like the way he is looking at you, like he wants to own you or something but you belong to - wait never-mind, I just don't like it."

"Levi?"

"Yes, love?"

"Do you belong to me?"

He pauses for a moment to really think about how to answer you. "Yes, I think I belong to you."

"And do you think I belong to you?'

"Well, I like to, I hope you do."

"Then I do."

"But you know its not in a toxic way, I'm not being controlling.”

"Yes, baby I know, but for all intents and purposes, you belong to me and I belong to you.”

[nosyrobin]

Beast boy: Damian, we have something really, really important to tell you about.

(Metal ripping)

Beast boy: Damian?

Beast boy turns to Jon who is not looking at anyone. Wrapping his chest with iron he had found earlier.

Beast boy: Are you wearing iron?

Damian: *slams gun that has a green glow to it* Now, gentlemen, we’re not gonna sit here and pretend there's not an elephant in the room right as of now.

Beast boy: What the fuck is going on?

Damian: This is what the fuck is going on.

damian then slams a photo of you, his beautiful twin sister.

Beast boy looks at the photo of you and then to Jon. Silence rang out loud before a light bulb appeared of the shapeshifter’s head.

Beast boy finally realizing: Oh, shit! Oh, shit! (Laughing hysterically) Oh, shit! No!

Beast boy gets up from his seat and running out of the room.

Beast boy: That is not happening right now! No!

Beast boy runs to the other titans who certainly already kinda figured it out. Especially Raven.

Beast boy: Hey, y'all, he's fucking the demon’s sister! Yo!

Damian: Every time he says that.

Jon looked scared at his suppose friend right if this moment.

Damian: ...that's another bullet in your chest Kent...