#which is also a very respectable line of business to be in

[zepskies]

Awww that makes me so happy, friend! 🥰 There's definitely MORE coming soon. 💜💜💜

i’m usually a bit squeamish when it comes to anything that involves hunting, but the opening scene was written so nicely, it was the perfect amount of descriptive without being like, graphic? if that makes sense :) and although I feel sad for the lion (major cat person, lol) i’m glad dean was able to prove himself, even without the child’s bow :p💘

Ooh I totally get that, but thank you so much for that compliment. 😊 I tried not to make it too graphic (I love cats too! 😭). Dean will have the chance to master the bow soon enough though! 🏹

i’m also glad mila’s words got through to šóta and he showed dean some grace and kindness 😭🤍 it’s what my boy deserves <33

He needed that proverbial kick in the pants, didn't he?! And Dean finally gets someone on his side besides Mila, poor guy lol.

meanwhile otaktay youuu trifling miserable conniving bitter bitchhhh :| pardon my language lol i’m so glad he got the whoopin he deserved! the absolute audacity of that dude. 🤦🏽‍♀️ — got ahead of myself cause I like to review in order of events lol but he really grinded my gearss [insert arthur fist meme]

Oh Otaktay IS a trifling ass bitch. 😤 Even his own people are looking at him sideways for what he's done (or what he tried to do). Lolll totally understandable. Otaktay grinded my gears just writing him. 🤣

i loved all the little insights into how dean is with mila :’)🩵 they are so sweet to each other 😭 love them <3 it’s also nice that various people (minus one ofc) were seeing how well he treats his wife and how respectful he is 🙂‍↕️

Aww honestly I loved trying to figure out their dynamic as a married couple. I also feel like this was a time where a man like Dean would've been raised to respect the women in his life, especially his wife. 💜💜

checking in with her beforeeee getting down to business 🫠 [he’s a good man savannah 😔💖]

Damn right. 😏 Dean is gonna handle his business, but first, needs to check in with his girl.

aaand this is when I knew otaktay was in dangerrr lol

oh 100%. Guy's marked now. 😅

ohhhhhhh 😭😂 when I read this i thought to myself, dang maybe the fight wasn’t so bad in comparison to what’s coming to him 🤣 mama is nottttt gonna be happy

lmaooooo you know what, you're probably right! A little reveal there that Eyota is Otaktay's mother--and he's about to get another whoopin'. 😂

I adoreee this ♥️ and he’s worthyyyy🥺🤍 I loved the respect everyone finally showed him <3 the circumstances were not the greatest of course, but he has more than earned that respect by now :’) also when he was called honorable I thought of THC which i’m not sure if it was intentional or not, but either way, so cute!🧡

Aw thank you, my lovely. 🥹 Dean IS worthy, and finally getting the respect he deserves from everyone involved. 💗

Omg I hoped readers would notice that connection to THC! It was very intentional. 😘

i’m also glad they had that talk! it was so important, i’m glad it was reassuring for them🫶🏽

Oh yeah, Otaktay didn't put the thoughts in Mila's head about her and Dean's long-term struggles, and their future kids, but it sure did fan the flames. It was an important convo for her and Dean to have and get through together. 🫶🏽

meltinggg this was the sweetest thing🥺💗 home is where the heart is indeed<3 overall another amazing chapter lovely!💞

Aww thank you, my lovely. 🥹 That was probably my favorite line for this mini series, let alone this chapter. I'm so glad you enjoyed that part, and this chapter overall!! 💕

p.s. not entirely sure who’s in the teaser buuut i’m holding out hope for a certain someonee🤠 the anticipation buildss

Ooh you know what, I'm sure you've already figured it out. 😏 But until then...

Outlander - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Here we go! Diving deeper into Dean's (mis)adventures, plus a big Protective Dean moment...

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Mentions of attempted sexual assault (not graphic). Protective Dean, survival situations, derogatory name-calling, hunting (in the traditional sense), angst, blood and violence, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff and spice.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: What is Home

No matter how Dean tries, somehow he never makes his mark with the arrow. His boot even slips on the tree branch he was perched on, and he falls straight into the mud from this morning’s rain shower.

The other six men wait for him on the ground, and they laugh at him. 

Otaktay is the ringleader today, as he is whenever Šóta isn’t here.

“Get up, wašíču. Watch close,” Otaktay says, in his limited English. He and Takoda smoke their long pipes leisurely and blow smoke rings up in the air.

Wašíču.

Fat taker. Greedy White. By now, Dean knows what that means, and it’s worse than Outlander. It makes his jaw clench and his temper spike.

Otaktay gives Takoda his pipe to hold, then reaches behind his back for his bow and an arrow from his quiver. Dean has noticed that the other men’s bows look a bit bigger than his, but Otaktay called it a “training bow.”

He notches his arrow, pulls it back and lets it fly. It hits up into the tree and spears an apple, pinning it to the trunk.

It’s an impressive move, but Dean just picks himself up and cleans most of the mud from his hands. He knows Mila will have something to say about making a mess of the clothes she made for him.

“All right, fine. I am what I am,” Dean says. He meets Otaktay’s gaze head-on. “But I’ve still been hunting all my life.”

Dean used to keep his knife on his belt, but now he wears the pants and tunics the other men wear, and they either strap their weapons in a leather holster around their thigh or to their ankles. Dean unsheathes the knife he keeps strapped to his thigh. 

And he throws it hard. It cuts straight through a branch and brings an entire bunch of apples to the ground by Takoda’s feet; he even has to jump to avoid them landing on his head. The others murmur to each other, begrudgingly impressed. 

Except for Otaktay. His face remains stoic. 

A whistle breaks the tension in the forest clearing. It’s Šóta, who joins them, coming through on his horse. 

“How is the hunt going?” he asks in English, raising a brow over at the wild boar that lies in the grass. Otaktay and the others killed it this morning, so he’s the one who speaks first. 

“The Outsider will bring a whole bunch of apples to feed his wife. How satisfying,” Otaktay says, with a dry edge of mocking. Dean’s jaw clenches, but he tries not to rise to the bait. 

“Maybe he satisfies her in other ways, brother,” Šóta says. “Maybe that’s why he has a wife, and you don’t.” 

His tone is teasing, but is there a reproaching edge there too? Dean’s lips tug upwards, slightly; he sees that Otaktay simmers at the dig, but he doesn’t dare say anything against Šóta.

“Hey!” Takoda calls out. He points at the boar they mean to take back to the village. A mountain lion slips closer down from a tree. He sinks his teeth into the boar’s thigh and begins to drag it away, farther into the forest.

The sight of the wild cat spooks the men’s horses grazing nearby. Even Baby scatters along with them, braying in distress. But the men hustle into action. Even with mud still clinging to his clothes and his skin, Dean grabs up his bow and arrow and runs to grab his fallen knife. He whistles to Baby and calms her down enough to climb up onto her back. 

The others have already done the same with their horses and are chasing the mountain lion into the woods. It zips up a tree, and Šóta, Otaktay, and the others aim their arrows high. They wait and listen. 

Otaktay releases his arrow first. The cat’s angry shriek fills the clearing from above.

“You got him,” Šóta says.

“Winged him. He’s not dead,” Otaktay says. His brows furrow as he listens closer. 

The cat jumps from the tree and takes Dean to the ground. Baby brays and stamps around, and Dean has to both avoid her hooves and try to keep the mountain lion from sinking his claws or his teeth into his neck. 

Šóta’s eyes widen, but he springs into action by whistling to the men and raising his bow. Before he can shoot, he has to stop short at what he sees. 

A moment later, Dean rolls over and heaves the lion’s dead body off of him. His knife comes out of the animal’s chest, slick and crimson with blood. It runs down his muddy shirt as he pants and heaves for breath.

Šóta gets down from his horse, running his disbelieving eyes over the scene.

Dean looks up and finds a hand offered to him. His gaze travels up further and meets Šóta’s. His eyes are an even darker brown than Mila’s. Dean takes his hand and accepts the help to his feet.

The other men hesitate, stunned into silence, but they get down from their horses and help Dean and Šóta heft the dead animal onto the latter’s horse. They will take it, along with the boar they retrieve from up in the tree, back to camp.

Mila returns to camp not long before the men. She meant to start prepping for supper, but she becomes sidetracked while playing Chase with the children. As one of the few young women still without children of her own, she tries her best to give the mothers a break in the afternoon, so they can finish washing, mending, cooking, or even just having a rest for themselves. 

Watching their joy, and even helping them up when they fall and cry, makes her wonder when she will finally be blessed with a child. She hopes they will have Dean’s eyes, so pretty and green.

When the men return, she raises her head breathlessly and smiles. It soon dims, however, as she catches sight of Dean. She gets to her feet and ushers the children back to their mothers before she goes to meet him. 

He gives her a sheepish look when he gets off his horse. Her mouth drops open at seeing him covered in mud and sweat and blood. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, trying to placate her with raised hands. She ignores that and touches his chest, her palms splaying down his stomach as she tries to find a wound. She finds more tears and scratches through his soiled clothes, but no real wounds. Still, she’s not satisfied yet.

“What happened?” she asks. 

“Just a little trial by fire, sweetheart,” Dean says. He grasps her arms to placate her. “Everything’s okay.”

Otaktay pointedly looks away from the scene and moves on along with the other men. Šóta notices, but he goes to his cousin.

“We encountered a thief,” he says, gesturing to the body of the mountain lion they brought back for tonight’s meal. “Dean Winchester not only caught the thief, but made an example of him.”

Mila raises her brows and looks to Dean, as if to say, Is this true? He offers a smile and a shrug. She smiles back.

Šóta rides on, but he glances back and sees how Mila dotes on her husband, touching a gentle hand to his cheek.

In return, Dean holds her by the waist and talks to her with a warmth in his eyes that he only has for her. Or at least, that’s what Šóta finally sees.  

Mila and Dean head back to their tipi, where she grabs a fresh change of clothing for him. 

“I could’ve gotten it,” he says. 

“You’ll track mud inside,” she points out wryly. She holds the bundle of clothes for him on their way to the river. “All you do is give me mending to do. You can’t keep clean, can’t keep from hurting yourself, can you?”

Dean knows her well enough now to realize her griping isn’t all that serious. She was just worried.

“I guess not,” he says, trying to hide his amusement.

She gives him a stern look, but with that cheeky look of his, she can’t stay upset for long. Her face softens into an exasperated smile, and she gestures towards the river. “Go. Wash yourself up. I will have supper ready soon.”

Dean grabs her hand and makes her drop the change of clothes in the grass. 

“Only if you come with me,” he says. He grabs her and aims to toss her over his shoulder, but she squeals in protest. 

“Dean Winchester! I’ll have nothing to wear if you drop me in the water!” 

Dean pauses, his lips tugging at a smirk. “You make a decent point, but I’m just wondering, do I really care if you’ve gotta walk back naked?” 

“Dean!” she giggles, hitting his shoulder. 

He chuckles and sets her down, but he still doesn’t let her leave. By now, she doesn’t want to. He starts helping her undress, followed by him peeling off his disgusting clothes. He hooks an arm around her waist and hauls her with him into the water. She laughs and tries to escape him by splashing water in his face, but he just spits it out. He chuckles and wipes the excess droplets.

He slips his arms around her waist, holds her tight and floats with her for a bit. He takes in a deep breath and finds peace here with her here in the sun-warmed water. She’s become his peace.

Mila takes his face in her hands and kisses him slowly. When she pulls away and their eyes meet again, she smiles.

“I am proud of you,” she says. “Not just for today, but for every day that you stand strong.”

Dean’s lips quirk with a reluctant smile. He doesn’t take praise very well, but her words make the weight on his shoulders feel a little bit lighter. Holding her flush against his chest, every soft, familiar curve is pressed against him. He leans in and captures her lips again.

That evening, the tribe gathers for a feast prepared by the Chief’s wives, Mila, and her mother Weaya to celebrate the warriors’ highly successful hunt.

Šóta watches his cousin with her Outlander husband. Dean follows her lead in divvying out portions of the meal, but still at times with a supportive hand on the small of her back. He even takes the large, hot bowl out of her hand to help serve her and her family—including Chatan, who accepts the offered bowl without a word.

Dean Winchester doesn’t sit until Mila does. They talk together with her mother and the others, though Dean mostly keeps to himself while the women chat. He occasionally responds to a direct question or comment, but overall, he seems content to listen. He’s starting to follow more bits of conversation in their language.

At the end of the meal, he stands with Mila and helps her collect bowls that will be washed. The man is confident, but not prideful. He’s hardworking, self-reliant, and has the makings of a warrior. 

However, Šóta is not the only one who watches his cousin and the Outlander.  

Šóta pulls Dean aside after breakfast the next morning. He takes Dean back to the forest, beyond where the horses are kept in their pen, and puts his own hunting bow in Dean’s hands.  

“Feel the weight of it,” Šóta says. “Does it seem like yours?”

Dean considers it, testing out the strength of the bowstring. “No. It feels heavier.”

“Because it is. We gave you a training bow for children,” Šóta says. He takes the bow from Dean and brings him the one he had tied to a satchel on his horse. “I will give you this one. It belonged to my half-brother, Takoda, before he made his own. I made it for him, and now I give it to you.”

Dean takes the bow. Šóta’s right, it’s taller and heavier than the first one they gave him. Of course they tried to trick him by giving him a kid’s bow. He tries not to be too annoyed about it, because it looks like Šóta’s warming up to him, at least enough to actually train him.

“Thanks,” Dean nods. He runs a hand over the bow and admires the craftsmanship of the wood, smooth and chestnut colored. He already has a quiver full of arrows he’s made himself, but first, Šóta corrects his stance and his posture.

“Your body knows the movements of hold, aim, and shoot, but you think too much,” he says. “How you shoot an arrow is not so different from a gun.”

Dean raises a brow. He begs to fucking differ.

Reading the skeptical look on his face, Šóta smiles.

“My father once told me, ‘A weapon is a weapon is a weapon,’” Šóta continues. “The way you use it might be different, but your mind is the same. Think like the river. Calm and free, yes?”

He throws Dean a thumbs up—something Dean taught him a week ago. Šóta just hasn’t gotten it quite right yet. 

“A river ain’t always calm,” Dean points out. He should know. He almost died on the river in his journey here.

Šóta thinks for a second, tilting his head. “That is fair. Here, let me think of something better—”

“It’s okay, I think I get it. I just gotta relax a bit, is that it?”

“Yes, but stay focused.”

“I can focus. I just need you to back up a little.”

Šóta raises his hands in surrender. He takes a couple of steps back and gestures at a tree to use for target practice. Dean centers himself.

“Remember to breathe,” Šóta says.

Dean shoots him a glance. Again, Šóta holds up his hands, then crosses his arms, pressing his lips together. Dean shifts his gaze back to the target, and he lets out a deep breath. Then he lets the arrow fly. 

It hits just shy of the tree’s center. 

Šóta smiles, giving him another “thumbs up.” 

“Good. Now, again,” he says.

The morning slowly dips behind the clouds into a golden afternoon. Šóta helps Dean catch and roast a couple of fish by the river, which cuts through the forest. Its waters are choppy and shimmering with the light.

This forest used to run almost all the way to the Black Hills, before the U.S. government began its work on the railroad. The tribe has had to move their village more than once out of self-preservation, like they did when Dean came to them. 

He felt bad for it at the time, but he’s also grateful they made that precaution. The last thing he needs is to run into his old unit, let alone for the army to find out he’s still alive. And the last thing he wants is to endanger these people, especially his wife and her family.

He finishes off his second fish and glances over at Šóta.

“Look, I appreciate your help, but…I’ve gotta wonder why,” Dean says. “You don’t like that I’m here either.”

Šóta pauses in his chewing. He swallows before he answers, looking over at Dean in the eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if I like you,” he says. “You are the man who brought Kimmímila home alive. So, I help you.”

Dean nods. He can respect that. He looks down at the half-eaten meal, then at his hands, calloused and worn. They hold the weight of his past, his choices, and also the man he’s trying to be.

“I won’t hurt her,” he says.

The simple truth is that he’d give his life for hers. No hesitation.

“I know that, Dean Winchester. That is the other reason you are still alive,” Šóta says, with a slight smile. “You are brave. I will give you that.”

Dean smiles. “I guess there’s no winning over the others, is there?” 

At that, Šóta pauses. “You are doing better than you think. The others see you aren’t afraid. They see you work hard, and you try to respect our ways. You just don’t know them. They don’t know you.”

“I get it,” Dean says, nodding. “Like, uh, Otaktay. Right?”

“Ah,” Šóta rubs his clean-shaven chin. “You will have a harder time with him.”

Dean quirks a rueful smile. “What’s his deal?”

“His deal?” Šóta questions.

“His problem,” Dean elaborates, “with me.” 

Šóta sighs sharply. “Our men are warriors bred. Otaktay. His name means, ‘kills many.’”

Dean raises his brows. He slowly inclines his head.

“Riiiight. Of course.” 

“Names have power, Dean Winchester. Otaktay takes his name like a challenge he will win, but he does it to protect our tribe above all else,” Šóta says.

If that weren’t enough, the man levels Dean with a more serious look.

“But there is something else you should know.”

Dean doesn’t think he’s going to like whatever’s coming next. He nods, wordlessly urging Šóta to continue.

“Otaktay has always watched my cousin, admired her spirit and her beauty,” he says. “Mila has known this, and maybe she would have accepted him, had she known…but he planned to ask Chatan, my uncle, for Mila’s hand.”

Dean’s chest tightens, as does his frown. “What happened?”

“She disappeared,” Šóta replies. “When Mato was taken, she couldn’t accept it. She left the village to find him against my uncle’s command. Then she found you.” 

Dean isn’t exactly surprised by that. His wife is many things, defiant chief among them. Also, it makes a lot of things make even more sense. It explains her father’s tough outer shell, and clearly, it means he’ll have to keep a sharper eye on Otaktay.

She had been successfully avoiding him, until now.

Mila had just left the horses after helping Takoda feed and brush them, and she was planning to wash up before helping her mother and some of the other women cook for the entire tribe again this evening. Today is the last moon of the summer months, and so they’ve been preparing the wild game that the men had hunted for the past two days. Tonight, they will have an even greater feast.

She feels a shadow at her feet as she ventures through the village. They’re getting bigger as a tribe, harder to move when they need to, and it’s more mouths to feed, but it’s also a good thing. Despite all the challenges the past few decades have brought, their people are enduring. 

However, Mila pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind when she feels a prickling down the back of her neck. It’s followed shortly by the strong hand that closes on her wrist, and the man that calls her name. 

She gasps and whips around. He’s there, gently shushing her. She glares at him and tries to pull her hand out of his grip. 

“Ota,” she snaps. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to talk to you,” Otaktay says. His brown eyes are earnest, but he doesn’t let go of her hand. “You have been avoiding me.”

“I can’t be any more honest than I have been,” Mila says, and finally she manages to free herself from his grasp with a sharper tug. “Enough of this.”

She begins to walk away from him. The distance between the horses’ corral and the village is short, just over the gentle slope of a grassy hill and down below…but her cousin isn’t here. Her husband isn’t here. Otaktay believes this is his only chance—his chance to make her see reason. He stops her again, this time with his words.

“Do you think it will be that easy?” he says. “The Outlander will bring death upon us all.”

Mila stops short. She turns on her heel to meet him with a glare. 

“His people think he’s dead,” she says.

Otaktay approaches her with slow, measured steps. “And what if they find him here? Every day their iron caravans invade our lands. Every day their patrols come to take from us, to destroy us. How many of his own do you think he will kill for you?”

He raises a pointed finger. “And your children. Your children with that man will be cursed. Forever in the shadow of two worlds, forced into one, and hated by the other.”

His words pin Mila to the ground by her toes. Her body stills, because she’s shaken deep within. She doesn’t want to believe him, but she also won’t admit that these are the thoughts she’s tried to push from her mind. What she wants most of all is a family of her own. She wants it with her husband. 

But is it fair?

To them.

To him.

To her people.

She doesn’t know, and for that, her lips tremble. Her eyes burn with tears and she raises a trembling hand to her mouth. 

Otaktay draws closer and attempts to hold her hands, but her brows crunch in anger. You!

She pushes him in the dead center of his chest, so hard that it unbalances him. He’s surprised by her ire, and that satisfies her. She shoves him again, more forcefully this time, but he manages to hold his ground. 

“Kimmímila—”

She doesn’t give him the chance to try and placate her. With a cry of effort and frustration, she slaps at his face with all of her strength. It whips the man’s face to the side and even makes him stumble. He raises a hand to his cheek in disbelief. Already his tan skin is reddening, both from the mark of her anger, and from his own.

When she goes to shove him again, he grabs her by the arms to try and subdue her. Her tears are beginning to blind her, but she doesn’t care. The way he holds her tightly makes a flash of dread coil in her stomach.

In her distant mind, she knows Otaktay wouldn’t willingly hurt her. But his grip reminds her of Roman, the officer at Fort Laramie, who took advantage of the way she was tied to a post in their camp. She remembers his rough hands, the wood pressing into her spine. She remembers his hot breath and his chapped lips trying to claim her, his knee pressing between her legs.

Her own breaths come out in shallow gasps as that well of dread grows in her chest, rising into her throat to choke her. Mila punches wildly at Otaktay’s chest and rakes him with her nails. He finally grits his teeth and grabs her tightly by the hair. 

“Enough!” he shouts in her face. 

She matches him, her voice echoing in the clearing. “Let me go!” 

“Not until you calm down!”

He takes her face in his hands. Looking down into her tear-filled eyes, wild and devastated, he begins to feel remorse; but there too is desire and jealousy, deep and twisted together in the oily dark of his soul. Otaktay believes he’s only been selfish once in his life. Kimmímila is that one.

“Let go!” she shakily demands. She struggles against his hold and tries to run away from him, even though she used to run with him, ride with him through the forest on horseback and across the grassy plains instead of doing their chores. He tries to remind her of it now when he bows his head to kiss her. 

He finds himself ripped away—shoved hard enough to land stumbling into the sun-hot grass. 

“Dean!” Mila gasps. She reaches for her husband, even though the clenched set of his jaw and the tightness in his broad shoulders make her wary. She’s not afraid of him though. She just has a terrible feeling that she knows what’s coming next. 

Dean turns his attention to her first, a firm, but gentle grasp of her shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks gruffly. 

She nods, brushing away tears from her cheek. She holds onto his hand. “Yes.”

“Okay, stay back,” he says, releasing her.

She tries to stop him from advancing on Otaktay, but Šóta holds her shoulders with a grim look on his face. He guides her back and at his side. He and Dean have come on horseback. They jumped down to help her. She doesn’t know that they heard her and Otaktay shouting from several yards away, their voices carried on the wind.

Dean hadn’t been able to understand the words, but Šóta’s sense of urgency and the shrill, angry panic in Mila’s voice spurred him on, urging Baby to a full gallop down the hill. Seeing her tears was one thing, but while he saw Otaktay, in his mind, Dean also saw the night that Roman tried to force himself on her.

The rage that compels Dean now is different from the anger he had then. Back at the camp, he was just doing what he felt was right. Today, this is a protective call for blood. 

Otaktay had barely gotten back to his feet, but the upward swing of Dean’s fist cracks across his chin and sends him back down to the ground. He seethes, with blood in his teeth, but he angrily swipes Dean’s legs from underneath him. It becomes a grapple for leverage as the men tussle in the grass, trading swift punches. Otaktay kicks Dean hard in the stomach to gain some distance, rocking back onto his feet. Dean stumbles slightly, but he does the same.

“Stop!” Mila shouts in protest. Šóta holds her back. Despite her wildness before, she doesn’t want either of them dead. She fears more for her husband, but not because she doesn’t believe in him. She’s afraid of what will happen if Otaktay is killed. 

He plays dirty, spitting in Dean’s face. Dean matches by throwing an elbow into the other man’s throat, grabs his arm, then pivots and heaves him over his shoulder onto the ground. For a moment, Otaktay lies there winded on his back. Dean pins him there with his heavier weight bearing down on him. 

Otaktay sneaks a hand from the sheath strapped to his thigh and twists a knife into his hand. Šóta and Mila both see it, him with a tight frown and her with widening eyes.

She calls out in alarm, but Dean reacts fast. He strikes at Otaktay’s wrist and grabs his arm. A swift elbow and Otaktay’s knee in Dean’s gut forces him to the side, heaving a grunt. Otaktay gains the better position as he presses a knee right over Dean’s chest. He grunts at the impact; it threatens to break a rib. The knife becomes poised over Dean’s face in the struggle, nearing his neck. 

“Otaktay!” Mila calls out sharply, a warning and a plea all at once. 

He hears her. For just a second, he allows himself to glance up at her and see what lies in her eyes. He knows her fear is not for him. 

Still, anger overcomes his heart. He calls out a battle cry and puts his entire strength into bringing the knife down. Dean allows it with gritted teeth, but he positions his hands in just the right way to guide the man’s arm just to the right of his neck, slicing shallowly into his skin. The knife sinks into the earth.

Dean throws a punch that lands across the Lakota’s cheek, then another, and it allows him to kick the man in his ribs, sending him backwards with a heavy grunt. Dean grabs the knife out of the ground, and when he rolls onto his feet, he slashes at the other man’s chest. It isn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it’s enough to make him bleed red rivulets. 

Otaktay works harder than ever, trading blows and kicks that Dean can’t always dodge. But eventually, Dean hooks a boot behind the other man’s ankle and unbalances him enough to drive him to the ground. He shifts the position of the knife and brings it flush to Otaktay’s throat. 

His eyes widen; he never expected to be bested by the Outlander. The sharp edge of the blade bites into his skin, cutting a thin line of blood dripping down to his collarbone.

They’re both heaving for breath, sweaty, bloody, and bruised. It’s then that Dean realizes that they’ve attracted a small crowd. At the center of it is Chief Tahatan. He’s watching closely, his face unreadable, along with one of his wives. A few men stand beside him, namely Mila’s father, Chatan, Takoda, and some of the women too. Šóta whispers to them, explaining why the men are fighting.

Even Dean knows that by the customs of their tribe, he’s well within his rights to end this the way his hand in itching to—by sinking the blade into Otaktay’s jugular. Maybe it will finally earn him respect. Maybe it won’t. 

He glances up and finds Mila’s eyes. She stands frozen with her heart in her throat. All she sees is him. And she’s the only one Dean means to answer to. 

He raises the knife—and he brings it down into the earth beside Otaktay’s head.

The warrior inhales sharply, his brows furrowing in shock and confusion. He stares up at Dean, who looks down at him with the remnants of jaw-clenching anger. In that moment, they come to an understanding. 

Dean pulls back and straightens up, with just a small shake in his bowed legs. His gait steadies as he makes his way back to his wife. 

Šóta lets go of Mila so she can go to meet Dean. She runs her hands over his chest and arms, trying to find injuries she may not have seen before. Her fingers trace around places that are already becoming bruises, but Dean just holds her, taking pains to soften himself. His arms around her are secure, but not too strong. She’s just grateful that he isn’t hurt too badly.

“You okay?” he makes sure. 

Mila nods, despite the tears shining in her eyes. “Yes.”

Her parents watch them closely, even though the couple doesn’t realize it.

Behind them, Takoda shakes his head at his friend, but he dutifully helps Otaktay to his feet. Šóta crosses his arms and levels him with a cold look. 

“Take him to Eyota,” he says. 

“Yes,” Tahatan agrees, his voice deep and grave. “Tell her what her son has done here.”

The rest of Otaktay’s anger drains when he looks up at his chief. He says nothing, and can’t hold the older man’s gaze for long. He reluctantly leans on his friend to help him up and over the grassy hill, down to the village. The others gathered there wait to see what Tahatan will do next. He approaches Mila and Dean. 

“A good man protects his family above his own life. A warrior protects his tribe, even at the cost of blood,” Tahatan says. He looks directly at Dean. “But an honorable man knows when to show mercy.”

Dean’s heart begins to beat fast again. He hadn’t known that his choice was the right one, until now. He’s able to keep his head high without being arrogant. He just isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say. 

“Dean Winchester, you will be called Ikíphi,” Tahatan declares.

Dean blinks in surprise, and also confusion when he notices the way Mila begins to weep silent tears. He tightens his arm around her waist in a wordless question, but she just smiles at him.

“Uh, what does that mean?” he whispers the question to her.

She opens her mouth to respond, but her father is the one who answers. Chatan rests a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

“Worthy,” he says. 

He meets Dean’s gaze and holds it, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. Dean gives the gesture back to him in kind, and to Tahatan as well. Then Chatan takes his leave, walking back to camp with Weaya, Šóta, and the Chief. The others whisper Ikíphi, offering their nods of respect to Dean before they follow suit, until it’s only Mila and Dean left in the clearing.

She pulls out of his hold just to take his hand. She looks ahead rather than at him.

“Come,” she says. 

Something’s wrong. Dean knows it in his gut.

He and Mila bathe together in the river again, but even though she helps him by washing his back, she’s quiet and distracted. He asks her if she was hurt. She tells him she wasn’t. That’s the only time she looks him in the eyes. 

Later, they return home thoroughly exhausted. Dean starts up a small fire for the coals to help dry them off the rest of the way. 

“There is a feast tonight,” Mila reminds him while she sits on the bedding, brushing through her long, damp hair. Dean sits near the fireplace and uses his knife to shave. He glances her way and lets out a deep breath. 

“I don’t know if I’m up for a party,” he admits. 

She surprises him by agreeing. “I’m tired too. I think Tahatan will understand if we stay in.”

Dean quirks a brow. She loves it when the tribe comes together for mealtimes. For days, she’s been telling him about moon feasts—the music, the games, the antics her cousins get up to, performing stories for the children and whoever else indulges them. 

So Dean gets up and goes over to her. He swipes her hair aside and lays a kiss on her shoulder. She keeps brushing her hair, so he keeps up his path of kisses along her neck, nibbling her ear. She laughs a little and flinches at the ticklish feeling, making him smile. He wraps his arms around her from behind, and she sighs, succumbing to the feeling of him warm at her back. She settles against his chest. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

Her smile fades, though he can’t see it. “I should ask you that.”

“I’m fine, baby,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Well, maybe you should not be fine,” she says in a smaller voice. 

Dean pauses, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

Mila gently pushes his arms away from her. She stands up and creates distance between them. She crosses her arms to hold herself, not even daring to look back at him. 

“I mean that…maybe you should go home, back to your people,” she says. She manages to keep her voice steady, even though she’s breaking her own heart.  

Dean gets up to his feet, alarm and unease coiling in his stomach. He grasps her elbow and comes around to see her face, and when he does, he sees the truth. Tears shine in her eyes, slipping down with every blink. His furrowed brows ease somewhat, but he still needs answers. He holds her by her arms and stares into her soulful brown eyes.

“Mila, what’s going on? Your family, the Chief, even your dad—they’re all starting to accept me now. Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks. “What happened today, it’s a one-off, okay? For damn sure, Otaktay’s not touching you again—”

“It’s not that,” Mila says with a sniffle. She holds herself tighter, trying not to let Dean’s concern, his touch, or the intensity of his green eyes affect her so much. 

“Today we have peace, but how long will that last?” she says. “And…and our children. Will they be accepted too? Or will they never find their place, caught between two worlds, but never belonging to either one.”

Mila succumbs to quiet, shuddering sobs. Her trembling hands try to cover her face from him.

Dean’s face gentles. He feels like he’s been kicked in the chest (again). He gathers her to his chest and holds her closely. In the entire month he’s been living here, he hasn’t thought too much about kids. Not in any real way…

Well, okay. Maybe he has, whenever he sees Mila caring for the children of the village for their mothers. Or when they run past him, laughing, playing imaginary games. He would smile, remembering how he and Sam used to drive their mom crazy tearing around the farm when they were little. 

In fact, the thought warms him now. Dean cradles the back of Mila’s head and runs his fingers through her hair. He imagines her holding a little boy who has her dark hair and eyes, and maybe Dean’s chin. He thinks she’d be a good mom.

I wish Mom could meet her, he thinks.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he says. He pulls away so he can see Mila’s eyes again, honey-brown and shiny with tears. “I can’t go home. I’m already here.”

Mila can’t help but soften, her lower lip trembling. He caresses her cheek; a gentle thumb brushes away stray tears. 

“So it might get harder,” he says. “Maybe we are doomed to fail. Or just maybe, our kids are the ones who are gonna make the peace stick.” 

Mila’s fingers curl into his shirt. She holds onto him, and he can see that her reservations are finally breaking down. He squeezes her waist and earns her gaze on him. 

“All I know is, you’re my wife ‘til the day I die,” he says, more firmly. “I’m not going anywhere without you. You understand me?” 

Another watery path finds its way down Mila’s cheek, but she wipes it away. Her sweeter smile peaks through, along with the amused gleam in her eyes. 

“I understand,” she replies. Her voice is mostly steady; the small quake is no longer uncertainty, just heartfelt emotion. “You take your vows seriously.”

“That’s right,” Dean nods, his lips hinting at a smile. “And you promised me something too last night, remember?”

Her brows furrow as she considers the question. But then, it dawns on her. 

You will never be alone.

Her small smile returns, and she nods.

“Yes. I’m sorry…I should not let fear blind me to the truth.” She takes his hand from where it lies on her waist, and she guides it to rest over her heart. “You live here now, in my spirit.”

Dean has never heard the words I love you said quite like that before. It warms places inside him that he didn’t know were all that cold and dark. For her, he could try to put into words what that means to him, but words aren’t his strong suit. He’s never been that good at letter writing or giving speeches. That, he always left to Sam, or Benny. 

Above all, Dean is a man of action. 

He takes her face gently in his calloused hands, and he kisses her. He gives her everything in that all-consuming kiss, and he hopes she understands what he’s trying to say. 

I’m home.

AN: This might feel like the end, but we have two more parts left! As you can see, Dean's doing his best lol. Do you think he made the right choice with Otaktay? There might be more drama ahead, plus, a special guest finally joins the cast...

Next Time:

Her smile drops with a sharp inhale of breath. 

She hears hoof falls on the earth. A horse treads nearby. 

Slowly, she lowers the wet clothing back into the basin. She sees two reflections growing on the water: a horse and a man. The man gets down from his horse first. 

“Hey there, miss—”

Mila swiftly turns and unsheathes the knife she keeps strapped to her ankle. 

Pronunciation Guide:

Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew") Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

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[icewindandboringhorror]

Very strange outfit that is sort of like.. a mix of my current style (pattern mixing, pom poms, fun sandals) combined with how I dressed when I was like 10 years old. The stereotypical skelanimals hoodie vest and the skull t-shirt lol.. 

[demi-god77]

BYLER GATES: A GUIDE

(Explaining all the different theories, for anyone who is also lost with how many there are)

THE BIG 4

Flickergate: This theory involves a lot of time shenanigans and is connected to the Will having powers in s5 one (possibly manipulation of time or electricity). Theory claims Will and Mike will kiss in the UD, specifically outside Mike's garage, paralleling 1x01. Will is going to tell the truth at the same time his s1 self is ("it was a seven"), causing the garage light to flicker on Nov. 6th 1983.

Birthdaygate: This theory suggests that the Duffers didn't actually forget Will's birthday is March 22nd (the day of the rink-o-mania incident). It claims that Vecna is actually manipulating the characters' memories (possibly even Will's), making them forget his birthday in the process, maybe in an attempt to make him feel excluded/lonely and making him vulnerable. (Similar to the beginning of Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets, which happened to be on the inspo board for S4)

But also the Creel murders themselves happened on March 22nd.

Churchgate: More UD kiss related theories! This one claims Will is going to get Vecna'd or possessed in the Upside Down church (and that he's going to hurt/choke Mike in the process). With a crazy amount of religious symbolism, Mike would be the one breaking him out of his trance, through a kiss or a confession.

(More thorough explanation here.)

Lettergate: This gate's truthers believe that Mike did actually write to Will in the time period between s3 and s4, but never sent the letters. Said letters (signed "Love, Mike") are going to make an appearance in s5, revealing his true feelings. (Great post that has to do with this gate here)

Also related to:

OTHER GATES

Pocketgate: Very connected to Lettergate™️, this theory has to do with Mike's infamous triangle shaped pocket in S4. It suggests that the letter signed Love, Mike is hidden in said pocket throughout s4, since it very closely resembles an envelope. Triangles have also been used in ST as a queer symbol (with Robin) and Mike's pocket consistently points to Will like an arrow.

Phonegate: Kinda similar to the previous two, this gate claims Mike did actually call the Byers in Lenora. For some reason, the calls didn't go through, either because of Joyce's telemarketer job OR because of Vecna manipulating things again (cough, birthdaygate, cough).

This is backed up by one of Dustin's lines, saying that the Byers' phone line is always busy and Mike won't stop complaining about it. We know he must have been calling WILL, since the whole reason he was communicating with El using letters is that they couldn't talk on the phone.

Loverslakegate: Related to Lovers' lake (obviously). The lake is shaped like a heart, tying into its name, but it was split in two after the gates opened, now resembling a broken one (and Mike is ofc referred to as "the heart" so it could be a reference to him).

According to this theory, Mike and Will are going to kiss/become lovers near said lake/Reefer Rick's house.

Heartgate: To put it simply: Heart reflections EVERYWHERE. This one is better explained through pictures:

Also: Different heartgate but really interesting

Colorgate: I don't think I have to explain this one tbh but anyway

Blue meets yellow in the west.

Mike and Will have been HEAVILY associated with blue and yellow respectively since the beginning of the show (even wearing eachother's colours in both of their arguments). There's an insane amount of evidence that backs this one up.

It's speculated that the Russian code in s3 was foreshadowing for s4 ("The silver cat feeds when Blue meets Yellow in the west") Silver cat: Vecna who started killing when Mike (Blue) met Will (Yellow) in the west (California, literally west of Indiana)

Curtaingate: "They don't spent their lives trying to get a look at what's behind the curtain [...] They like the curtain. It provides them comfort, stability, definition" -Murray 2x05

Mike and El are pretty consistently framed in front of CLOSED (and more often than not, yellow) curtains, or ones that have closed blinds. According to this theory, closed curtains represent not being honest with one's true feeling. So, the truth about Mike's feelings is beyond the curtain and in s5 he will open it (and come out)

Motelgate: This one has to do with the dreaded two day time skip at the end of S4. Theory claims the Cali crew stayed at a motel during that time skip and the scenes were cut for time, but we'll flash back to them in s5. It's based on a photo a production assistant posted from the New Mexico filming, as well as some bts pics of the Cali Crew playing board games in a motel.

Shoegate: In S4, we see a pair of Will's shoes in his bedroom. In s5, Mike seems to be wearing that exact pair. This, in addition to the fact that they wear the same shoe size (a 10 according to their rollerskates from 4x02), lead people to theorize they will share clothes/shoes in s5. More importantly though, this theory suggests Mike is figuratively being put into Will's shoes (maybe pining?). Also, both of them wear the same shoes they wore in s2. Interestingly enough though, even though the design is the same, the colors are reversed (so their roles will be reversed too).

Possessiongate: This one runs DEEP so I'm going to link a bunch of posts

To put it VERY simply: this theory claims Vecna somehow attached himself to Mike (maybe when the vine grabbed him by the leg in the S2 tunnels- right before he started acting weird in s3 and s4) and he has been influenced/possessed for some time now.

He's not the dungeon master anymore, he's not in control. Both in s3 and s4 someone ELSE is the DM when they play D&D (Will and Eddie respectively)

More here and here

Victimgate: Very closely related to the previous one, this one suggests that MIKE was originally supposed to be Vecna's 4th victim instead of Patrick. Since Max escaped the first time, SHE ended up being the last victim but the original plan was for it to be Patrick. However, Patrick's curse doesn't fit the theme of all of the previous ones. We only see one of his visions, he gets cursed for ONE DAY, as opposed to the other 3 that are cursed for almost a week and we also know very little about him, even though we gradually knew more about the previous victims. Chrissy (no relation to main characters) -> Fred (friends w/ Nancy) -> Max (main character who we've known since s2)

More thorough explanation here

Twelvegate: This one is not really Byler related but i wanted to include it anyway

Theory claims Will was one of the lab kids (specifically 012) and him and El are actual twins. There are mentions of Will and El looking similar since s1, and a lot of twin imagery.

This theory obviously ties in with the Will having powers one and some people believe he wasn't 012, but him and El have a deeper connection/may be actually related. It could theoretically explain Henry's connection to Will, as well as things like El seemingly recognizing him in s1.(Alternatively called rainbowshipgate, because of the rainbow ship drawing Joyce mentions in s2 and the rainbow room)

Eightfifteengate: Again, not explicitly Byler but it's quite crazy.

TL;DR: The time 8:15 seems to have great significance in the show and it's mentioned all the time, if not by the characters themselves, (Eg. "It's 8:15, you're late"- El s2) then by small details in the background. There's even a whole track named after it.

Will left the Wheelers' house at 8:15 and it's the EXACT timestamp of his disappearance in 1x01. It's also the time in which most of the UD related weirdness happens and so it's very likely the UD is stuck on 8:15. (Also you know, 15-8=7)

Radiationgate: Related to the previous one! Clocks in Chernobyl are stuck on 8:15 and Hiroshima has been described figuratively as being frozen in time. Henry has burns identical to Chernobyl victims and almost all of his + his victims' symptoms can be explained through radiation exposure. As this post explains, for radiation levels between 8.3-11 Gy (SI unit for absorbed radiation), symptoms start with headaches and disorientation, move on to unconsciousness and bleeding (the exact symptoms of his victims) and finally, death happens at around 7 days (which is about how long Vecna's curse lasts AND how long Will was in the UD for)

Whiterabbitgate: The song "White Rabbit" is the first song in the show and it plays when we first get a sense of El's powers. Theory suggests it will also be the last song in the show (coming full circle) with either Will using his powers, or Willel using their powers together.

In general though, ST has a lot of similarities/parallels to Alice in Wonderland. The white rabbit constantly being late (Mike is late to something at the start of every season), great significance to clocks/ticking/time, a lot of hallucinations/visions, the overall similarities between the Upside Down and Wonderland. Henry's sister was literally named Alice Creel and there is SO much rabbit imagery throughout the show. There are also direct references to AIW with set pieces and paintings.

Soundtrackgate: This one has to do with the Stranger Things OST and the overall insane musical symbolism throughout the show. A lot of different theories talk about the show's soundtrack, but this one talks about 3 tracks in particular: Being Different, The First Lie, The First I love You

To put it briefly: "The First I love You" plays in both Robin's coming out scene and El's kiss with Mike at the end of s3 (Already a weird parallel). The three tracks not only share the same melody, but they also sync up perfectly. "Being Different" (s4 van scene) and "The First Lie" (Nancy and Jonathan's kiss in s2) especially, match up together to create an entirely new track, completing eachother. The scenes featuring those three tracks also share very similar themes at their core. (This post goes into a lot of detail!)

Playlistgate: Character playlists! At a certain point, every character's official playlist on Spotify was deleted, except for three: Mike's, Will's and Billy's. Songs were seemingly being added/deleted for no reason to the Mike and Will ones and people were struggling to make sense of it all.

Also, Mike's character playlist in particular is VERY interesting (so many byler coded songs, as well as "Smalltown Boy" a gay anthem, about a young gay boy forced to leave his home town to escape from their disapproval and homophobia.) There are three playlists on Finn's spotify that are very incriminating. "Love songs" (That has "BOYS DON'T CRY" on it, a song that Will literally has a poster of in his room), "drive" and the most recent one "STurn". These playlists feature songs like "Let her go", "Angst in my pants", "Me and Michael", "Gay thoughts" just to name a few. Basically a lot of the songs on all four playlists seem very relevant to some complicated feelings about Mike's relationship with El/Will but also with himself and his sexuality.

Scriptgate: Oh boy. Here we go.

On August 5th 2022, the byler fandom got #bylerscript trending worldwide on Twitter while waiting for the 8flix account (run by Nick Runyeard) to release some supposed s4 scripts (that people PAID for, mind you). These scripts dropped on August 8th, featuring lines like: "I hate who I am" from Will in the van scene, "His mouth dry, like a California summer" from the bedroom apology scene and also, Will seemingly recognizing Brenner at NINA, despite never meeting him in canon.

These turned out to be fake and the community was in shambles. Nick started calling people psychos, the Stranger Writers tweeted that everyone got scammed, Nick privated his account and the authenticity of some released s2-s3 scripts was questioned. This post explains the entire situation in detail.

Breathgate: This one is also script related and specifically about a Mike/Max parallel.

In the official van scene script, when Mike sees Will's painting "his breath catches." Then, when Lucas asks Max to the Friday movie date, "(her) breath catches" as well. People caught on that parallel very fast and since the latter is obviously a romantic moment, it boosted their confidence for both Byler and Lumax endgame.

Piggybackgate: This one refers to two different situations/theories.

One, the seemingly deliberate framing of Mike and Will inside the little bubble in El's piggyback drawing (and it referening to Byler). The framing is especially suspicious, because the bubble drawing was drawn two separate times (it's different from one shot to the other). In the second shot, they're framed directly inside of it.

Two, Mike in his monologue essentially piggybacking off of Will's van confession. His monologue was going off of El's feelings, but since they weren't actually El's, the speech was based on Will's feelings. It also ties in with the parallel/foreshadowing between the monologue and Suzie's house, with Will being paralleled to the "director" kid, directing a "choking" Tabitha and their dad (more thorough explanation here).

Footballgate: On December 25 2024, the vast majority of the byler community spent their Christmas watching hours of NFL football, in the hopes we would maybe get a teaser or at the very least a release date for s5. This started from leakers saying we would most likely get something during the game.

We got nothing.

People were disappointed they wasted hours of their lives watching a sport they neither cared for or knew anything about, and the only thing we learned is that we would probably get something before the end of January 2025.

THE SILLIES

(aka the joke-theories/memes)

Miniongate: Mike and Will are secretly minions. (Because you know, minions are primarily blue and yellow)

This information will be revealed to us in s5 and they will have a magical girl-esque transformation where we see their true minion form. (Original post here)

Localvillagegate: Related to the leaked Mike and El rooftop scene.

Basically, a mlvn used AI to lip read the scene and try to figure out what Mike is saying (and then posted the video on Twitter).

According to them, Mike was telling El they were going to leave the local village (AKA Hawkins) together and travel to a beautiful faraway land with "like, three waterfalls or something" (and also that she has to "improve her motivation", whatever that means).

People thought it was hilarious and started making a ton of memes based on it.

Parrotgate: This is directly connected to localvillagegate™️ and it was created by @cloudycleric in one of his streams.

Basically, the parrots are gay and represent Will and Mike, who in s5 will kiss under the three waterfalls depicted on the image.

Backgroundguygate: People making headcanons and creating backstories for random extras. The star of this gate is Barrett, an extra from the Lenora high school, who wears a barrette, bright red pants and a shirt that says "Hell".

According to this gate, he's actually gay and in love with Will. He has a goth best friend named Claire who is a lesbian and in love with El.

Chancegate: The theme of shipping Will with random extras continues on strong

Chance is one of Jason's friends and part of the basketball team. People thought he was attractive and somewhere along the line started making headcanons for him and shipping him with Will (Bychance). Basically, they're gonna date and Mike will be jealous.

Mikhailgate: More shipping Will with randoms! (I'm beginning to see a pattern here)

Originally created by @paladin-n-cleric

Enzo in S4 mentions his son, Mikhail Antonov. Mikhail is the Russian name for Micheal.

People started making jokes that Mikhail would arrive to Hawkins from Russia in s5 and shipped him with Will (Willhail), since he's like Mike but Russian and cooler. They made fanart, edits and posted pictures of Finn as Boris in "The Goldfinch" claiming it's Mikhail.

@will80sbyers then begun to ship Mikhail with El and thus the ship "Jail" was born.

Pastagate: On January 2nd 2025, Noah posted a 2024 recap on IG, which included a photo of a trailer door labeled "Rigatoni". People then started joking about Rigatoni being Will's new bf and the ship "Willoni" was born.

In reality, Rigatoni is a nickname for Noah and that was his trailer. But where's the fun in that?

Baldmikegate: Did you know Mike is actually bald and is bullied for it? Well, now you do.

In 2022, a cult was born and the byler tag was filled with edited pictures of Bald!Mike. Terrifying honestly.

Some people made posts about how the rest of the party feels about Mike's secret baldness and some even wrote FANFICS.

Gridgate/whiteboardgate/pixelgate: The Stranger Writers posted a picture of a pixelated/blurred whiteboard that had the entirety of s5 mapped out. People were desperately trying to decode it and figure out what was written on it.

On the space for episode 7, there was a "big black hole" that people went crazy trying to make sense of, only for it to be revealed as a pen holder.

Babygirlgate: The babygirlification of Mike Wheeler. That's it. That's the gate.

I think pretty much every line Will has ever said to Mike has been posted with the word "babygirl" replacing his name (it's hilarious and I love it)

Some examples here and here

Mattduffersbasementgate: Finn and Joe made up a third Duffer brother named Pete, who has no hair for some reason and is the actual writer of Stranger Things, while Matt and Ross are just the faces of it. Pete lives in a shed/Matt's basement and that's where he writes all of the scripts.

Finn and Noah are both also being held in Matt's basement however, and they're not allowed to leave so that they don't spoil byler endgame.

Lobegate: (This gate was officially named by @tripleatechie). In January 2025, a byler went undercover, sending asks to other members of the community pretending to be a Mlvn. In one of those, they accidentally misspelled "love" as lobe, which immediately became an inside joke. People starting speculating whether or not this was an actual Mlvn and an investigation ensued. On January 7th 2025, the identity of the undercover byler was revealed as @somewiseoutthere. The mystery didn't end there though, with people wondering if this was in reality a group effort with multiple culprits. Here is a list of all the possible culprits with a full timeline here.

omg this took SO LONG, but I will keep adding as more gates surface

(this post is for you @felix-fathoms @bibylers)

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search. 

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition. 

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received. 

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all. 

Yours truly, 

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there. 

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea. 

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws. 

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed. 

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom. 

Yours truly, 

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew 

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention. 

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them. 

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama. 

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters. 

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.” 

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them. 

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?” 

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?” 

“Everything is wrong with that.” 

“Hmm.” 

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face. 

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.” 

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?” 

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.” 

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.” 

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.  

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said. 

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.” 

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud: 

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered. 

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her. 

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.” 

“Piss off.” 

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms. 

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.” 

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell. 

“I don’t want this anymore.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.” 

“Please, just give u—” 

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.” 

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.” 

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.” 

“I second that.” 

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.” 

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything. 

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?” 

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.” 

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.” 

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society. 

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today. 

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps. 

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness. 

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get. 

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham. 

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month. 

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen. 

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.” 

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?” 

“Not your room?” 

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.” 

“You are getting restless.” 

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?” 

“Oh yes, she’s fine.” 

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.” 

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name. 

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact. 

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.” 

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.” 

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.” 

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?” 

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.” 

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you. 

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?” 

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.” 

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?” 

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”  

“And, by the way, I already washed up.” 

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.” 

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room. 

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora. 

“Oh, good. It is just you.” 

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?” 

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.” 

“What?” 

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.” 

“Your Highness.” 

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.” 

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.” 

She gasped as you hugged her. 

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.” 

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.” 

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.  

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination. 

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?” 

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it. 

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs. 

“Is there a problem, Marshall?” 

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.” 

“WHAT?!” 

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back. 

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance. 

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss. 

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…” 

“Beckett,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name. 

“Mrs. Beckett?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all. 

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.” 

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.” 

You nodded. “Simply Miss Beckett.” 

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.” 

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues. 

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.” 

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.” 

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.” 

They all chuckled when you laughed. 

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.” 

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you. 

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?” 

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.” 

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?” 

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time. 

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.” 

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.” 

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.” 

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.  

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie @daykrisr999

[curlyfriesgalore]

headcanons of a

hibiscus-loving boy ♡

☆ requested by anon — my daisuke headcanons.

★ a long sfw & nsfw headcanons list with one-shot segments of solo! daisuke scenarios to start off the new year 🥳.

☆ gen tags: fem! reader but reader isn't in his life (yet). the sfw takes place on earth and the tulpar, while all the nsfw is on the tulpar. before the crash (except it is mentioned in one headcanon). daisuke & his relationship with his parents. daisuke is single but very much wishes he could mingle. bits of silly stuff because it is daisuke, after all. someone please date him already... swansea is so sick of listening to him rave about "hot babes."

★ nsfw tags MDNI: malesub. dry humping objects. semi-public masturbation. daisuke uses a vibrator & flesh-light individually. mommy kink (as expected) and puppy kink (only mentioned though). lots of yearning for his dream girl and fantasies of women in general. (could it be you? 🫣)

[anon, thank you so much and i hope you liked this! on another note, i'm working on a long fluffy daisuke x reader oneshot, so you guys will get that wholesome content eventually. also, i forgot that daisuke was probably canonically bunking with swansea but... for the sake of this and daisuke's dignity, he gets his own room lol. —iris🌠]

sfw.

★ earth.

this isn't a set headcanon of mine, but i like to think that daisuke is a japanese and filipino man who grew up in hawaii but doesn't go home to his respective countries often. when he does, it's always a long catch-up with his large extended family, whom he misses dearly.

he gives off the energy of a single child solely raised by his first-generation immigrant parents, both of whom want the best for daisuke's future but struggle to show that in a constructive manner.

he has a relatively solid relationship with them, and their arguments are still within the realm of what is expected of families. however, there's a degree of emotional distance between him and his parents, especially with his mom who's a bit firmer on daisuke's education than his dad, who still cares about it just as much, but he's more reserved compared to his wife—the outspoken of the two.

with how they both work full-time and how he grew up with a vastly different upbringing from them, daisuke doesn't feel as close to his parents as he thinks he should. sometimes, they don't understand him, like his incessant love for thrifting and doodle-drawing, and sometimes, he can't understand them, like their insistence on getting him into an ivy league college when a public university works just fine (according to him).

daisuke is much more fluent in tagalog than he is in japanese, which his mom pesters him to study more, fearing that he'll struggle to pass down his knowledge of her lineage to his future kids properly.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"tch, and how will they know how to speak to their obaachan, hah? it's not that hard to practice every morning, dai-dai." his mom sighs, one hand clutching the strap of her kinkachu bag while the other held a bottle of olive oil.

daisuke withheld a groan, grumbling to himself before responding, "i knowww, ma, i know. i'm just busy, okay?" his forearms fold over the trolley's handle, bringing his chin to rest on top of them.

she glares, "busy playing with your gameboy? you call that busy?"

without consciously intending to, he rolls his eyes, then swiftly snaps them back in place. cringing at himself as he purses his lips, a pathetic whisper of sorry leaves his clenching teeth.

before he knows it, his mom is scoffing. she squints at him with her brows furrowed, her gaping mouth quirking to one corner, and shakes her head in disbelief, bee-lining to the next thing on their grocery list.

"eh?! mama, i didn't mean to!" daisuke quickly splurges a cacophony of apologies as he pushes the cart, trying to keep up with his mom.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

other than that, his parents genuinely love him, as much as they begrudgingly listen to his endless rambles which they barely understand because of how all over the place his retellings can be.

daisuke always finds ways to interject his current story with another story that relates to the initial story, which he must explain in excruciating detail, or else they won't get the references he'll make when he continues the first story! so they just sigh and nod their head. (it's even worse for his dad when daisuke starts using english slang that's far too modern for his head to translate in real-time).

his parents have considered a second child. however, the financial burden, emotional weight, and physical pain from vaginal burns or cesarean scars that they'd have to repeat were too much. one sugar-charged chatterbox of a kid was enough for their lifetime.

daisuke wasn't always sure about what he wanted to do in life. his mind had always been glued to his dreams of traveling beaches around the world, flirting with pretty girls with a piña colada in hand, sifting through vintage pieces, and finding a girlfriend who loves him enough to want to do the same! but even then, he didn't know how to get to that point. of course, the simple answer was money, but how he'll get that money was what spun at the forefront and lingered at the back of his mind.

though, this is daisuke we're talking about, he's sure this'll work out one way or another!

"girls like smart guys, right?" he'd ask himself as he browsed through a leaflet listing all the STEM subjects his mom had circled in neon red ink. daisuke's eyes drift to the arts and humanities page, wincing at the sheer lack of majors highlighted on that side—it was next to none. save for architecture, which his mom suggested he should try because of his drawing hobby, but, truth be told, it was just a hobby for him.

he loved the freedom of art, especially doodling. it was a space for him to explore whatever wacky design popped into his mind. he'd look at a simple object, darting his eyes to several others, and merge it all into a story of sorts. whether it be a turtle-pig fishing for sentient crackers on a wooden boat or an intergalactic wasteland where sweets colonized spices, it was his favorite pasttime. so, the possibility of having that be ruined by conforming to another person's rules and regulations wasn't for him.

he once suggested studying fashion. assorting clothing pieces, designing looks, and learning its history was a genuine passion of his, but one look at his parents' faces was enough for him to quickly drop it.

daisuke has fixed cars in the past—not fully, but he's helped his dad and a couple of neighbors for some extra dough, and has managed to learn a thing or two.

he was pretty good at math and physics, preferring the latter of the two because he actually got to apply that math into scenarios much more interesting than 'find the radius of a hemisphere of volume 80 cm^3.'

so, when daisuke's mom learns of pony express' last-minute aerospace mechanic internship, she's ecstatic, excitedly telling him to prepare his resume because her son is going to space! after all, her boy got the brains for it.

daisuke genuinely looked forward to this opportunity as well. however, funnily enough, he was terrified of outer space. though he was weirdly okay with the unknown depths of the ocean, the galaxy? that was a different story. at least, if he were drowning in the sea, there was a higher chance of him surviving than choking out in space. he shivered at the thought.

nonetheless, daisuke focused on the positives. "holy shit, what if there are alien beaches with hot ALIEN babes?!"

however, his cv wasn't all that impressive by pony express' standards. so, out of sheer desperation, his mom used a couple of her connections to secure that spot for him, but daisuke doesn't know about this. he thinks his smarts alone got him the job.

she's so adamant about his education because she fears for him, like any parent would. she doesn't want daisuke to suffer financially the same way her and her husband did growing up—it was her nightmare, actually. so, hopefully, with enough prayer and preparation, this will benefit him greatly. (oh... if only she knew).

before his space trip, daisuke's dad treated them all to a 5-day family holiday out in california, letting daisuke choose most of the activities, aka revel in his inner child via arcades and amusement parks. he actually made 2 friends, both in separate places, who'd accompany him whenever his parents got too tired from walking or couldn't bare the insane waiting lines (which was 90% of the time).

his dad had been secretly saving for this ever since daisuke was a kid, wanting to give his son the best birthday an 18-year-old could ever want.

while they've gotten richer over the years, his dad constantly struggled to feel secure in their wealth, feeling as though they could lose it at any time like his family had back then.

★ the tulpar.

upon arriving, daisuke didn't realize that he was a very late addition to the team. he noticed a slight hesitancy in everyone, which made him feel awkward, but in classic daisuke fashion, he shrugged it off and tried his best to get on everyone's good side.

(he definitely vomitted in his mouth soon after take-off).

daisuke quickly befriended everyone. the easiest was curly. he was the captain, after all, and the friendliest and handsomemest boss he'd ever met. even though it was pretty obvious that curly initially tensed at the lack of proper planning from pony express' end, he soon forgot it when daisuke eased into the crew just fine, impressed with how optimistic he'd been.

then, it was anya, who was a little quiet at first, but when she got used to his chipper nature, she had no trouble giggling with daisuke. she's glad to have someone other than curly to have fun with during their game nights, and even curly wasn't the easiest to play with because of how frequently he'd doze off in between turns, drool already dripping down his light beard. so, daisuke was a massively fresh change. he was energized and dramatic, passionately involving himself in the game and sneakily cheating whenever anya was getting a little too close to winning.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

curly called out for anya, asking where she had put his sleeping medication. anya lifted her view off of the board, her finger still holding her chin, and turned to curly, whom she gave instructions to.

daisuke and anya sat on the ground in front of the lounge couch, which swansea sprawled himself on—arms folded over his belly—as he dozed to sleep, his quiet snore growing louder by the minute. daisuke looked at anya, who was now bantering back and forth with their captain, and a mischievous grin inched up his cheeks.

with a very "inconspicuous" whistle, daisuke swiftly switched the positions of her queen and his bishop, shifting his eyes everywhere to ensure no one had seen the evil he'd done.

as anya's laugh died down and brought her focus back to the game, she moved her knight to somewhere on the board, not noticing the changes. then, as ego fueled his chest, daisuke took out her king.

"check and mate, anya." he proudly smiled, flipping his hair. he flicked open his fingers and spread his arms away from the table, figuratively dropping an explosive as he mouthed a boom.

"WHAT?!" anya exclaimed, her brows knit up her forehead as she scrutinized the chess pieces.

swansea snorted awake, startled by the sudden noise. "hah?! oh, what...? wh-what happened, where were we?"

bemusement painted her face when she realized what had happened. she pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the cheater and pointed at daisuke, wagging her finger, "you did something, didn't you?"

daisuke stifled his laugh, remaining nonchalant and poker-faced as he shrugged. "i have no idea what you're talking about."

anya and daisuke just "argued." anya flailed her arms at the monochrome pieces, while daisuke found it increasingly hard not to burst into chuckles.

swansea lifted his back off the sofa, his spine resounding with a loud pop. in his neutral grumble, he said, "looks like daisuke won fair and square to me." then he went back to napping, flopping his neck onto the headrest.

anya was gagged, feeling like she'd gone crazy, so, daisuke finally cracked and cackled, falling to his side as he smacked the floor with tears in his eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

surprisingly enough, it was jimmy with whom he got on good terms with next. well, good enough terms with. they rarely ever talked. their conversations were limited to offhand encounters if they were the only ones near each other, where daisuke asked simple things about his life, followed by jimmy's cold hum.

so, as to not make things awkward, majority of what they discussed related to the tulpar and its workings. (jimmy secretly enjoyed it, though, feeling like he was more important than curly because daisuke would go to him for these types of questions, besides swansea. even though, the reality was that daisuke liked curly way more for how much he could joke around and still found room for professionalism.)

then, there was swansea. daisuke's favorite person, and his one and only mentor!

it felt nice for him to hang out with someone like his parents, except he was more wrinkly, irritable, and meaner than them. sometimes swansea's jabs can sting, but daisuke knows he means well. (then again, daisuke feels that way about everyone, and he's not sure whether that's a good or bad thing.)

despite his clumsiness and how often his mind drifts off to fantasies of breathing in tropical air with bikini-clad ladies surrounding him, he's learned so much from swansea.

it's not just about mechanics, but about life, his experiences and what all the good, bad, and ugly mean to him. without giving too much away about what he's been through, daisuke still managed to infer a couple of things.

albeit, he can be hard to understand. while swansea's advice is straightforward, he is in a descriptively convoulted way. so daisuke could only fully process it when he's lounging on the couch with swansea, taking in every word and, for once in his life, shutting up—which has only happened a couple of times, but hey, who says daisuke can't maneuver his way for more?

he hopes swansea will write him an extensive letter of recommendation and not mention all the times he's given him the wrong wrench, that one foam incident, or his ramblings of how he lowkey highkey wants to be a model, to which swansea would slowly blink at him for.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you want to be a model? for what?" swansea inquires, standing with crossed arms as he watches over daisuke adjusting a screw.

"well, you know, for fashion! getting all dressed up n' stuff, my picture being taken as i pose for the camera." daisuke momentarily stopped twisting the bolt and posed for swansea, smoldering as he folded his arms, definitely not imitating the old man.

swansea just rolled his eyes and told him to get back to work, putting his hands in his pockets instead. "so why'd you pick fixing metal junk instead?"

daisuke paused, ruminating on his following words. "i dunno, my parents want me to be an engineer, which is, like, super cool and all! and i do want to be one... it's just, it'd be nice to try other things i'm good at and see where they'll go, you know? you get me, right, swansea?" he went back to fidgeting with the pipe.

swansea stood there, softly nodding to himself. "i mean, they have a point—torx, kid, not hex," swansea pointed at the other screwdriver in the toolbox next to daisuke, "they don't want you risking unstable work and have no means of supporting yourself."

daisuke ate his lips, and swansea could see him grow smaller by the second. he sighed, "but, i'm not saying that you can't pursue that. you should, at some point, but my daughter's done it before, and she says it's not an easy world—"

"she's done whAT?!" daisuke brightened, nearly dropping the screw in his hand.

"did you even hear a thing i said?" swansea frowned, instinctively crouching down to cup his hand under where the bolt almost slipped.

daisuke nodded, "yeah, yeah, i know, but that is so cool! omg, can she hook me onto some agencies? does she know any? please, swan—!"

"slow down, kid..." swansea unintentionally chuckled, pulling the tool in daisuke's hand back to the pipe. he shook his head and actually smiled, albeit small. it nearly made daisuke even more happy than he was about the news.

"look, like she said, it's not all fun and games but it is possible to be successful. you've just got to be serious, like you should be..." he taps on the metal, "...here."

"okayyyy..." daisuke heaved, defeated by the present realities.

there was a beat of silence. swansea stretched his neck from shoulder to shoulder and spoke, "...but when we get back to earth, i'll try talking to her, 'kay? now, finish up; you've already been taking long as it is."

daisuke excitedly bobbed his head, saluted him, and returned to his task.

★ extras.

daisuke secretly holds 'runway shows' in his room, walking from one end to the other as he stuns his imaginary audience with all of his hawaiian tees.

no one knows this, but he often draws himself with his dream girl (aka you, heehee). there are so, so many pretty portraits of her. you can truly see the effort he's put in these with every graphite stroke and his smudged fingerprint dented into the paper.

brought so many rings and earrings on board, only to wear the same ones every day 💀.

he enjoys a lot of music genres but predominantly loves pop. i like to think that the game takes place in the retrofuturistic 1990s, so daisuke listens to a lot of sir mix-a-lot and backstreet boys. he probably plays 'livin' la vida loca' on repeat when he's cleaning up foam with swansea.

would not be surprised if he has played every pokemon game on his gameboy.

his sleeping quarters are near swansea's, so... you can imagine how quiet he needs to be when he "relieves" himself (which makes the nsfw section even more embarrassing for daisuke, lmfao).

nsfw.

when daisuke finally realized that he would be alone.. in a room... in a spaceship... for a year... with no parents there to barge in, he tried so fucking hard to hold back the devilish smile crawling up his mouth (think knee surgery grinch). oooof course, he was going to abuse the living shit out of this freedom.

as told by swansea, daisuke "only thinks with his downstairs longnose." so, it's safe to say that he frequently masturbates, to no one's surprise 💀.

however, he needs the physical visual of something to really get off. he can still cum without it. but, as much as daisuke enjoys his fantasies of paradise, it takes an excruciatingly long time, and it never feels as good when he orgasms.

(if mouthwashing took place in our year, he definitely gets super turned on by nsfw audios. stuff like 'F4M gentle mommy praises you' would absolutely be his go-to genre.)

so he brought a portable tv and vhs player, secretly stashing all his favorite porn mags and cassette tapes, along with some new ones he's been dying to watch. the majority are vanilla, with a few bordering on bdsm, a couple of threesomes (it didn't really matter to him if they were FFM or MMF), and solo girls touching themselves as they tell him to follow their instructions, but a lot of them had an overt femdom feel, save for a few.

he tends to jerk off really fast and struggles to pace himself in a way where he doesn't greedily let himself reach his high, so closing his eyes as he listens to porn helps him extend that to a little close to 20 minutes. otherwise, this guy is done in maybe under 4—7 if he's lucky.

(unsurprisingly, he once came in less than 30 seconds from just teasing his tip. he got so embarrassed that he hid himself under the covers, shoving his face into the pillow, for being so pathetically easy).

even then, he can go so many rounds. when there's nothing much to do on the ship, and everyone was too involved in their own business to pay attention to him, he's had a few times where he used 3 of his 5 resting hours just jerking off back-to-back.

no matter how he toys with his dick, he'd always end up an adorable whimpering mess. he was naturally sensitive; pools of pre-cum would easily drip out of his tip after a few strokes, and his thighs would involuntarily shudder with each pump. however, that meant his moans would become so unbelievably loud that his whines could carry through the thickest of walls—unsurprisingly, very in-character for daisuke.

so he's grown used to muffling his mouth moments before he cums. either his palm pressed over his panting parted lips, or he'd resort to smushing his face into his pillows whenever it overwhelmed every inch of his body.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke lay on his side. with one hand tucked under his cheek, gripping strands of his hair, and the other vigorously milking his cock from base to tip, his half-naked body trembled on his bed. the patterned covers sprawled away from the beaded sweat rolling off his inner thighs, and all that filled the air were daisuke's desperate, high-pitched gasps.

a rising heat inched within his abdomen, and his wrist spasmed as every jerk reached speeds unbeknownst to him. daisuke pathetically attempted to smother whatever incoherent mewls escaped his throat, biting down on the skin of his lightly chapped lips, but it was futile. he was starting to lose it.

so, he rolls. he rolls his face into his pillow and props his knees on the mattress, brandishing his ass in the air with his back arched towards the tulpar's metal ceiling.

hoping he's suppressed himself enough, daisuke began whimpering out loud, cushioning his cries as he touched himself as fast as his slippery penis would let him. a list of curses fled his lips as he tried visualizing someone hover over him, grabbing hold of his drenched dick, pinning his head further into the pillow, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

after a couple of twists of his tip, he finally spilled all over the bed, his drool following suit. his cock twitched upwards, lathering bits of his cum all over his stomach, and with one final huff, daisuke dropped himself onto the mattress, sighing into its warmth—too dazed to notice the subdued thumping of footsteps beyond his door.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

he hasn't gotten the opportunity to have sex yet, nor has he charmed anyone enough to get his dick sucked or touched, but he was very close to it!

once, at a party, daisuke got to make out with a girl from his last year in high school, but this guy would not stop talking after each kiss. all that came out of his mouth were the awkwardest of one-liners and rambles full of compliments. while he thought it was cute, the girl quickly got annoyed. after a few more heated swaps of spit, she left the closet they were in, and daisuke just stood there, embarrassed, stuffing his face in some random person's sweater.

though it was only one failed (but he likes to think it was successful) make-out sesh, he loves the act of it so much. the feeling of a girl pressing him up against the wall, no matter how tall or short she was, clutching onto his shirt as their tongues deepened. the thought of their crotches sliding against one another got him all hot and bothered.

but, admittedly, daisuke wished she stayed (not necessarily the same girl in particular) because he loved the idea of him yapping continuously about something as she touched him more and more, latching her teeth onto his neck as her fingers rubbed circles on his bulge. he'd falter, his words blending into an incoherent whimpery mush as she lifted up his shirt and made her way down his collarbone.

oh, how he fantasizes about receiving and giving hickeys. he'll abide by how his dream girl would want to be bitten down, but he wanted to be marked.

daisuke's always been super into teethy indentations on his stomach and darkened spots scattered all over his chest. so he's practiced on his forearm, watching his saliva coat his bite, imagining how prickly it'd feel on his neck. but what he loves most is its meaning, how it symbolizes that he belonged to a girl and she belonged to him. it always made him feel warm and gushy inside.

lowkey feel like he enjoys dry-humping objects. if he sees a soft enough edge with ridges all over or a pillow that's looking softer than it should, he's rutting his clothed dick against it. but because of that, he gets incredibly horny when he starts focusing a little too much on the corner of any table.

anya once had to snap him back into reality after he intently watched jimmy put his back against a particular part of the kitchen counter. daisuke's face flushed, remembering last night.

he had to take his time thrusting his wet bulge against it. standing on his tip-toes, swaying his hips like a seesaw, as he grips the bottom of the counter for stability, for he was losing it. the way his cum would build up was so different from jerking off. it felt like rushing water pushing against a dam, but it was slow, like waves on a shore inching closer to his feet. this would make him cry, and he'd constantly moan in hiccups, short bursts of suppressed whimpers because of how much effort this took. however, he makes sure his mess stays in his pants. so, when he does cum, it would only paint a large stroke over his boxers as his semen dripped all the way down to his knee.

daisuke brought a vibrator and fleshlight on board, which he bought using some of his earnings from the cars he fixed back on earth.

he fucks his fleshlight like a rabbit when topping, depriving himself from all thought as he picks up the pace. but when he's bottoming, he starts lifting his legs off the ground and spreads them in the air, sending his brain over the moon.

when he tried the vibrator for the first time, it's like he entered a whole new realm. he fantasizes being on his stomach, arching his back with his ass in the air, his dick dangling in between his thighs as a girl mercilessly presses a vibrator up against his parts—cumming a messy puddle into his sheets. even though he could still do it on his own, the thought of anyone on laundry duty questioning the large wet stain was too embarrassing to bear.

it's ironic, considering how much he's into risky semi-public quickies. when he gets so pent up in the middle of organizing tool boxes and listening to swansea's rants, he will excuse himself to go to the bathroom. swansea would just roll his eyes and go, "yeah, yeah. do whatever you want, kid. just don't take forever." whether or not swansea actually knew what he was really doing, daisuke will never know—and, frankly, he'd much rather not.

he'd play with himself, alone. running to the tools closet with his back against the door, hand shoved into his boxers, his slick coating his palm as he clutched his shirt, using it as a fabric muffle for his shakey moans, revealing his heaving chest and hardened nipples. his eyes squeeze shut as his eyebrows knit in ecstasy.

(when the crash happens and he's forced to sleep in the lounge, he often scurries away to empty areas around the tulpar when swansea is too drunk out of his mind to notice daisuke's random disappearances.)

while he's not exactly sure where his mommy thing came from (don't look into that too deeply), he really indulges himself in it. he likes to re-enact his sexual scenarios when he touches himself, saying his lines out loud as if the person he was imagining were with him. he'd whine for mommy to let him cum, and when he got real close, he'd call himself a good boy like it were a mantra.

do you guys think he might like being called 'puppy'? i think it's very likely. he reads as the type of person who thrives off praise and massively enjoys any petname a person could give him.

i think he fantasizes about a bunch of women using him instead of him using women, which is what horny guys his age probably think of more often. but no, daisuke finds it so fucking hot to be used like a toy by more than one person, not knowing what pleasure he'll feel next.

but he's unsure if he would actually like that to happen in real life. sure, it gets his gears going, but he knows he'd be good with his one and only (hypothetical and future) girlfriend doing whatever she wants to him.

[i'm not sure if anyone could tell, but i got pretty lazy towards the end 🫠 if there are any scenarios that you want me to expand into single one-shots then feel free to request! so far, i have two other reqs and 3 original works, so it might take a while, especially because i have irl things to work on. —iris🌠]

[nymphea0]

JEREMY VON NEUSCHWANSTEIN .

HEADCANON.

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Hello Anon🦋, thanks for your request, this is my first time getting a request and also my first time making a headcanon.

it took me a while to make a headcanon, because i didn't read this manhwa before, so i read this manhwa and i need to analyze the nature of jeremy's character based on the original story.

this is a good manhwa, a complex depiction in terms of plot and character.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in this headcanon I wrote.

i hope you like it Anon🦋 , i'm very sorry, i accidentally deleted your question TvT, hope you forgive me, and enjoy Anon🦋. Love - Neva🦋🦋.

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Manhwa : The Fantasie of a Stepmother/A Stepmother's Fairy Tale / A Stepmother's Märchen .

Author And Illustrasion : Spice&Kitty / ORKA(Art).

Publisher : Kakaopage And Tapas.

*Source Image : Pinterest

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Jeremy Von Neuschwanstein'

● Jeremy, the man is the heir of the  Neuschwanstein family, a wealthy noble family. While you, you are just an ordinary girl who works as a gardener at the Neuscwanstein manor.

●you and Jeremy are childhood friends, you play together and grow up together, until all that changes when his mother dies of illness, Jeremy's attitude is not the same as the jeremy you know, he changes.

●as time goes by you are quite close to his stepmother Shuri Von Neuschwanstein, Shuri is very kind to you, she is gentle and respects you very much even though you are just a gardener.

●In Shuri's eyes, you and Jeremy are an ideal couple, shuri had thought that you and jeremy would get married someday, but that plan was forced to disappear when Duke Heinrich proposed an engagement between Jeremy and his daughter Ohara Von Heinrich.

●From there, your relationship with Jeremy, which was previously not close, changed to being like strangers. In Shuri's first life, she could conclude that Jeremy was willing to let you go for his honor.

● For Shuri, in her first life, Jeremy was very protective and liked to spend time with you compared to his younger siblings. Jeremy laughed and cried only with you. For Shuri, Jeremy in her first life was a figure who was very protective of you, pure love.

● However .... in her second life, Jeremy is different from the one in her first life.

● This Jeremy is more passionate and direct towards you. He doesn't care about his status as a noble when he is with you.

● Initially, Shuri thought that this might be Jeremy's true nature, but unfortunately Shuri was very wrong.

● because the current Jeremy is the Jeremy who is willing to burn the world just for you.

● Jeremy is not good at expressing his feelings through words, so Jeremy expresses his feelings through actions.

● he can kiss you, hug you secretly, even when you are busy taking care of the garden.

● Jeremy, he has had the same recurring dream for 1 year, the dream includes his mother who died right on his wedding day and himself who married a noble girl he didn't know, and not you.

●Jeremy was very angry and upset when he remembered the dream, Therefore with the permission of his stepmother Shuri Von Neuschwanstein, Jeremy asked for permission to marry you, which was answered with Shuri's agreement.

●You certainly think rationally, you reject Jeremy, you reject him by giving a reasonable reason, You are just an ordinary person, and not a noble lady who lives in luxury, but an ordinary person who lives in hardship.

● Jeremy rejected your excuse, 1 time, 2 times, 3 times, and many times Jeremy tried to convince you to marry him, even with the help of Shuri and her younger siblings, Elias, and the twins Leon and Rhacel, but the results were still in vain.

● Until when you decided to leave by quitting your job as a gardener, Jeremy decided to marry you by force. He locked you in his room.

● Shuri and her younger siblings tried to convince Jeremy that what he did was over the line.

● But this was Jeremy Von Neuschwanstein they were facing, a Neuschwanstein lion.

● Shuri and her younger siblings could only hope for the best for your fate with Jeremy.

●During your life with Jeremy, he was an incredibly responsible man, although sometimes he was jealous for no apparent reason, but my dear, Jeremy loves you very much, with Jeremy's life as marquess and you as marchioness

●Your life is like heaven with Jeremy in other noble lady eyes. While they never know what is secret behind Jeremy love for you.

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©️Nymphea0 2024 ,Headcanon.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666 @aenishas @elleflying07 @cannyyyyy

[warblogs17282]

I''m busy thinking about how this part of the episode is supposed to directly mirror what's already happened in the show.

Ignoring the obvious s1 e1 reference, let's start with the backstory behind this hit.

Something that this show makes very clear is that she is supposed to represent Stella, for multiple reasons that I will point out in this post.

Instantly starts out with ex-husband, just like with Stella and Stolas.

The next line proceeds to mention daughters, which is obviously the show planting the seeds for the scene yet to come, the Stolitz family scene. The daughters are very clearly supposed to represent Octavia and Loona.

Plus, the whole 'Can't stand my ex-husband enjoying himself' thing is also supposed to mirror Stella in a way, because guess who else purposefully went out of their way to ensure that their husband/ex-husband never was able to truly enjoy himself.

"When he fucking left me for another man!", when he left me for another man who was able to show him actual, true happiness. Just like how Blitz did just that for Stolas.

I also really want to note Blitz's and Stolas' reactions to all of this, for Blitz, even though he knows almost nothing about Stella, you can already tell he's put some pieces together and realized 'oh shit, this is sounding extremely similar to what happened between me and Stolas.', especially considering the way he looked over at Stolas when she finished talking there.

Which explains why Blitz looks so nervous and trying to talk her out of carrying through with the hit, before just outright denying the request, because it hits way too close to home for him as well. With the next thing she says after this scene pictured below just nailing the similarities home to Blitz.

As for Stolas' reaction, you can tell even before this moment that he's also realized just how similar the whole situation is to his own, and that detail tells us that Stolas isn't just talking about the person the client wants dead, but also himself.

Stolas thinks he's selfish for choosing to be with Blitz, Stolas thinks that he deserves death because of his 'selfish' choice to be with Blitz. Stolas likely thinks at that moment that he deserved to be killed by Striker for his 'selfish' choice.

And well, the show definitely doubles down on showing us just how evil the client is, just like Stella.

Then we get to the moment where every single similarity undeniably falls into focus for Blitz. Blitz doesn't see a random gay couple with two daughters he's been paid double to assassinate a member of, he sees himself, he sees Stolas, and their own respective daughters all in the same room as each other, he sees his dreams for the future with Stolas, and their daughters.

He sees a future of domestic bliss with the four of them, the future he's hoping he can achieve some day.

And because of all of these similarities between the family and Blitz himself, he cannot bring himself to ruin a happy family, can't bring himself to ruin what they have, can't bring himself to ruin what Blitz dreams for, can't bring himself to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, and can't bring himself to ruin the family that he envisions as his own as well.

Plus, Blitz would never be able to truly forgive himself if he took that shot, if he killed that man and ruined the family Blitz places himself in. Blitz would see himself as being no better than Striker if he did take the killing shot.

Because, let's compare s2 e4 and this episode for a second.

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with a daughter for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with two daughters for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

Even if Blitz only understands the s2 e4 hit as "Unknown person hired assassin to kill father with a daughter for unknown reasons.", as I've pointed out before, everything about this assassination hits way too close to home for Blitz.

Blitz has probably already realized at that moment that if Striker had killed Stolas in s2 e4, all of his hopes and dreams of having a happy family with Stolas, Octavia and Loona would instantly go up in flames.

So, why would Blitz want to ruin a family that has what he hopes for in the future? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, especially when Striker almost very well killed Stolas, which would've ruined the dream Blitz has that we see here if Striker had succeeded?

What I'm getting that with this is simple, the client represents Stella, the ex-husband represents Stolas, the daughters represents Octavia and Loona, and Blitz represents Striker.

But Blitz isn't Striker, Blitz could've very well chosen to be play the role of Striker and kill that ex-husband, ruining the family as a result for some money, but he didn't, Blitz saw the happy gay couple and their daughters, saw himself in it, and decided the money wasn't worth it, stopping himself or anyone else in the team from taking that killing shot, because Blitz simply refused to play the role of Striker, Blitz played his own role, which is himself.

Blitz is not Striker, and I feel like this moment goes to show even further that Blitz and Striker are supposed to be narrative foils to each other.

[astralis-ortus]

agent(s) of chaos

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— there's a reason why you love game nights with your boyfriend's second family.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, a dash of comedy warning → mild cussing (i think? it's just hints), the chaos that is ot8 stray kids, one time jump, and reader is referred to as baby! no gender specific attributes mentioned aside from reader's hair being soft, heh a.n → based on this request! not gonna lie, i actually got a slight headache from imagining the chaos throughout the fic lol even in my head they're /that/ loudㅠ heh ⋆ see masterlist

game nights with your boyfriend and his friends might not happen often; but once they all come together and get the event date set?

oh, a (good) chaos will definitely ensue.

“goddamit—chan hyung! get your eyes on the game!”

“yeah! go get it, seungmin!”

“felix you bronze—step on it! catch up!”

a collective of cheers and disappointed groans were imminent as soon as yoshi, seungmin’s character of the night, crosses the finish line; leaving dry bowser and baby mario—which respectively belongs to han and chan, in second and third place. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the boys were just competing in some major mario kart competition.

“­wah chan hyung—you’re seriously so bad at this!” changbin loudly protests—to which you genuinely thank yourself for pushing through with the rented villa agenda—while throwing his head back against the sofa in desperation. lee know, their other unfortunate teammate on the other hand, is busy pretending to box against your cackling boyfriend, having a string of ‘sorry’s falling from his lips.

“argh!” switching his target in desperation, changbin immediately puts his hands together and faces you with his attempt of salvation. “please switch teams with me! i can’t do this any longer! he’s so bad!” he pleaded, nearly earning himself a thrown nintendo controller on the head from chan if it wasn’t for your swift hands, snatching the heavy plastic from your pouting boyfriend. Well, not that you mind though, considering how adorable your boyfriend looked while he sulks.

“yah yah yah—changbin hyung!” seungmin intercepted—and if you know something about the kim seungmin, then his iconic multiple-hit comment is about to pop off. “no one told you to be so bad with rock paper scissors anyway!” the younger pointed out, a smug grin etched across the span of his face, “that’s why you ended up with chan hyung!”

“hey!” your boyfriend was the first to react, pointing at the smug younger one—and of course, it’s not changbin if he didn’t follow suit.

“yah! you prick!” huffing and puffing, changbin was quick on his feet as soon as seungmin stuck out his tongue, further provoking the curly haired male while he ran away—only to fish more of changbin’s loud shouts after the younger. “yah kim seungmin! come back here!”

series of laughter follows the disappearance of the two; to which everyone know by heart now, is also the best time for the rest of the kids to take their water and bathroom break—and alongside that, also became the best time for chan to finally take a proper look at you.

“you’re still good, baby?” the switch in his demeanor made you giggle as you lean into chan’s warm touch on your cheek. despite having witnessed the shift countless of times, the way chan’s voice became very soft when he spoke with you never fails to make your heart flutter. “it’s almost 1 am, aren’t you sleepy yet?”

“i’m good,” a smile follows your simple answer whilst your arms found their home around your boyfriend’s waist, snuggling closer to his warmth while chan lifts your legs to cross over his lap. “can last at least 2 more games, i think. besides, i drank some of the coffee jeongin brewed earlier, remember?”

chan’s exaggerated sigh along with his usual disapproving head shake ignites another set of laugh within you, fishing another pout to appear on his plump lips. “knew i shouldn’t have trusted jeongin,” he dramatically piched his nose bridge, trying to look as disappointed as he could. “he’s part of the bad peaches club after all.”

“i heard that!”

jeongin’s resounding shout from the kitchen startles both you and chan—causing your laughter and chan’s to grow in volume. “not sorry!” chan’s reply simply earned a grunt from the younger, not wanting to further continue the discourse while he’s busy arguing with hyunjin about who can get their hands on the last can of beer in the fridge.

“but anyway,” chan’s gaze softened as they returned to you, running his fingers mindlessly in your soft hair, “tell me whenever you feel sleepy, okay? we’ll go to bed right away.”

“i know,” an exaggerated sigh left your lips as you immitate your boyfriend’s previous antics, “this isn’t my first rodeo, you know?” you snickered as you playfully stuck out your tongue—which in turn only further cause the adoration in his chest to bubble.

oh, how he wish you’re all alone right now. he’d immediately tackle you into a cuddle and plant several dozens of light kisses across your face and neck—but he must resist. after all, he wouldn’t want the kids to tease you over something like that.

“gosh, you’re so annoying,” he hummed, lips betraying him as it formed into a massive grin across his lightly flushed cheeks, “think you’ve been hanging around the kids too much. i should keep a schedule for your visits from now on.”

“nooo!”

4 round of games and 20 minutes later, another wave of commotion returns as the race for second place—since first place has again been coveted by the representative agent of chaos, the kim seungmin—ensues between lee know and han.

“han jisung! step on it step on it!”

“lee know hyung! shi—why are you getting as bad as chan hyung!”

“yah! baby, tell—“

chan’s words immediately died down in his throat as soon as his gaze landed on your peacefully sleeping face—plea to defend himself from his kids vaporized and replaced with a soft thump in his chest. You looked so peaceful with your head resting against his shoulder—a massive contrast to the chaos surrounding you—and chan could feel his heart swell. you looked so cute; especially with your fingers wrapped tightly around the controller seungmin had just handed you a few moments prior.

had you been fighting off the drowsiness all along?

carefully pulling you into his lap, chan smiled as he gently peeled the controller off of your hand before dropping it directly onto hyunjin’s unsuspecting lap, startling the younger.

“ya—“

“shut it,” chan hissed between gritted teeth, easily pulling hyunjin’s focus from the chaos happening on screen and to you—who immediately nodded his head knowingly when he realized what’s happening.

“yah lee min—ow! what was th—oh.”

chan’s next target was changbin—who immediately received a slap on the back instead of chan’s quiet warning. it’s rather effective, however, considering outside of the two current players, everyone now has their eyes on you.

“keep it quiet—if my baby wakes up because of any of you,” chan eyed every single one of his kids, not even caring how severe the teasing he’ll receive by the daylight will be for whatever he’ll be saying next,

“i’m not gonna let it slide.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[surielstea]

Lunch Break

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel surprises reader at work with food and a clingy attitude.

Warnings: Az being handsy with reader | cursing

2.5k words

I was in the middle of scheduling a meeting on my boss's calendar when the loud ringing of the phone made me jump.

I quickly picked up the phone and tucked it beneath my ear then continued my typing before I lost my train of thought.

“Velaris enterprises, how can I assist you?” I say with a polite tone.

“It’s Feyre, can you tell Rhys to pick up his phone?” A familiar female voice sounds on the other side of the line. A smile curves my lips.

“Hi Fey, I’ll transfer you to him right now,” I say to the woman with a light tone.

“Thank you,” She sings as I redirect the call to my boss who seemed too busy to pick up his wife’s call.

The line ends and I hang up the phone and then return my attention to my desktop, I had only one more report due until I was letting myself take my lunch break, reclining in my chair with a huff as I continue to type, manicured nails clicking along the keys at a fast pace. In the middle of my sentence, the phone rings again and I pick it up blindly, keeping my eyes on my screen.

“Feyre I could knock down his door but I doubt he’ll answer—” I begin but I am cut off by the other line.

“It’s me.” Is all I heard and my spine straightened at the baritone voice that was so very familiar.

“What’d I tell you about calling my work phone?” I say slightly hushed, afraid my coworkers will notice me being off task.

“You weren’t answering your texts,” He defends, his tone playful, making me suppress a smile.

“What’s so important you couldn’t wait until my break?” I ask, the amused tone in my voice unavoidable as I mindlessly doodle on a blank sticky note, unable to multitask when talking to him.

“I brought you lunch, come downstairs,” He replied and a smile tugged at my lips.

“Right now?” I mumble into the phone with a soft sigh.

“Yeah, c’mon gorgeous it’s going to get cold,” He urged and this time I let myself smile.

“Alright, I’ll be down in five just need to finish something up real quick,” I say, and before he can protest I hang the phone up.

I rush to finish my report, doing it in three minutes instead of five, and feeling slightly accomplished with myself as I close the tab.

I stand from my chair, brush my short skirt down, and round my desk to approach the door to my Boss’s office. I knock lightly before creaking open the door, only to spot Rhysand on the phone with his wife presumably, feet propped up on his desk casually as he did anything but work.

“I’m taking my break,” I whisper and he nods, giving me a wave of my hand. I close his office door and pivot in my high heel.

I walk down the aisle of cubicles with a small skip in my step, excited to see my boyfriend, and also the food he brought for me.

“Taking your break already?” A man named Matthew had asked, leaning back in his chair and peering up at me.

“Yeah, I didn’t get the chance to eat anything this morning,” I reply politely, passing by him.

“You should come out with me and some of the other guys after work tonight, we’re going to the bar off Ninth Street,” He gestures westward and my brows raise a fraction.

“Sounds fun, I might have plans but I’ll let you know,” I say with a gentle smile and he nods, then turns back to his desk.

“Have a nice lunch,” He lowly whistles as I continue my path toward the elevators.

Mathew and his friends had always been so kind to me, I hadn’t really known why, they knew I was with Azriel, which meant they knew they had no chance. And they didn’t seem like the type to respect women, especially not secretaries. So it was best to let them down easy and politely decline their offers or at least give them false hope.

I clicked the button of the lift that would take me down to the lobby, the ride was long from the top floor, giving me the chance to wonder what kind of foot Azriel had brought for me since he hadn’t mentioned it.

I bounced on my heels impatiently until the elevator dinged and the doors parted. I smile and walk out, tucking my arms behind my back to contain my excitement. Gods, I felt like a teenage girl meeting her first boyfriend in the hallway.

“Hi, Mrs. Levvy,” I wave to the older woman who sat at the check-in desk in the building.

“Leaving, dearie?” She asks with a soft smile that I return.

“I’ll be back, just going to pick up lunch,” I say and she nods, pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

The automatic doors open and I immediately spot my boyfriend leaning against his black bike, arms crossed over his chest as the sun beams down onto him. His eyes lock with mine and a dimpled smile takes over his features as I approach him, taking in the way his compression shirt hugs his large arms or the way his tattoos run up the side of his neck.

“Hey, gorgeous,” He greets, hands coming to my waist as I stand between his legs.

“Hi, handsome,” I return, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck and pressing a soft peck to his lips then pulling away a moment later. “What’d you bring me?” I ask, pinching my bottom lip between my teeth. He turned to his side, his helmet and a paper bag propped onto the seat of his bike. He grabs the bag and hands it to me. I peer inside and am immediately met with a familiar savory scent. I look up at him with a beaming grin. “My favorite?” I ask and he nods.

“For my favorite girl,” He hums, hands lowering to my hips.

“Thanks, Az,” I sling my arms around him and hug him tightly. He returns it, his head nuzzling into the crook of my neck. He stays like that, not wanting to move away until inevitably I pull back.

“What’s the occasion?” I say, placing the bag beside his helmet, I still had ten minutes left to my break, and I was determined to spend every last second with him.

He shrugs. “I didn’t get to make you breakfast before you left this morning,” He said and I smiled at the memory, how he sleepily clambered from bed only to coerce me back to the mattress with his deep voice and lazy kisses. It hadn’t lasted long before my alarm went off for the umpteenth time and we both knew I had to leave if I didn’t want to be late.

“That’s sweet of you to leave work for me,” I smile down at the bag and then back up to him, one of my hands intertwining into his hair.

“The shop was slow today, I only had a few appointments until I decided to close early,” He excuses and I tilt my head up at him.

“Still, means a whole lot,” I murmur, leaning into his chest as his hands snake down until finding purchase at the curve of my ass. “Az,” I warn.

“What? This skirt is so short and I’m only a man,” He defends and I roll my eyes.

“Keep it in your pants,” I scoff.

“Afraid I can’t, gorgeous,” He shakes his head. “What about all the other men in that office? They shouldn’t be staring at what’s mine,” He practically whines and I look at him in both disbelief and amusement.

“I assure you, they know I’m yours,” I put him at ease, my hands coming to his jaw.

“Now you know how I feel when you wear these slutty shirts,” I say, tugging at the hem of his compression shirt. He smiles because he knows exactly what I’m talking about. The bastard was highly aware of what he was doing to me.

“Guilty,” He smirks, his hands gripping my ass and I squeal, an uncontrollable grin coming to my features, I was going to retort only to be cut off by the alarm from my phone, that familiar ringing that only meant separation for us. Azriel audibly groans as I quickly silence my alarm, my smile fading away.

“I’m sorry, babe I’ll see you at home okay?” I say and he pulls me impossibly closer, stuffing his face back into my neck.

“Don’t go,” He practically whines and I run my hand through his hair reassuringly.

“You know I’d stay if I could,” I sigh and he tears from my neck in favor of looking me in the eyes.

“Come back home, I’ll take the rest of the day off and we could spend it together,” He pleads, the male awfully clingy despite his usual cold demeanor.

“Az, I can’t my boss—” I start.

“Who? Rhys?” He cuts me off and I frown up at him, then give him a dip of my head as a nod.

“Let me talk to him,” He urges. “I promise you’ll get the rest of the day, paid,” He says and I look at him pointedly, not believing him one bit.

“And how are you going to do that?” I retort.

“He owes me,” He shrugs.

“For what—” I start but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the entrance of the building.

“C’mon, I want to be home already,” He says as I intertwine our hands.

Mrs. Levvy looks up through her glasses at the two of us with an arched brow. “You can sign her out, she’ll be leaving soon,” Azriel says, dragging me towards the elevators. I apologize for his behavior as the doors close on me but she only waves me off with a chuckle.

“Why are you so needy today?” I say, poking his abdomen as the lift takes us to the top floor.

“Can’t help it when you’re dressed like this,” He replies, arms slinging over my shoulders and hugging me from behind.

“So possessive,” I murmur as the doors slide open and I leave his grasp. I walk down the line of cubicles, heads turning as Azriel walks behind me with his hands stuffed into his pockets casually. “I’ll tell him you’re here,” I whisper in the quiet office, dialing on the phone but when I glance up at the brunette I spot him opening the door to Rhysand’s office. Panic rises in my chest and I pale, rushing to stop him.

I enter the room and wedge between Azriel’s frame and the door. Rhys looks at me expectantly. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what he’s thinking,” I smack my hand against my boyfriend’s chest before gesturing him out of the office. My boss only chuckled.

“Relax, if you think this is the first time Azriel’s barged in on me you’re sorely mistaken,” Rhys says with a coy smile.

“Gather your things, baby,” Azriel says with an outmatched confidence. I stare up at him in bewilderment and he only jerks his head as a gesture to my desk and I glare in warning, silently telling him that I’ll kill him if he gets me fired.

Reluctantly, I leave the office and go back to my desk, the door closing behind me. Anticipation rolls into a mass of anxiety. To distract myself I do as Azriel said, collecting my items and putting them into my purse, slinging it over my shoulder, and by the time I was ready to leave Az had exited the office with a soft smile on his lips.

I look at him expectantly. “You ready?” He asks and my jaw nearly drops.

“Wait, how did you?” I say with creased brows, looking at the closed office door and then at him quizzically. He shrugs innocently.

“When you’ve known someone since you were eight years old it’s easy to convince them,” He explains and I narrow my eyes on him.

“You blackmailed him, didn’t you?” I accuse and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I did, yeah,” He grabs my hand and guides me back towards the elevators.

I smiled up at him amused, before halting in my steps when I heard my name called.

I look to the culprit, spotting Mathew with raised brows. “I assume you found plans?” The man asked and I feigned a frown.

“I did, I’m sorry maybe next time,” I tilt my head sympathetically, the way one might pity an animal. My boyfriend’s hands snake around my waist protectively and I nearly roll my eyes at his theatrics.

“Maybe,” Azriel restates, emphasizing the low chance of it.

“Right, next time,” Mathew nods, and the male behind me tugs at my waist, urging me along.

“Have a good rest of your day, Mat.” I give him a small wave.

“You too,” He nods and I pivot on my heel, Azriel glaring daggers at anyone who stared for a moment too long.

Once we were back in the elevator, alone, he dropped the menacing act in favor of his original clingy one. “So are you going to tell me what you blackmailed Rhys with?” I tease and his brows raise.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous, but there are some things I can’t speak of, even to you,” He sighs and I giggle, knowing it must be bad if he didn’t have it in himself to tell me. I dropped it, knowing I wouldn’t be able to get it out of him if I tried.

The doors opened and we both exited. “I need to sign out,” I say to Mrs. Levvy, approaching her desk. She waves her hand dismissively.

“I already did, dearie,” She says and my brows raise, looking to Azriel who only had a cocky smile on his face.

“Then have a good rest of your day I suppose,” I say, backing away towards the doors.

“You have fun you two,” She waves and I return it before Azriel has me outside.

When we get back to his bike he opens the hatch at the front, the compartment holding my helmet. He hands me the light pink item and I smile, putting the helmet over my head and securing it tightly, flicking down the visor.

“You’re so cute,” He admires.

“Shut up,” I say, my words muffled through the helmet and mount the bike.

“You’re not driving,” He looks at me pointedly and I grasp the handles, looking up at him cheekily.

“Why not?” I arch my back playfully and his eyes trace down the crescent shape of my body, then back to my covered eyes.

“No,” He declares before grabbing my waist and taking me off the bike, placing me back onto my feet as I pout up at him. He straddles the bike and puts his helmet on. I huff and get on behind him, my arms wrapping around his torso reflexively. “Ready, gorgeous?” He turns his head to look back at me.

I nod, pressing the side of my helmet to his back, squeezing around him tightly, beyond excited to be going home for the rest of the day instead of heading back to work.

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[sanguineterrain]

Ahhhh yes I'm so excited that you're writing spencer! Could I request something with a reader who's also considered "weird" by people (aka neurodivergent) and it gets them down but spencer doesn't think they're weird obviously and maybe they bond over that? I hope this makes sense 🩷 love ur fics!!

hope this is okay :) spencer reid x gn!reader. rude cop alert, reader feels down about not picking up on invisible social expectations/cues, Spencer comforts them. ty for requesting!

****

New crime scenes make you lock in and hone your attention. You've always done that. Ever since you started at the BAU, that's meant that you break some invisible rule more often than not.

You approach the cop who called in the case from behind. "When did you find the—

He flinches, dropping his clipboard. Immediately, he rounds on you, annoyance palpable.

"Jesus, knock much?" he asks, brow low with frustration. "Sneaking up on people in this line of work is a bad habit."

"I'm sorry," you say, not quite sure what you're apologizing for. "When did you—"

"And who are you, exactly?" he interrupts, looking you over. "Selling cookies?" He laughs at his joke.

You push through, showing your badge and saying your name. The cop snorts.

"FBI, huh? Wouldn't have guessed. You don't act like it. You know you're supposed to sign in, right?"

"Yes, I know. I've been here for ten minutes," you say. You can't pinpoint exactly what you sense, but you recognize the tone someone gets when they're making fun of you.

"Ten minutes?" The cop looks past you. "I didn't see you."

"I signed in at 8:14."

You've learned that being precise is very important because it makes people more likely to believe you. Sometimes your precision puts people off, but you have to show them that you pay attention, lest they have any doubts.

"Uh-huh. Look, is your supervisor here? Someone in charge? I need to give this report to someone."

"You can give it to me. I was assigned to this case," you say.

He snorts. "Right. First time sniffing around a murder case, rookie?"

You blink, confused. "No. This is my thirty-third case."

He's about to respond when Derek interrupts. He flashes his badge, says his name, and the cop clearly respects him, straightening up.

"What have we got here?" Derek asks, and the cop launches into the explanation you've been wanting since you started the conversation.

You get that prickling sensation on your neck, that feeling of humiliation when you've missed some cue. Your first thought is that maybe the cop doesn't respect younger agents, but it's more than that. It's always more.

It's always something you've done.

You slink away, and Derek doesn't even glance at you, which is fine. He's busy. You won't take it personally.

You drift over to Hotch and Spencer instead. Hotch is talking to a witness who heard the gunshots. Spencer is supplementing his questions with information about how bullets splinter different types of wood. He looks at you as you approach and that instantly makes you feel better. Spencer never ignores you.

"Thank you very much," Hotch finally says, touching the witness on her arm briefly. "We'll call you if we have more questions. Someone will drive you home. If you'll follow me out."

She follows Hotch and then it's you and Spencer.

"What do you think?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Too early to tell. The witness said she heard sounds after the shots that she didn't recognize. What did the officer say?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Derek's taking his statement."

"I thought you were," Spencer says in confusion.

"I tried to, but he wouldn't talk to me. He said I don't act like an FBI agent. Called me a rookie."

It's part of the job, these kinds of interactions. Not every government worker is the nicest.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me," you say before Spencer can say anything. It's too honest for a crime scene. Anyone else would be annoyed by your whining.

Spencer shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong with you."

"I feel like there is," you say quietly.

Spencer's the only one who understands. He's been called every name under the sun. He's so smart, and you're always in awe at how smart he is, but, according to Hotch, some people get intimidated rather than awed and say mean things as a result.

You're not a genius like Spencer, though. You're just an agent. You're fine at your job, but sometimes you don't even get the chance to demonstrate that. You have no idea what makes you fumble simple interactions like taking a statement.

"So he made it seem like you're inexperienced," Spencer says.

You nod. "I don't know why. I went to him, about to ask a question, but I guess I startled him. He snapped at me to not sneak up on people. Then I apologized. People like when you apologize, right?"

Spencer shrugs thoughtfully. "Sometimes. Apparently, it's a very fine line between when you should and when you shouldn't. Did you introduce yourself?"

You frown. "Later, I did."

He hums. "Apparently, people don't respect our authority unless we're flashing it obnoxiously. That's what Penelope told me. Take a page out of Derek's book."

You both look at Derek, who's got his hands on his hips, posturing like he's in a procedural drama. Spencer shares in your laughter. It's like drinking the sweetest, richest cup of hot chocolate when Spencer looks at you like that.

"Do you do that?" you ask, smiling.

"Ah, apparently, I haven't quite nailed it. I'm the least approachable agent on the team, according to a DEA agent."

Your face falls. "I think you're approachable."

Spencer lifts his hands as if to say, what can you do? Maybe you should be the same. It's just so hard.

"I can't do anything right," you blurt, sobering up. "There's so many rules, Spencer. I just want to solve cases. Isn't that why we're here? That's why I went to the cop in the first place."

You feel babyish for complaining. You know what someone else would say: suck it up. But this job sometimes feels like you're on the field playing baseball, and everybody else is playing chess. No one else seems to struggle with the invisible rules of being an agent. No one except...

"Yeah, but to that officer, it's also an assertion of power," Spencer says. "He's the kind of person who only responds to perceived authority. He didn't perceive authority from you, even though you have it, because you wouldn't be here if you didn't. So, he thinks you should've cowed to him and flattered him with inane niceties to get the information that you deserve to know to begin with."

You blink. "Really? All that?"

Spencer nods. "I've known lots of people like him. Classic law enforcement personality. For the record, I think it's stupid. You're smart, and you're good at your job. You shouldn't have to make yourself smaller to get people to do what's expected of them."

"I wish I could do something quiet," you say morosely. "Do autopsies or something. Stay out of the way."

Being quiet is easier. You work in a place where some talking is necessary, but it's also not strange to think quietly for periods of time. And people can't get mad at you when you're quiet.

But then, you really love the BAU. You'd hate to be transferred. You'd hate to be away from Spencer Reid.

"I don't want you to be quiet. You're good at what you do here," he says. "Don't let an insecure person make you doubt yourself. Also, you're not inexperienced: you've solved thirty-three cases."

You grin. There's nothing quite like being seen.

"Tell me more about bullets and different wood types," you say.

Spencer's face lights up, and you suddenly feel more sure that this is exactly where you're meant to be.

[applepieshy]

I had an idea to redesign vox because I didn't love that a character obsessed with modernization would wear a top hat and bowtie. then after a brief stint into madness where I read my partner's historic costuming textbook I drew.... all this.

(side note: the idea of vox being a trans man who transitioned AFTER death was super compelling and absolutely inspired by @prince-liest so while this is not direct fanart of their series I wanted to give a shoutout anyway!!!)

okay some TRULY unhinged rambling about historic costume below the cut YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

1950s: for this design I very much did not want to go to the typical a-line housewife look, because I feel that is unfitting for vox's character. instead I went for a more business look, but there is still a level of femininity that he would have been expected to perform. i wanted to express his discomfort with that through the pose and expression, though at the time he wouldn't necessarily have a framework for why he hated it

1960s: this one was very fun. i loved the idea of vox beginning to eschew some of the expected feminine presentation, and he no longer wears makeup, jewelry, or hose (though its hard to tell in black & white); however, he's kind of at war with himself in this time period. he's obsessed with seeming perfect and having a respectable image, so he would not go in for the counter-culture movements that were so big in the 60s. he's still kind of riding those coattails though, pushing those boundaries while still not acknowledging his queerness.

1970s: to me, it was very important that the gender hit as he entered the world in color. in my mind the gender euphoria is physically manifested in a wizard of oz situation - he can become who he always has been. anyway, gender aside, I think it was very important to me personally that he wore an ascot. it was for my mental health.

1980s: I wanted the 1980s to be the period where he began to gain some power and notoriety because of the de-regulation of television during this period to allow more ads, mirroring real-world history. I think if the 70s were when vox gained some real confidence, the 80s are when he got an Ego (tm). "business casual" also began to become more acceptable in this time period, and the t-shirt/suit jacket combo was very important for me to include, as to me it epitomizes the commercialism and machismo of the 80s.

1990s: this was actually the decade I was the most nervous to design, and yet I think it turned out the best? the 90s are known for grunge, which I think is NOT vox's style at all. I decided instead to lean hard into the yuppie look, which I know is more associated with the 80s but was definitely still a thing in the 90s. I also allowed a little hip-hop influence in the form of a gold chain from val, which is not something I think vox would ever pick on his own.

2000s: if the 90s were the decade I was worried about and turned out great, the 2000s are the decade I thought I had down SO GOOD and then totally floundered in execution. I still love the bubble-mac inspired head, and I tried to make his clothes as "round" as possible. I also like that this is the time where his saturation got cranked. however, I don't know if I'm in love with the vest and super bright sneakers, because again, looking back on it, he kind of looks like he works at a movie theater or best buy or some shit lol,,,

2010s: I think it's telling that this is by far the closest to his canon design (2014 tumblr lookin ass). I really wanted to pull from that hipster tech bro era, but unfortunately that aesthetic has a veneration for "retro" which again, is not fitting for vox. I still think he would wear the bowtie during this time because, well... he sure does in the show!

2020s: this was fun because I had an excuse to pull from haute couture design rather than street fashion because of the introduction of velvette into his life. I truly do not think velvette would let vox and val walk around in the outfits that they do because it would be an actual embarrassment LMAO. for this, I wanted his decorative "robes" to be evocative of the time he depicted himself as a priest AND of a cape/robe of an emperor. he does think of himself as that bitch, after all.

[mariclerc]

Hiiii,,

Im in a very angsty mood and was wondering if u could write charles x driver!reader where reader gets in a crash similar to jules’? Maybe have her in the hospital for a bit and charles is scared that he’ll lose her? Thanks ahead of time. Hope u have a nice day!

thanks for this request! I made the effort to write angst, since it is the first time I do it. I hope you like it!!

Fighter | cl16

Summary: where you have a serious accident on the track and Charles's memories of it aren't the most pleasant ones.

Warning: a little bit of angst, a worried and scared Charles, injured reader, some swearing.

a/n: This is the first time I've tried to write angst, so sorry if it's not quite perfect. There's going to be a little point of view from Charles. Let me know if you want a part two of this <3

Part 2

“Are you excited about the race, coeur?” Charles asks you as you enter the paddock. (heart)

You nod. “Yep! I think we can give Red Bull a good fight, and you? Are you excited?” you ask him as you stop to sign some autographs for the fans.

“As long as you don't pass my shiny red car on track, everything's fine.” He says and you roll your eyes with a smile, he giggles.

You two have been a couple for years, specifically since you were both racing in European F4, and although it took you a bit to get up to F1, you finally did it and this was your fifth season. You currently race for Mercedes and there is always that rivalry with the Prancing Horse, a rivalry which you both do not pay much attention to since, if it were up to you, you would support each other on the track as you do off track. You are the most loved and appreciated couple in the paddock, people love the dynamic of the two of you, how you are with each other and so on, and knowing each other from karting and then being a couple and staying together until now is not for everyone.

“Well, I think it's time, see you honey!” you said as you walked up to him to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Be safe, okay?”

“You too chérie!” He said as he also gave you a kiss on the cheek and you both walked to your respective teams. “Love you!”

You enter the Mercedes hospitality and go up to your driver's room and change into your racing suit and then go to the starting grid. Everyone was making the final preparations to start the race and the formation lap, you start in 4th position behind Fernando Alonso and in front of Esteban Ocon, maybe you have to make a good start, but you are confident that you can reach the podium together with Max —who starts first and Charles —who starts second... It's going to be a busy race.

***

So far the race is going well, already in the last part of the race, you are in third place fighting with Max for second place, there is a chance of rain but nothing to worry about...

Or at least that's what you thought...

The track began to get very wet even though it was a "light drizzle" and overtaking became a difficult task, likewise, no driver went into the pits to change tires and there was no warning from the FIA as to whether the drizzle was going to evolve into a storm.

Fighting with Max for second place, you got lost and the car took a turn until the nose was almost inside the net that separates the track from the stands, your head, despite having the helmet, was pushed back... You only remember the big impact against the barrier and your head going numb.

Charles' pov

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please tell me y/n is okay?” I tell my track engineer as I see Y/n's car under the barrier.

“Apparently not, but they say she's fine.” my engineer answers.

But of course she's not fine, fuck it, she's not fine at all. All the cars line up on the pit line while y/n's strong crash repeats on the screens of the circuit, I get out of the car upset and needing answers.

“Shit, shit shit. Why the hell didn't they report about the rain? They think this is a fucking game?” I say to myself as I take off my helmet and throw it somewhere in the box, Andrea hands me a bottle of water and I take it. “I don't understand, I... The same thing can't be repeated, fuck it.” I murmur as I place my head in my hands. “It's incredible that years go by and the same old fucking shit is always repeated, because of them and their inability.”

Upon hearing over the circuit loudspeakers that the race was not going to resume, Andrea takes me to the Ferrari hospitality and I go up to my driver's room where I change out of my racing suit for my Ferrari t-shirt and a pair of jeans, I don't mind going to the "podium" like that and standing in first place, I just need to know if she's okay.

A couple of years ago I lost important people thanks to the same reason: a racing accident, both were horrible accidents that left a mark on me but none like the one I just witnessed. First it was my sports godfather, Jules, his accident left me scarred for life, thanks to this a new safety device was implemented —which doesn't do much to be honest. He died thanks to an accident that left him in a coma for months... Every day I went with my father to the hospital to see him, to see if he was still with us. Then it was one of my childhood friends thanks to karting, Anthoine, It was in an F2 race on the same circuit where hours later I would take the pole position that would give me my first victory in F1, but what happened to him was instantaneous... The next day they announced that he had passed away, my first victory was dedicated to him.

Just as I'm on my way to the "podium" Fred and Toto pull me from the side. “They take y/n to the hospital.” Fred says looking at me.

“Shit... Fuck, why her? Damn tell me if she's...” I couldn't finish speaking because Toto interrupted me.

“Go with her kid.”

“We'll take care of the rest, but go with her.” Fred says, patting me on the back and I run to Andrea to look for my things in the hospitality so I can go, I feel frustrated with myself and I know it's not my fault, but I wish it hadn't happened to her.

***

The sterile white of the ceiling swims into focus as your blurry vision starts to clear a little but you can't fully open your eyes. A rhythmic beeping cuts through the silence of the room. You try to speak, but your throat feels raw and unused. Strained voices filter in from beside your bed.

“...How long has it been? Do they know anything yet?” says Charles with his voice tight with worry.

A female voice is heard, calm but firm. “Mr. Leclerc, we're doing everything we can. The doctors will be with you shortly to explain the results of the scans.”

”But it's been hours!” says Charles with cracked voice. ”Can't they just tell me if she's going to be fucking alright?”

You hear the soft rustle of clothing and a sigh. The beeping quickens slightly.

“We're doing everything we can, dear. She's a strong girl.” The nurse says leaving the room.

He squeezes your hand again, his voice dropping to a frustrated whisper. His eyes don't leave your face.

“Just like Jules... just like Anthoine... why does this always happen? Why you my dear?” he says to himself. “I wish... I wish it had been me and not you amore.”

The door creaks open and the doctor enters the room. Charles straightens up, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

“Doctor, you have an update?” Charles asks.

“We've run some additional tests. There seems to be a minor head injury causing some swelling. It's putting pressure on...”

Charles doesn't wait for him to finish. “Is it serious? When will she wake up?”

The doctor sighs. “It's difficult to say for sure, Mr. Leclerc. Head injuries are unpredictable. But we're monitoring her closely.”

Charles lets out a defeated sigh. The doctor places a hand on his arm.

“She's a fighter, Mr. Leclerc. Just like you.” The doctor says and then leaves the room and gives way to the nurse.

Charles manages a weak nod, his gaze returning to your still form. He leans closer, his voice barely a whisper.

“Come on y/n, wake up. We have a race to win... together.” he whispers.

A faint flicker of movement beneath your eyelids goes unnoticed by everyone in the room. A single tear rolls down your cheek, tracing a path through the dust collected on your hospital gown. The faint movement under your eyelids becomes more pronounced. Your brow furrows slightly, as if struggling against the weight of unconsciousness. A soft groan escapes your lips.

Charles' head snaps up, his eyes widening in disbelief. He leans in closer, his voice thick with emotion.

”Y/n? Can you hear me love?” Charles says whispering.

Your eyes flutter open, blurry and disoriented. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room assault your vision. You let out a low moan, squeezing your eyes shut again in protest.

“Hey, hey, easy. It's okay, you're safe, you're in the hospital.” he says urgently.

A wave of nausea washes over you. You try to speak, but your throat feels raw and scratchy. ”Charles...?” you say weakly.

Your voice comes out in a hoarse rasp, it's barely a whisper, but to Charles, it's the sweetest sound in the world. A relieved smile breaks across his face.

“There you are! Don't you ever scare me like that again, okay?” His voice slightly breaks.

He reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is warm and comforting, the nurse speaks.

“How are you feeling y/n?” the nurse asked softly.

You try to lift your head, but a sharp pain shoots through it. You wince and let out a small cry.

“Easy, easy, don't try to move princess.” he says concerned.

“What... What happened Charles?” you said with a little confusion in your voice.

“You had a big crash during the race, don't you remember?” he asked softly.

You shake your head slowly, wincing again. Images flash in your mind — the roar of the engine, the blur of the track, the sickening impact...

“The car... The rain... I... I lost control” you whisper.

Tears well up in your eyes, the memory of the crash is terrifyingly vivid. Charles takes your hand in his, his grip strong and reassuring.

“It's okay love, you're okay now. That's all that matters.” he whispers.

He squeezes your hand gently, a silent promise hanging between you. The ordeal is far from over, but for now, the simple act of holding hands speaks volumes. You've survived the crash, and with Charles by your side, you'll face whatever comes next, together. You manage a weak smile at him, the sound of his voice a grounding presence. However, the celebration is short-lived. A dull ache throbs behind your eyes, intensifying with each passing second. You squeeze your temples shut, trying to push the pain back.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he asks, noticing your discomfort.

You open your eyes, a grimace forming on your face. “My head... it feels like it's splitting open.”

The nurse step forward. “That's normal after a head injury, dear. We gave you some pain medication earlier, but it might be wearing off... Let me check your vitals again, okay?”

The nurse bustles around you, taking your temperature and blood pressure. Charles doesn't take his eyes off you, his concern evident.

“Is it serious? Should they give you more medicine?” Charles asked.

“Let's see how she's doing first... Y/n, can you turn your head for me, please? Slowly, to the left and then the right.”

You try as instructed, but a searing pain shoots through your neck, making you flinch and cry out. Tears well up in your eyes again, a mix of frustration and fear.

”See? She can't even move her neck! There's something wrong!” Charles says quite alarmed and almost furious.

“It's alright, Charles. It's likely just muscle stiffness from the impact. We can give her some medication and a neck brace for support.” The nurse says calmly.

“Will I ever be able to race again?” you say a little worried with a trembling voice.

The question hangs heavy in the air, Charles reaches out and strokes your cheek gently. ”Don't worry about racing right now, you need to focus on getting better. We'll figure out the rest later.”

His voice is firm, but his eyes hold a flicker of worry. He knows how much racing means to you... For both of you it is the most important thing in your lives, but now that is in the background.

”Exactly... Right now, rest is the most important thing. We'll get you the medication you need, and we'll monitor your progress closely.” The nurse says as she looks for medicine and the neck brace.

The nurse injects a new pain medication into your IV. The relief is slow, but it gradually takes the edge off the throbbing in your head. The nurse places the neck brace on you, although it needs to be tight, as this prevents neck mobility. You lean back against the pillows, exhaustion washing over you.

“Get some sleep, love. You'll feel better I promise.” he smiles weakly.

You nod weakly, your eyelids drooping. Despite the pain and uncertainty, a sliver of hope flickers within you. You're surrounded by love and support, and that makes all the difference.

As you drift off to sleep, you hear Charles whisper a promise in your ear.

“Everything will be okay baby, I promise... Just stay here with me, okay?” He says and you give a slight thumbs up, you feel your whole body weak and destroyed.

The road to recovery will be long and arduous, but with Charles by your side, you know you can face it head-on, even with a throbbing head and a stiff neck.

The fear of not racing again persists in you, but obviously it is not something you can control, Besides, you don't know exactly if you will spend months off the track. What you do know with great certainty is that you have Charles' constant support and that is enough for you.

[a-strange-familiar]

an angsty idea: f! Reader flinches during a steamy (not THAT kind of steamy) argument (bonus points for subspace) ends in fluff maybe idk, <33 ur work is *chefs kiss* ily ♥︎♡

Awww. ily too. Hope you enjoy, lovie 💗 and sooo sorry for the late <333

A/n : I got this request little over a year back and I wrote half of this and completely forgot. I got a random motivation to write this now. I really hope the anon who requested it will have a chance to read it. ♡

And also I reached a milestone (not a VERY big one, but its special to me) on my followers, thank you for all your love and support ❤️

°•○°•○°•○°

It's been more than three weeks since Y/n and Harry spent some quality time together. Harry was really busy with work and Y/n understood that and focused on her university work.

But it's actually bugging her. She can't lie saying that she is not feeling insecure. He is a very handsome man. Beautiful, sweet, respectful and understanding. And Y/n also know for a fact that there are many women out there trying to get in his pants or his life. But she know him, he would never do that to her. But she can't help but worry about it though.

So she kept herself busy with school and work both but she miss Harry, so thought about talking to him and having dinner together.

Today especially she had a worst day, not completely worst but worst day of the month. From the moment she woke she felt off. Something is not good and she had a terrible headache but still she went to college and later to work.

But in college she got a bad grade in a test which led up to her professor calling her to his office and giving her an earful. It's her mistake for not preparing properly for the test. And later she had to face a rude costumer at her work, and her whole mood got even worse.

By the time she came home she was feeling very low and sad. All she wanted was to cry her heart out and have some snuggles from Harry. She misses him soo much, they are living in the same house but lately doesn't feel like that.

She opened the door and stepped inside to find the lights are on, she thanked the heavens that Harry is home early. She just want to see him and kiss him.

She is feeling soo subby, not in a sexual way. She wants to be taken care of and loved. She wants Harry to hug and kiss her tears away. She just wants to be near him.

She went inside and figured that Harry is indeed home and in his office. As every step she takes she hear his voice taking in phone with someone and he is clearly stressed and angry.

She went near the door and contemplated about knocking the door or directly opening it. She decided to knock first, she faintly knocked and the talking stopped for a second and continued.

She waited for a couple seconds and slowly opened the door.

There he is, sitting in his office with his phone in one hand and eyes on the laptop infront him with his brows furrowed and visible tension and tiredness his face.

Y/n sticked her head inside the room without entering completely and called his name.

He looked at her for second, and smiled. It's not his smile. It's not a smile at all. He just made his lip form a thin line and nodded his head to let her know that he acknowledged her presence.

She wanted to call his name again but she didn't. He is busy and that's visible, as much as she wants his attention she knows better that interrupting something important.

She turned back and went into their room. Maybe after a bit he will be able give her his attention.

She showered and wore one of Harry's t-shirt and did her night time skincare. And after a good one and half hour she decided to go to Harry and talk.

She knocked on his office again and but this time she heard a faint 'come in' .

"Hi baby" She said softly

"Hi , love." He said in return and looked at her for a second and got back to his work.

Y/n fidgeted with her fingers and thought of something to talk about.

But Harry broke the silence. " how was your day ? "

She felt relived that he asked about it and that she didn't have to start the topic.

"Um.... not very good actually." She said

He looked at her with his brows furrowed and asked "What happened, baby ?"

"Just not feeling good and didn't have a good day at uni and at work." She shrugged

"Ohh, I'm sorry, love."

"Harry do you think we can watch a movie and talk for a bit. I don't really feel good. I could use some cuddled and a kiss." She asked shyly.

"Um...... " he started .

"I'm sorry but I really can't right now ,baby. I have so much of work. I can give you a kiss though." He said and got right back into his work.

Y/n stood there without moving. She wanted to be understood, all she wanted was his attention and his closeness.

For weeks she has been an understanding girlfriend and gave him space and let him prioritize his work, but she had enough.

"Harry, it's been weeks since we spent some time and shared an actual conversation. I have been patient but I think you should be understanding to my needs too." She ranted all her thoughts inside her head.

He lifted his head for his laptop and looked at her with an unreadable expression.

She really wished to know what was going on in that head of his.

"I know. I'm sorry that I haven't given you any attention in weeks but I have work to do, Y/n. I can't abandon them and look after your needs." He said that last part in a very mocking way that made her wince internally.

She sighed and started "Harry, I think -"

"Y/n, I don't have time for your chit-chat. Can't you see I have work to do ?" He yelled at her with fuming expression on his face.

Y/n was caught of guard by the yelling, and flinched and her face colored with shock and fear.

She was never in an abusive relationship that made her react this way. But seeing Harry yell at her made her pretty sacred and also Harry can be pretty scary when he is angry.

By seeing her reaction Harry's eyes softened and regret was written all over his face.

He was about to open his mouth and get up from his chair when y/n took a step back and murmured a small 'sorry' and left the room in a hurry.

Harry's heart clenched seeing that expression on her face. He wanted nothing more than to take those words back. Seeing tears in her eyes was the last thing he wanted to witness. But he already made her cry.

~~~

Y/n rushed to their room with blurry vision and tears streaming down her face. She wiped her face and got onto the bed and buried her face in her soft feather like pillows.

She cried and let her heart feel the pain for few minutes before she stopped.

She wanted to go somewhere else and give Harry some space, but she can't just go to anyone's house in the middle of the night and crash. So she had no choice but to be in their house.

After few more minutes she heard a faint sound of their bedroom door opening but she didn't open her eyes or peered up at Harry to see what he is doing

He got on the bed beside her and ran his hand down her back slowly.

"I'm soo sorry, love " He whispered.

"I really, really am. Work is hectic and I was going through something at office and took it on you. Im sorry and I know I have been distant lately. It's absolutely my fault and nothing to do with you. Im just an arrogant son of a bitch."

He kissed her head let his lips linger for few moments.

His words sounded sincere and y/n also knew he really didn't mean to yell but it's still hurt her.

"Can you please look at me ,baby ?" He asked her in a pleading tone that she couldn't ignore.

She slowly turned towards him and looked at him, his eyes were sad and regret colored his face. She felt bad for a second.

"I'm sorry baby." He said again as he caressed her face gently with his finger.

"Can you please forgive me, my love ? " He asked her as he looked into her eyes with soo much love.

She nodded her head and gave him a small smile. No matter what happened it's really hard for her to be mad at him for long time.

He returned her smile and kissed her lips softy. "I'll make it up for you , baby. What do wanna do ? You still want to watch a movie?"

She shook her head. "No. I think I want to get some rest."

His smile faltered a bit and he felt disappointed but he gave her kiss and stoked her hair. "Whatever you want , my love"

"Can you can lay down with me for a bit if you are not busy ? " She asked in a soft voice still not wanting to come between him and his work.

His smile grew as he laid on the bed with her and opened his arms wide for her to hug him and cuddle.

Without wasting any time she went into his arms and snuggled with him.

He kissed her head and murmured "I love soo much, love. I will never ignore you again "

°•°○°•°°

A/n : please let me know if you like this and comment and send me asks and interact with me if you like it.

I have been very inactive on this app, but I'm back. Here is small something for you guys. Hope you like it.

As always lots of love. 💗

°•●°°•●°

Thanks for reading.

Hope you enjoyed.

Please like, comment and reblog of you like it.

[randomcreator-09]

Small Heath's Songbird (Thomas Shelby x OCY/N!Reader)

(Gif not mine > @bonniebird)

I WANNA BE KISSED LIKE THIS TOO T^T

Part One - Part Two

✨Pure fluff, No Grace, no smut... for now 😏✨

🐧Aha~ hello people of this world... took me long to finish writing this aha busy playing adult, phew. Ok context, don't get me wrong, I love the original Grace but in this fic, she's nonexistent. OCY/N is an asian heh hope that ayt with yall. ALSO this will focus on season 3, where Tommy has his arrow house already. Although his single asf and relies on whores... Until hehehe yeah boi~ XD Also this is just a character intro sorta... but there would be some important factors here that you need to know to be able to fully understand part two, so READ IT >:D muhahahahaha🐧

Own character description but it's Y/N POV

3.4k words

REBLOG TO SPREAD ADDICTION and kudos are appreciated too thank you ^^

Enjoy reading ^^

Part One - Part Two

-----

Birmingham was unkind to those who were different from them. Although England wasn't perfect themselves they still held grudges to those they deemed 'peculiar'.

You were spot on in that criteria. Small in height, jet black wavy hair, slightly slanted almond eyes, and full lips. However your skin tone was the same as theirs, coming from your European side of the family, that didn't save you from the racial slurs you'd get when you moved to Birmingham. A lot of people weren't as happy as you were when you arrived, a few looks here and there, but your used to it even in your home country. You see, you had bright blue eyes (with a little tint of green). Very unique if you'd say, but people disagree on that, especially your people. They think your the devils daughter and for it they kicked you out too.

It's been a few months since you settled in Small Heath. A kind woman accepted you with open arms and let you stay for a while in her humble home till you found yourself a job. She was a whore yes, but that didn't bother you since you've seen a lot worse than being a whore. You respected her even, for it was hard to live by selling your body to people you don't love. She offered you a job once (to be a whore) but you quickly declined saying 'as much as I respect your field of work Missus, I'd like to keep my innocence to a man I love'.

Not that you were virgin, oh no, you've definitely had made love with a few men through your travels, but none of them really stuck with you or vice versa. They just didn't feel right.

Days went by and the landlady ran to you with the daily newspaper in hand. "Look!" she said pointing at an advertisement, "Personal assistant maid needed," as you took the newpaper from her hands and smiled with delight, 'this is it' you thought. The landlady stubbed her cigar dead on the newspaper "Fuck, it's the arrow house." she said as she took the newspaper from you shaking her head. "Wha- Missus but the pay is good?!" you retorted to which she glared at you at for, "The Arrow House is owned by a notorious gangster who'd either kill you or fuck your life up with his fukin fingers!" she explained crossing her arms facing you "you can't even become a prostitute here why bother going to a devils house and be his whore?" she continued.

Your brows furrowed in question. You didn't mind being with a devil sure but to be his whore... Now that may cross a line. "Personal Assistant maid, it doesn't say anythin about being a prostitute," you tried explaining, even though you knew what she meant by that. Most men thought any woman with no man in public is a whore. However the pay was good, it included your own room, free food, and a lot of free time too! With that thought in mind you could still go for that bar singer position every Saturday in the Garrison (to which you heard from the ladies who lived upstairs who tried the position and failed miserably).

The landlady shook her head and sighed, she can't stop you now for she knew, you have decided and when that happens nothing can ever change your mind. "Suit yourself," as she walked away.

-----

The day came and you got a call back from Frances (the head maid), looks like faith was on your side on this one. Hopefully, not as his whore...

You paused to admire the beautiful house as you walked down the gravel road (unsuccessful with pulling a cab because they'd just pass by you). Red bricks stacked upon each other and gorgeous grey pillars and intricate designs adorned it. Still can't believe he lives alone in this big mansion. You huffed air in your lungs as you stride to the main door, lifting your arms to knock.

Knock knock knock

As you puffed the door creaks open to a woman in black, "Ah, you must be Y/N, come in." as she gestured you in. You stared at awe at how spacious the place was. The stairs up was beautiful with portraits of horses and perhaps you thought the Shelby brothers. "We won't be doing much today. Mr. Shelby is out of town and so tomorrow is when you'll officially start. For now get comfortable and I'll roam you around," she spoke clear and concise as you answered by nodding and 'yes Miss Florence' following her to your room.

Your room was spacious as well. A queen size bed on the middle of the room with a window on the left side and a makeup desk on the right. The room was well lit with electric lamps on each side of the bed side and the ceiling was well sculptured with wooden structures, floor was wooden as well. Although the wall were concrete white walls. The room was on the second floor beside Miss Florence's room, away from Mr. Shelby's room, which was a relief on your side.

Miss Florence gave you an hour to get yourself acquainted with your room and said that you had to be out in the entrance where she would be waiting to tour you around. You nodded and she left.

-----

As you have arranged your things in your new room and got ready for the tour Miss Florence had in store for you, you looked at your reflection in the mirror to make sure you look alright for the day. With a nod and a smile you went out and to the entrance where Miss Florence would be.

Miss Florence, a composed and efficient figure, waited for you near the grand entrance of Arrow House, her expression warm yet formal. She nodded approvingly as you approached, and after a quick greeting, she began the tour.

“Arrow House has its own unique history,” Miss Florence explained as she led you through the main hall, with its high ceilings, elaborate chandeliers, and walls adorned with artwork of the family’s ancestors. “Mr. Shelby brought new life to it when he acquired it, though he values his privacy.”

She walked you through the elegant sitting rooms first, which, despite the muted tones and dark wood, held a sense of opulence. “These rooms are for Mr. Shelby’s meetings and guests. They don’t see much daily use,” she added, pausing by one of the grand fireplaces. The flickering light from the embers cast a warm glow, highlighting the fine detail in the antique furniture.

Next, she led you to the kitchen, which, unlike the other rooms, bustled with activity. The staff members here worked with impressive coordination, preparing meals and ensuring everything was ready at a moment’s notice. “The kitchen is where you’ll be helping from time to time,” Miss Florence informed you. “Mr. Shelby’s tastes are simple, but he expects high standards.”

She guided you through the dining hall, where a large mahogany table stood at the center, framed by polished silverware and neatly folded napkins. “It may look grand, but meals are usually straightforward affairs unless there are visitors,” she commented, giving a rare, light chuckle.

You followed her up the grand staircase, its carpeted steps soft beneath your feet. Miss Florence pointed out the various guest rooms, each one elegantly prepared, with tasteful decor, though they rarely saw visitors. “The family only uses these rooms on occasion,” she remarked, indicating the polished brass fixtures and thick curtains. “Mr. Shelby has specific guests, and they sometimes stay overnight. Best to keep everything ready.”

Finally, she took you down a corridor that led to Mr. Shelby’s private quarters. She paused outside the door of his room. “This is Mr. Shelby’s room. You’re not to enter unless asked.” She looked at you with a hint of seriousness before adding, “Privacy is highly regarded here.”

Finally, after guiding you through the upper floors, Miss Florence led you back downstairs. She stopped near a richly decorated doorway just off the main hall.

“And this,” she said, “is Mr. Shelby’s office. You’ll find him here often.” She looked at you pointedly, adding, “Best to knock and wait for a response before entering.”

Through the doorway, you could see the polished desk, papers stacked with military precision, and the faint scent of cigars lingering in the air. This room, located on the ground floor, clearly held an air of authority and was situated close to the entry—perfect for swift meetings or private business.

With the tour complete, Miss Florence gave a small nod. “Take a moment to familiarize yourself with the house,” she said, before leaving you alone in the dimly lit hallway, surrounded by Arrow House’s quiet opulence.

The sun was still out so you planned to walk around outside. The house had a small garden at the side and a horse stables on the back which was clearly Mr. Shelby's.

The house also had a porch, with a posh white table and two chairs seeing the lush green forest from afar. You sighed as you felt the breeze on your neck to your half-tied hair and crossed your arms around you feeling the cold wind trickling your skin through your clothes. The clothes you wore were expensive to say the least, your former landlady was so sad you were moving out that she gifted you a luxurious royal blue dress to wear going to the mansion.

Suddenly a warm feeling enveloped you as you flinched looking at your shoulders. A dark coat was over your body and a quick smoke flickered your eyes to see a man with a defined jaw and cheekbones. "You must be Y/N," he said as he kept his eyes on the greenery. "Shelby, but you can call me Thomas" as he offered his hands towards you.

As you raised your hands slowly to shake his you hesitated and dropped your hands back to your sides. You removed his dark coat around you and offered it back, "Thank you for the kind gesture Mr. Shelby, but I am your personal made not a visitor. I am here to work for you" you said as you continued to look down at his shoes, unable to look up his face.

"Hmm," a low grumble from the throat made you lift your head up, and there you saw his head tilted closer to yours with his piercing blue eyes straight to yours. "Well, you have beautiful eyes that I can assure ye'" as he puffed out the smoke in his lungs, standing up and taking the coat on your hands and swiftly placing them again on top of your shoulders.

You could smell the strong cologne he had on. Mixed with the scent of the cigar he was taking and blood? It was dangerously addicting.

"You'll start tomorrow anyways," as he started to walk away slowly. "Let me at least treat you as a visitor before you get all busy." as he started to walk towards the stables. You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks reminiscing about his scent and how his face was close to yours.

"You following or not?" a shout from afar caught your attention and removed you from your thoughts. "Yes Mr. Shelby, following!" you shouted back as you ran towards him.

-----(Tommy's POV)

The ride back to Arrow House was a haze of smoke, blood, and lingering fury. Changretta’s betrayal was handled, his lifeless eyes now a grim reminder of the consequences of crossing Thomas Shelby. Yet as the gravel crunched beneath his vehicle and the grand silhouette of Arrow House emerged, a part of him yearned for something—anything—other than the chaos he’d left behind.

As he placed his feet unto the gravel road, the cool evening breeze carried hints of earth and lavender, a stark contrast to the suffocating smoke-filled rooms of Birmingham. He loosened his tie as he rounded the corner of the porch, lighting himself a cigar, his gaze falling on a figure in a striking royal blue dress.

She stood there, arms crossed against the chill, her posture straight but her gaze distant as if lost in thought. Her hair was tied back neatly, a few tendrils escaping to frame a delicate face. He stopped mid-stride, his breath catching for a moment. She turned slightly, and the setting sun caught her profile—soft, porcelain skin glowing against the backdrop of the lush green garden.

For a brief moment, Thomas thought she was a guest, someone important perhaps, yet there was no carriage, no announcement of arrival. It wasn’t until he noticed the plain black shoes and the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress that he realized—this was the new maid.

"Interesting."

He removed his dark coat and approached her, draping it over her shoulders in a practiced motion. She flinched slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, keeping his tone low as he puffed his cigarette. He glanced past her at the garden, keeping his expression unreadable.

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edges of the coat as if debating whether to keep it. “Shelby,” he introduced, his voice firm yet laced with intrigue, “but you can call me Thomas.” He extended a hand.

Her reaction amused him. She raised her hand but let it fall back to her side, averting her gaze. Then, she carefully removed the coat and held it out to him. “Thank you for the kind gesture, Mr. Shelby, but I am your personal maid, not a visitor. I am here to work for you.”

Thomas’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. Her voice was polite yet firm, and her shyness intrigued him. “Hmm.” The soft growl from his throat made her finally look up.

Her eyes caught him off guard. Blue, with a hint of green—bright and unique, a startling contrast against her dark lashes and raven hair. He tilted his head slightly, letting the silence linger as he leaned closer, holding her gaze.

“Well,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “you have beautiful eyes, that I can assure ye’.” He took the coat from her hands and deliberately placed it back over her shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress. “You’ll start tomorrow anyways. Let me at least treat you as a visitor before you get all busy.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and started walking toward the stables, the weight of her presence lingering in his mind.

“You following or not?” he called out without looking back.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby! Following!” Her voice was a touch breathless, and it brought an unexpected smile to his lips.

-----Your POV

As the gravel crunched beneath your feet, you quickened your pace to catch up with Mr. Shelby, who was already nearing the stables. The breeze carried the faint scent of hay and leather, mingling with the earthy aroma of the horses. You hesitated briefly before stepping into the barn, the dim light casting soft shadows across the wooden beams.

Thomas Shelby stood near one of the horses, his fingers brushing through its mane with an ease that spoke of familiarity. The soft nickering of the animal filled the air as he looked over his shoulder to see you standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“You don’t have to just stand there,” he remarked, his tone light but firm. “They don’t bite… much.”

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you stepped closer, the warmth of the stable wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The horse he was grooming turned its head slightly, as if inspecting you. Its dark eyes held a quiet curiosity, much like its owner’s piercing gaze.

“Do you know much about horses?” he asked, handing you a brush without waiting for an answer.

You shook your head, gently taking the brush from his outstretched hand. “Not really, Mr. Shelby. I’ve always admired them, though.”

“Thomas,” he corrected, his voice steady. “If you’re working here, we may as well skip the formalities.”

You nodded, feeling a small wave of relief at his approachable tone. Moving to stand beside him, you watched as he demonstrated the technique, his hands methodical as he ran the brush down the horse’s side. You followed his lead, your movements careful and deliberate.

“This one’s name is Arrow,” he said, his voice softer now. “She’s got a temper, but if you’re patient, she’ll warm up to you.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Arrow leaned slightly into your touch, her warm breath puffing against your arm. “She’s beautiful,” you murmured, glancing at Thomas out of the corner of your eye.

“She knows it,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, filled only by the rustling of hay and the rhythmic strokes of the brushes. You felt a strange sense of ease around him, despite the intimidating aura he carried.

“Why Birmingham?” he asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious.

The question caught you off guard, and you paused mid-stroke. “It wasn’t really a choice,” you admitted. “I needed somewhere to start over, and Birmingham… well, it’s not as unkind as some places.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, thoughtful. “People here can be… particular,” he said. “But they’ll get used to you.”

You didn’t miss the unspoken meaning behind his words—he understood what it was like to be judged, to carry something on your shoulders that others didn’t bother to understand.

“And you?” you asked tentatively, surprising yourself with the question. “Do you get used to people?”

Thomas paused, his hands stilling on the brush. A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face before he turned back to Arrow. “Only the ones worth knowing.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken depth that made your heart flutter. Before you could respond, he straightened, dusting off his hands. “Come on,” he said, motioning toward the barn door. “It’s getting dark.”

-----

The kitchen was warm and inviting, far cozier than the grandeur of the dining hall you’d seen earlier. Thomas moved with an ease that surprised you, setting out simple plates and pouring glasses of water. The smell of fresh bread and stew filled the air, and you found yourself relaxing as you took a seat at the modest wooden table.

“Not what you were expecting, was it?” he asked, setting a bowl of stew in front of you.

You shook your head, smiling. “Not at all. It’s… nice. Feels more real.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile as he took a seat across from you. “Real’s not a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Maybe they’re not looking close enough.”

He looked at you then, really looked, and you felt the intensity of his gaze settle over you like a weight. The air between you shifted, charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

As the meal went on, the conversation flowed easily, each shared story peeling back another layer of the man who, only hours ago, had been a mysterious and intimidating figure. By the time the plates were empty and the kitchen quieted, the darkness outside had deepened, wrapping the house in a blanket of stillness.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on you. “You’ll do fine here,” he said softly accentuating the end remark, almost to himself.

You felt a warmth rise in your chest at his words, but before you could thank him, he stood and walked as he leaned to your side. The sudden closeness made your breath catch, and when he reached down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingered for just a moment too long.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, your hand brushed against his. He stopped, his eyes searching yours, and slowly in that moment, the space between you disappeared. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and unyielding, a moment that felt suspended in time.

When he pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. “See you tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before he turned and left the kitchen.

You sat there, your heart racing, trying to piece together what had just happened. One thing was certain—life at Arrow House was going to be anything but ordinary.

----- End of part one (Part Two on December 24th [to be updated here])

Part One - Part Two

-----

🐧See what I did with the GIF and the ending huhhhhhhh ^w^ anyways hope ya'll can wait till 24th ehe🐧

Like this post to be tagged in Part Two ^^ (and to be added to my Taglist)

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[stuckwthem]

hii could i req a matías recalt x virgin!reader smut ? reader is enzo’s little sister, and so she has to deal with matías and agustin hanging out at their place almost every day. but she doesn’t mind it because she’s practically best friends with agustin. and she has a crush on matías! one day, when enzo and agustin go out to buy some stuff, matías and reader are left alone and they start to keep each other company. one thing leads to another and after they’re done, matías says “who knew i would be the one taking your virginity” 😣😣

altitude | matias recalt

summary: you and matías have a thing going on, but never went cross that line...until then. matías recalt x virgin!femreader

tw: smut, fingering, cuss words, situationship, 4k words of pure profanity

this smut is named after this song. sooo, yeah.

it all started on the last trip, when you first started to hang out with the boys. enzo was not very exactly pleased with the idea of you around all the other guys, not that he was jealous, just a little protective, but after all, they were his friends and he could trust them. agustin, one of the closest friends of your brother and also your best friend even helped you when you tried to convince enzo, so he had no option but to accept. his little sister was coming together and spending three weeks with all those boys and their girlfriends. and, inevitably developing a huge crush on one of his friends, matías.

you knew matías. you knew him very well since he started to stick around in your house, always getting second glances and sneaky smiles until you two really got closer. he would be all day on your business, using your brothers as an excuse to come to your house and talk to you. matías had a knack for finding reasons to be around. whether it was helping enzo fix something, teaching you how to skate (which was his idea), or just "passing by" to chat and drink some mate, he always found a way. and you couldn't help but notice the way he'd linger a little longer each time. your initial conversations were casual, filled with shy laughter and plots against your brother, but it didn't take long for the undertones of something more to emerge. enzo, occupied with his own life, didn't notice the subtle shift in dynamics between you and his friend.

since you two started to hook up, boundaries have been established. you were a virgin, and to the moment it all began, you weren’t willing to hand the privilege of having you on a plate to any guy. matías respected it, of course, he always had been careful to not cross lines or make you uncomfortable, always stopping when you felt it was too much or when you showed just a slightly uncertainty. but lately, ever since the last make-out session, things have been kinda different. your mind keeps going back to sex. with him. constantly.

besides, after all this time with matías, you never felt more sure, more confident, and there's no doubt he's the one you'd wanna cross that line with.

thats why it was getting hard to hide how just sitting next to him made you nervous and eager, shaking your legs nonstop, what would always catch matías attention, and discreetly he would put his knee close to yours or just get a bit closer. but this time, almost like he could read your thoughts, he was somehow bolder, putting his hand on your thigh. 

your breathing hitched when you felt his cold fingers caressing your bare skin, automatically putting you on alert. shame on you for putting your tiniest short.

you tried to ignore how much it affected you, trying not to attract the attention of your brother or agustin, who were sitting on the other sofa across the room playing some game on tv, but controlling your sighs became increasingly difficult as matías' restless hand began to explore the inner part of your thigh a little more, slowly going down and up, in total provocation. just act cool, you said to yourself, continuing to scroll on your phone, as if you didn't even care. but his plan was to make things harder for you, a perverse challenge. his fingers were dangerously close to your shorts hem, tangling in the fabric and then returning to your skin, drawing small circles.

matías was loving every second of it, you could see the mischievous smirk on his lips. son of a bitch. you couldn't deny you liked it, the cold touch of his skin against yours making you hotter, like an anticipation, making you want more. you finally mustered the courage to speak, your voice a mere whisper to avoid attracting attention.

"matías, stop this. they are right there," you warned, trying to convey a sense of urgency through your hushed words.

not that the thing between yall was forbidden, but you both understood the potential repercussions it could have on the dynamic within the group. and you didn’t know how enzo would handle this, so for the better, matías and you chose to keep it on the low. besides, the risky feeling was addicting and the situationship was not that serious. you didn’t even had sex, if you consider fingering and blowjobs apart of it.

he leaned in, his lips close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "why stop when it's so much fun?" he replied, his warm breath against your skin causing a flutter in your stomach.

that 's it. you would lose your mind. you took a deep sigh, giving him an annoyed side eye while crossing your legs, getting away from his hand. deep down, you loved it. he knew how this kind of thing affected you, he knew how you almost had no experience and how any slightest teasing made you feel.

matías laughed quietly, suddenly interested in the tv when agustin turned around, looking between you. agustin had an idea of what was going on, he wasn't stupid, he knew exactly how to annoy you with it, but he only squinted his eyes in your direction.

“you good there?” your best friend asked, with a smirk on his lips. you gulped, knowing exactly what he was doing. “you look kind of…red.” 

“yeah, i’m fine.” you coughed nervously, running a hand through your hair while discreetly flashing your middle finger at the older man. enzo turned to look at you, with a frown. “just hot. its very hot in here, right? you know what, i'm gonna make us a drink!”

you stood up from the sofa with a forced, cynical smile on your face and adjusted your shorts, pulling them down a little as your eyes burned into matías, who had his hand clenched into a fist over his mouth, hiding his smile. he raised his eyes to meet yours and gave you a slight wink. the devil in disguise.

you rushed your way to the kitchen, leaning on the sink and enjoying the feel of the cold marble against your abdomen, taking a deep breath and trying to go back to a time when you weren't being completely controlled by your hormones.

“actually, the boys have just texted me. esteban and fran are already around, we're going to get some beers.” you heard enzo from the living room. 

“i'm coming with you” agustin's voice echoed in response. 

great. you heard the keys jangling, and then the door closing. no sign of matías or his voice. maybe he'd given up that little game and joined the boys. you could take a cold shower until they got back and forget how much you were craving his fingers, a little further down your shorts.

you then decided to prepare your lemonade, silently picking through the things in the kitchen. as you focused on preparing the drink, the rhythmic sound of the juicer drowned out the lingering thoughts of matías's teasing. or you tried to. 

“why are you escaping from me?” caught off guard by matías's sudden presence, you turned around to find him standing there, his voice unexpectedly filling the air. “did i do something wrong?”

your heart skipped a beat. matías was standing there, a playful glint in his eyes and a mischievous smile playing on his lips again. now that you two were alone, you wanted to jump on him, but decided to go ahead with that silly little game.

you rolled your eyes, attempting to sound nonchalant, "i just wanted a lemonade. and for the record, i wasn't trying to escape from anything."

“uhum” he nodded, getting closer to you as you poured the juice on two cups. he caught a slice of lemon from the counter and sucked it, casually, watching you carefully. “so, can i kiss you now?”

you tried to maintain your composure, suppressing the urge to smile as you handed matías a cup of lemonade. his casual demeanor and teasing antics were both infuriating and exhilarating.

rolling your eyes, you replied, "smooth, matías. real smooth. you know it's not that easy."

“no?” he said, an almost innocent expression on his face. you wanted to ruin it. 

matías put one of his arms on the counter, making you lean your back against it. the boy took a sip of the juice and then left it under the counter, taking advantage of his movement to get even closer. his body pressed against yours. 

“no” you replied, hiding your smile in your cup, taking a sip while looking into his eyes. 

his hands went to your waist, holding it gently. then, his nose trailed a way into your neck, making you turn on in the very same instant. you knew you couldn’t resist it for very long. his lips quickly replaced his nose, slowly kissing the sensitive skin of your throat, causing a ragged breath to escape your mouth. when he heard the glass being placed on the counter, matías smiled against your skin, knowing that he had already won.

“you smell so good” the boy whispered, kissing his way up to your jaw. his voice reverberating through your whole body, reaching an exact point.

your arms quickly wrapped around the back of his neck and he laughed, pulling away just enough to look at your face, finding your eyes already heavy and hazy.

“you still don't want to kiss me?” matías teased, biting his lower lip, making no effort to hold back a smile.

“shut up, recalt” you exclaimed, drawing a laugh from both of you before hungrily attacked his soft lips, feeling the citric taste on his tongue. 

it wasn’t a regular kiss, you could feel it with the way things escalated very quickly. you knew what could happen. it seemed like just having his lips against yours wasn’t enough. the proximity of your bodies wasn’t enough. in a hurry, matías bent down, slipping his hands behind your thighs and pulling your body up, placing you on the counter. immediately, your hands went down to the collar of the boy's shirt and your legs encircled his waist, pulling him even closer to you. 

slowly, matías' tongue rubbed against yours, eliciting such a sweet, spontaneous sound from you that the boy felt his whole body tense up, increasing his desire even more. when you realized the effect you had on him, you wasted no time in devoting your attention to the older boy's neck. with your heavy breathing meeting his sensitive skin, you left small bites and marks to be admired later. the grip of matías' hands on your waist intensified as your bodies sought each other out, initiating a movement of disjointed friction.  

"fuck, you're going to drive me fucking insane" his husky voice sounded so weak that it was impossible not to smile against his skin, satisfied.

as if to prove his point, matías pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, pressing the inside of your thigh against his crotch. a sigh escaped your lips as you felt how hard he was, making your abdomen cool and warm at the same time. taking advantage of the cue, your hands slowly made their way down the boy's chest, scratching him over his shirt until they reached the waistband of his shorts. you felt matías' throat rise and fall heavily against your lips, and just as you were about to touch him, he pulled away, leaving you confused.

"did i do something wrong?" your voice came out breathless, in a worried tone. you stared at the boy, his lips swollen and red, his gaze fixed on you, as if determined. "mati...i..."

"shh" he whispered, drawing back, placing his index finger between your lips. matías let out a small laugh and bit your chin, moving down your neck in return for what you had done earlier. "it's my turn now, huh? i need to return some old favors."

your eyes roll with the intoxicating sensation of feeling him descend his mouth to your collarbone, licking and sliding down to your shoulders. your tank top is taken off so quickly that you have no time to process what happens when he returns his kisses to your skin, rubbing his nose down the middle of your breasts, sucking on the part just above the fabric of your bra. you gasp softly, directing one of his hands through your hair and the other to your shoulder. he licks just below your ribcage and then traces a path to the button of your shorts. you open your eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to take in what's happening as he opens the button and slips his hand inside the shorts, feeling how damp it was under the thin fabric of the panties.

"fuck," he mutters, gasping as he stares at you over his eyelashes. 

you feel your cheeks burn and matías now seems completely deluded at the feel of you, his index and ring finger slowly stroking the wet, still covered length. "all that for me?" 

your hand squeezes the boy's shoulder in reflex, and you nod, unable to formulate a sentence. your mind is too cloudy and light to think of anything else. 

he hisses a "may i?", coming face to face with you again. with your voice weak, you manage to agree with a feeble "uh huh" and then matías pulls the elastic of your panties aside, brushing your lips with his two fingers as he reaches your entrance.

a sultry moan echoes through the kitchen as he slowly moves his fingers inside you, and without daring to breathe, the two of you stare at each other. matías' mouth is slightly open, watching you intently, carefully discovering the exact points that make you shudder. he curves his fingers a little and your back arches, your breasts meeting the boy's chest, and just that small sensation of friction makes your body tremble.

"matías" you whisper softly, digging your nails into the skin of the boy's back under the t-shirt as he keeps working his fingers deeper into you, his thumb now gently circling your clit. 

you can almost see stars as the warm, liquid sensation grows in your womb. your legs start to tremble as he starts to speed up his pace and there you know it's not enough, you want more of this, of that sensation, of his closeness.

you finally feel ready and there's no one else who you would want to do that for you other than matías, who understands you and your desires so well. 

"i need you" you whisper again, your body falling back a little, weakly. matías seems too focused, his eyes fixed on your lips that pull in air with difficulty. "matías"

"i know, i know," he replies, as lost as you are. another moan, this time a little louder, escapes him as he pushes his fingers upwards. 

"inside me, mati. i need you inside me" your confession seems to be enough fuel for the sensation at the base of your stomach to explode.

matías looked at you, somehow surprised and amused, working with his fingers inside even harder. something seizes your body for a few seconds, making you dizzy and breathless, clenching against matías' hand inside you. 

the boy moaned as his body shuddered along with yours, the mark on the denim fabric of his shorts getting bigger and bigger.

"yeah? you sure, linda?" matías questioned, eager. his eyes met yours once more, and you nodded with assurance. “we don’t have to rush just because…you know, i want you to have a good time, princesa.”

“i'm having a perfect time” you laughed, softly, wicked. honestly, it was comforting to see how he much cared. the insecurities about anything related to this no longer existed in your mind. “i’m sure, amor”

your lips crashed into matías' again, now a little slower, sweeter and softer as he withdrew his fingers from you, making the empty sensation ache and tighten your muscles. matías broke the kiss only to lick his own fingers, drying all the honey from his hand with delight, making you think the most inappropriate things possible.

you kissed him again, now feeling your taste mixed with the boy's saliva, a completely depraved sensation.

"let's go upstairs," you ordered against the boy's lips, who didn't hesitate for a second to lift you off the counter and carry you up the stairs to your bedroom, a familiar spot to him.

once you have entered the room, matías gently sits you on your bed, his attitude a little calmer and more patient now. hot and sweaty, you remove your shorts and panties at once, while the boy stares at you. matías runs a hand through his hair and sighs at the sight as you slowly take off your bra, revealing your breasts to the boy, who looks at you from head to toes with devotion.

you reach into the bedside drawer, grabbing a condom from under your clean panties, prepared for a moment like this. it was almost unbelievable, but it was happening.

"sit down" you ask, patting your hand on the side of the bed.

he looks serious now, but doesn't contest it, following your request.

swallowing dryly, hoping to get it right, you stand up, unbuttoning matías' shorts and pulling them over his boxers. 

"they'll be back any minute," you warn, not wanting to waste a single minute.

even with all the little you've learned throughout your life, you nervously approach the boy once again, opening the laminated package. your hands shake a little with adrenaline, but soon matías helps you, cautiously coating his member with the condom.

carefully, you cross your legs over matías' lap, both of you gasping at the friction that your sensitive core exposed against his bare skin causes.

your hands drag the fabric of the boy's shirt upwards, pulling it over his neck. when the collar passes over his head, messing up his hair, you both giggle, the atmosphere of the intimate and intense moment hanging over you.

"hi" matías murmurs, affectionately, as he admires your face. his hand runs from your waist and reaches the back of your neck, stroking your hair.

"hi," you reply as well, still with a little breathy giggle. the two of you take a moment to appreciate each other, contemplating the sensations that come with it. "is it okay if i stay on top of you? am i not hurting you?" 

"no, not at all. don't worry," matías laughed, pressing his lips to your temple in a tender kiss.

your chest was about to explode with the force of your heart beating against your ribs, a warm, euphoric feeling coursing through your body. matías smiled, sharing the same satisfaction, unable to believe his luck. your gazes intertwined, revealing the vulnerability and anxiety that hung in the air. the atmosphere between the two of you became electric, and the tension was palpable, even though you felt pleasantly calm. 

slowly, you leaned on matías' shoulders, and with his help, positioned yourself right above his member, which was throbbing at your entrance. a long, broken sigh came from both of your lips, taking in the new sensation. this was the moment that would share a before and after, that all intimacy and vulnerability would consume you completely. 

matías lifted his hips slowly and eagerly, slowly fitting himself inside you. you could feel the intangible connection being established as he moaned your name, entering your pussy. your forehead rested on the boy's shoulder, and between gasps and moans, both of you began to move against each other. your thighs instinctively locked against matías', helping you to roll onto his cock. 

"fuck. oh fuck." you moaned, while matías' hand was still in your hair, stroking and pulling. the boy's free arm wrapped tightly around your waist, helping you to balance and move on top of him.

"is everything all right?" he asked, his husky voice sounding distant but so close. his mouth brushed against the edge of your ear, sending a shiver down the back of your spine.

"yeah. it's great." the pain at first was a little overwhelming, feeling him enter you fully as your walls squeezed him, but it soon diminished, being almost completely replaced by pleasure. it was good, delicious and calm. 

you moved your face away from his shoulder to look directly at him now, being able to carefully watch every change in matías' expression, while he did exactly the same. your faces contorted into mirror-like revelations of pleasure, the moans repeated in unison as your bodies moved in harmony. 

“like this, yeah, bebé” matías murmured, his hand palmed at the end of your back, holding as you rocked into him, whimpering. “god, you feel amazing. so fucking tight.”

he sounded absolutely wrecked, lost in the pleasure, combusting with the way your body went up and down above him, bouncing on his dick. you couldn't help it, you were moaning –  groaning, to be more truthful. asking for more, begging shamelessly. 

“that noise…keep doing it, you're being so good. such a good girl, right?” matías kept talking you through it, until he shared his attention with your boobs, sucking and licking your nipples. you buckled your hips with the feeling, so emerged on the way his tongue worked around your areola, throwing your head back. lost, just like him.

then, as the movements began to intensify, faster and faster and your hips more skillful, matías began to fuck you as he had been kissing you before. hungry, torpid and willing to satisfy you. his hands went down to the curve of your ass, pulling your body more and more impossibly onto his dick, your skin like dough in his hands, molding it the way he wanted it. the sounds of your body against his along with the breathing and cursing were totally obscene, becoming an impulse for you to seek more of it.

the stars in your eyes seemed to come close again as the sweat ran down your back, feeling complete with matías inside you. filled. it was an unforgettable and incomparable sensation. you knew you would become addicted.

“i never felt anything like this before, never” you heard matías say. your hands went up to his cheeks and hair, holding his face as you rode him nonstop. a smile stamped your face, reflecting his. “say you want me, and i’m yours” 

your stomach dropped, the feeling on your womb deepened. his tired voice saying things like this to you was so good to hear as the way he was fucking you. the cold current seized your abdomen again, as if warning you that you were close to cumming, and you could barely put the words together.

“don’t say that, matías. don’t play with me” you responded, looking into his eyes. 

matías was absorbed with pleasure but surely not saying things without meaning it. he shook his head negatively, thrusting more slowly against your hip now, making your eyes roll so hard they hurt.

“i’m being honest. say the word.” he sounded so serious, so close to your lips, so deep into you.

matías was slowly guiding your pleasure to a point where it was almost impossible to hold back an orgasm. then, you allowed yourself to let the sensation consume you once again, this time more intensely, your fingers twitched and your mind went into an almost unconscious state, eliciting a guttural moan from you. you felt the warm liquid drip from your womb and soak matías, it was almost like floating.

“i want you. god, how i want you” you exclaimed tenderly between ragged breaths, while the boy was still searching for that same sensation that you had just reached inside you.

it was enough for matías to completely collapse inside you, mumbling dumb your name. you felt his hot, sweaty body shudder beneath yours, relaxing completely little by little until he could open his eyes again. a feeling of satisfaction ran through your body, and you honestly had no idea if it was just from the dopamine of the orgasm or knowing that matías had been your first. and his arms were still there, wrapped around you while an affectionate gaze , while he admired you, all of you. the sweat going down your forehead, your smile, the weight of your body above him. everything, matías appreciated every second. you kissed him, a lazy and sloppy kiss, just enjoying that high together, and then a silly thought crossed your mind.

"i guess my brother was right to keep me away from the boys," you murmured, panting and giggling against his lips.

"who knew i would be the one," matías laughed too, biting your lip. "the lucky one for taking your virginity."

a slap on the arm caught him by surprise, and you feigned false offense, pretending to be completely innocent. but the calm didn't last long. five minutes of trying to get back to normal and you heard the keys in the door, the boys' voices, and footsteps inside. you were screwed, literally. you didn't even have time to dwell on the absence of aftercare.

"shit, shit, shit," you exclaimed in exasperation, getting up from on top of the boy, who quickly removed the condom, tossing it into the trash bin in the corner.

both of you nervously laughed, enjoying the situation as you tried to readjust. you tied your hair into a messy bun and then quickly tamed matías' strands. you were sweaty and red like two runners, anyone could tell by the little smiles on your faces.

"we'll still having talk about that," matías referred to the moment earlier, approaching and giving you a kiss, longer and deeper than it should be. but still, in a failed attempt to disguise it, you agreed, laughing, and pushed him out of the room.

and then, reality struck. your tank top. on the kitchen floor, damn.

you dressed in the first shirt you saw, probably a mistake, and went downstairs, walking as calmly and unbothered as possible. luckily, the boys were still in the living room while matías engaged in a seemingly casual conversation with them as if he didn't just came inside you. you suppressed the smile that came when you remembered the feeling of being on top of him just minutes ago, biting your lips, and entered the kitchen, finding agustin with a beer pack in one hand and your tank top in the other.

you froze right at the door, feeling the color drain from your face completely. and then, he looked in your direction, aware of your presence. he assessed your expression, your sudden change of clothes, and all the other little details. his gaze shifted over your shoulders to matías in the living room, and then, agustin laughed – no, he actually burst into laughter. laughed so hard that he had to lean against the fridge seeing your shocked state. you had been caught.

━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━

yeah. i'm shocked too.

i had so much fun - hornyness - writing this. thank you so much for the ask!! i really tried to follow your idea, just changed the phrase a litlle bit. i hope i made justice to your need ;)

again, if you have a request for the lsdln boys just please send me a ask!!

sorry for any spelling mistake :p