#''but charles you can add-'' STOP THAT SENTENCE RIGHT NOW

[dimestoretajic]

*begins to work on a Shadowfax deck*

... more horses plz wotc

my children are dying

[verstappen-cult]

Hi, love your writing so much ❤️❤️

So I have a request could you maybe write something about Charles reacting to his girlfriend having an allergic reaction? Like she accidentally eats something (I'm allergic to apples) and he freaked out

“Honey, I’m home!” Charles says, making you giggle and jump off the couch. He’s carrying two bags from your favorite restaurant while his gym bag is in his other hand, but that doesn’t stop you from hugging him and peppering his face with kisses.

“I missed you so much,” You say with a last kiss to his lips. “and I’m starving.”

Charles gives you the bags while he takes off his shoes. “I bought two pieces of that carrot cake you like so much.”

Before you even look at what else is in the bags, you take the dessert out, grabbing a fork in the process. Charles joins you in the kitchen, stealing the first bite of the cake from you.

“I don’t know why you like it so much, it’s gross.” He complains at which you roll your eyes, finally tasting the delicious and sweet cake.

After the second bite you can taste something different, something that’s not been there all the other times you’ve had it. However, you don't think too much about it and keep eating.

“Did you ask them to add something?” You ask after half of the cake has disappeared.

“No?” He answers, mouth full of pasta. “Oh! They said they’re trying a new recipe and has—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, Charles just snatches the plate out of your hands, causing it to fall onto the floor, making a mess.

“Charles, that’s very rude!”

“I’m so sorry, baby. We need to go to the hospital.” He grabs your hand, rushing to the front door as you look confused at him, not understanding why he’s acting like that all of a sudden.

“Char, what’s happening!”

“You need to lie on your back, I’m gonna call the—”

It takes you a moment to finally understand.

That strange taste in your mouth, why the cake wasn’t like any of the other ones you’ve had before.

Sighing, you squeeze your boyfriend’s hand, forcing him to turn around and stop for a second.

“Baby, I’ll be fine.” But Charles looks like he’s about to throw up, probably feeling so guilty. “I just need my EpiPen, can you get it for me?”

“No! We need to—”

You cup his face, looking straight into his green eyes. “Charlie, you need to calm down or I’m seriously gonna slap you in the face. Now, can you get my EpiPen? It is on my nightst—”

You haven’t finished talking but he’s already sprinting up the stairs, tripping over his own feet. There’s a big commotion upstairs, things falling and Charles cursing as he searches for the medicine you need right now.

You slowly make your way to the couch, breathing in and out, when you hear Charles footsteps approaching.

He hands you the EpiPen and you smile up at him before taking it in your hands, taking your sweatpants off enough to push it against your thigh.

Charles looks away, making a strange sound. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers, looking like a kicked puppy in the middle of the road.

“It’s okay, Char.”

“No, it’s not! I’m gonna sue them,” He starts pacing around the living room, pulling on his hair. “how dare they do this! You could die.”

“I’m not going to die.” You laugh, rubbing the area around the injection for a few seconds. “You need to calm down because this isn’t helping me.”

His expression relaxes, and he sits next to you, grabbing your free hand. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

“It’s not your fault, Charles. These things happen and they’ve been happening to me all my life.” You rub his palm, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how many times this has happened since we’ve been dating, but you still freak out.” He laughs, closing his eyes and finally, finally, relaxing against you. “It’s cute.”

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I’m allergic to three different things, baby. You need to get used to it.”

[multi-fandoms-posts]

The Power of Thoughts

It is a quiet evening. Most of the students have retreated to their rooms, and the hallways are bathed in a soft, golden light. Y/N sits on the large leather sofa in the school's living room, a book in hand. She reads, but her thoughts keep drifting away. Charles is in his office, busy with some work that has piqued her curiosity, but she doesn’t want to disturb him. After all, he has his duties as the head of the school.

But Charles isn’t as busy as Y/N thinks. He is sitting relaxed in his chair in his office, eyes closed, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He knows exactly where Y/N is and what she is doing. His thoughts drift to her, he senses her presence, her calmness, and even her slight distraction. He decides to have a little fun.

Y/N is just turning a page when suddenly, an image flashes before her mind's eye. She frowns, as it’s not part of the book she’s reading. Instead, she sees herself in a bedroom, and she’s not alone. Charles is there with her, standing close, his hands resting gently on her hips.

Y/N blinks in confusion and looks around, but she’s still in the living room. What was that? She shakes her head and tries to focus back on her book.

But barely has she read the next sentence when the image appears again, even clearer this time. She feels Charles' hands glide over her back, his lips moving closer to hers. A shiver runs down her spine, and she can almost feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.

“Charles?” she murmurs quietly, even though she knows he isn’t in the room. A suspicion crosses her mind, and she closes the book. “Are you doing this?” she asks aloud, though no one is there.

She hears a soft laugh in her head, a familiar, warm laugh she recognizes instantly. “What do you think, Y/N?” Charles' voice responds in her thoughts. His words are playful, almost teasing.

“Charles!” she exclaims in surprise, her cheeks starting to blush. “That’s not fair!” she says.

“Why not?” he asks, amused. “You seem to be enjoying it,” he adds.

Y/N tries to come up with a witty response, but before she can say anything, the next image appears in her mind. This time, they’re both lying on the bed, Charles' body close to hers, his hands slowly and seductively exploring her. She feels the warmth of his body, the gentle pressure of his lips on her skin.

Y/N swallows hard, her breathing quickening. She knows that this is all happening only in her mind, but it feels so real. “Charles, stop it,” she protests, but her voice trembles slightly. She can’t deny that it entices her, that it arouses her senses.

“Are you sure you want me to stop?” he asks softly, as the images in her head become even more intense. She sees herself stripping off his clothes, her hands gliding over his muscular chest, as he silences her with a deep kiss.

“Charles,” she whispers, her eyes closing as she feels the heat rising within her. “This is unfair,” she repeats, but this time her voice is barely audible, more a sigh than a real protest.

“I enjoy seeing you like this, Y/N,” he admits as he intensifies the images in her mind. His telepathic connection makes her feel everything so intensely, as if it were really happening. “You’re beautiful when you’re so aroused,” he says quietly.

Y/N feels her self-control slipping away. The images, the sensations, everything overwhelms her, and she can’t help but give in to them. “You know you’re driving me crazy, right?” she whispers, her voice full of desire.

“That’s exactly the point,” Charles responds, his voice now deeper, full of seduction. “I want to drive you crazy, Y/N. I want you to think of nothing but us, of this moment,” he says.

She bites her lip, trying to gather her thoughts, but she can’t. “You’re incredible,” she finally murmurs, sinking into the cushions of the sofa, overwhelmed by the intense feelings Charles is stirring within her.

Suddenly, she feels the mental connection weaken, the images fading. “Charles?” she asks, confused. She opens her eyes as she hears footsteps behind her.

Charles is suddenly standing before her in the room, a smile on his lips. “I thought I’d come by in person to finish what we started,” he says softly, his voice sending another shiver over her skin.

Y/N looks at him, her eyes full of desire that no longer exists only in her mind. She stands up, walks toward him, and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re impossible,” she says, but her words are gentle and loving.

“But you love me anyway,” Charles replies, pulling her gently into his arms. Their lips meet in a deep, passionate kiss, and this time it’s no thought, no image, but reality that envelops them both.

Y/N surrenders to him completely, her hands running through his hair, their bodies merging into one. “Yes,” she whispers between kisses, “I do.”

Charles smiles against her lips before kissing her again, this time even more intensely, as if he wants to make all the images he planted in her mind come true. The world around them blurs, and there’s nothing but the two of them, caught in a moment of pure passion and love.

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Absolutely you should add smut were all whores here

"Hooked"

Sorry been really busy and I am still very busy and ai hate it so much cause I don't have the energy to write anymore after a shit ton of work and sleepless nights just to meet the deadline. Anyways, I will try to do the requests, enjoy ✌️

Hope you lot understand, sorry. 😔

Warning: smut (you already know)

Idk what is in here cause I didn't proof read, hope the wait was worth it tho? Don't come at me, I just wanted to get a fic out cause I've been dry the last few weeks. Enjoy ✌️

I always noticed Arthur's brother, Charles, would always stare at me when he gets the chance, especially when visiting tutur at the f2 paddock. He wasn't really like this back then, but then again, I had a massive glow up, my ass is big, hair fluffy, face of an angel, and body sculpted by the Gods to be perfect for any man. During our earlier days, Charles never reqlly paid me any attention, apart from the occasional hi and hello, nothing. He would just walk past without even a glance. But now, it seemed that every chance he got, he would stare at me and sometimes bite his bottom lip and give me those "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you beg me to stop" eyes.

Like right now, I feel a pair of eyes burning through the back of my head as I walked with Arthur to the ferrari hospitality. Without looking back I already knew who it is, and being the brat I am, I decided to be a little shit and put on a show. Accidentally dropping my wallet as I pulled it out of the pocket of my jeans that hugs my ass way too tight. Making sure I bend over more than required to get the wallet, and continue walking as if nothing happened.

—

After Arthur won his first race of the season, I couldn't contain my excitement, I jumped on him my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck and giving him little kisses on his cheeks.

"Oh my god, I'm so proud of you tutur."

I basically shouted at him so he could hear me over the noise of his team celebrating.

"Merci, couldn't done it without you flaunting your ass at my brother the whole day."

He said with a laugh as he urged me to get off him. He looked behind me and smacked my ass and laughing harder as I let out a small squeak.

"Looks like someone wants to celebrate with you."

He said close to my ear as he turned me around only to be met by Charles gaze that had a glint of something. I looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"Hi."

I said as I turned back around.

"I will spoon feed you your own shit."

I said to Arthur, trying to sound menacing but he just laughed.

"Arturooo!"

Charles said as he hugged Arthur.

"Can I borrow y/n for a moment?"

"Hehe just return him before the party."

"Of course."

"Huh? D-don't I get a say in this??"

I asked confused as Arthur just laughed as Charles dragged me somewhere.

"W-where are we going? And what exactly d-do you need me for?"

I asked nervously as his gripped tightened.

"I had a shitty race unlike Arthur, and I need you to help me with it."

He said nonchalantly as we arrived at his motor home, he pushed me in before getting in himself, he locked the door.

"A-and h-how wou-"

I couldn't finish my sentence as he pulled me to him and attached his lips to mine, kissing desperately as if it was his last day on earth. He pushed me against the door his hands tapped my thighs, urging me to jump. I obeyed and jumped, his strong arms holding me up as my legs wrapped around his waist and my hands that were feelings his biceps now pulling at his hair and clawing on his back, drawing groans from him. Biting and licking my bottom lip his gripped tightened on my thighs causing me to moan against his lips. His tounge entering my mouth with no warning, our tounges now dancing a ballad of groans and moans. Our kiss getting more desperate and sloppy by the second due to the lack of oxygen catching up to us. We pulled from each other, foreheads resting against the other and thin string of saliva attaching our lips.

"Let's go to my hotel room, it's better."

He said between heavy breathed as he put me down, but I leaned on him heavily almost falling as my legs seemingly turn to jelly.

"I didn't know you liked me?"

I asked surprised.

"You're the only outlet available."

He said with a laugh.

"But you might just be the best one yet."

—

As we arrived in his hotel room, he locked the door and put the do not disturb sign on the outside knob.

"What n-"

He attacked my lips again before I could finish my sentence.

"Now, you're going to be a good boy and listen and do everything I tell you."

He said as he pulled back, his hands on my cheeks.

"O-okay."

"Good, now get on the bed and undress for me."

I obeyed, getting on the bed and undressing 'til I'm naked.

"You were always my favourite, y/n."

"Huh?"

"Among all of Arthur's friends, you were always my favourite, did you know that?"

He asked as he got on top of me now only in his boxers. He body looked heavenly, his abs, his biceps, everything made me want to go feral. To lick his muscles after a gym session or after racing, to taste the saltiness of his sweat against tounge. To see him breathing heavily as he looks at me with tired eyes, to hear him say my name in a breathy whisper.

My thoughts got cut off by his mouth on my neck, kissing, biting and licking, leaving marks.

"I always thought you'd taste good. Addicting."

He mumbled against my neck, as his actions became rougher I began to squirm, trying to push him off, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

"Ngh~ mhmmm~ no, s-stop. Please."

"I would stop, amour, but your moans decieve you. Do you really want me to stop?"

He asked as he began to pull away but not before biting hard.

"Mmm~ ngha n-no."

I said as my squirming slowed down, missing his mouth on my neck, missing his bites I pulled at his neck.

"You can try all you want, you won't win, y/n."

He said is a breathy voice as he continued to resist my pull.

"I'm going to fuck you raw, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He whisper against my ear as he bit it.

"Y-yes."

"Good boy."

He began to remove his boxers, I looked down excited to see what I would need to fit in. My eyes widened and I let out an involuntary moan as I saw his size. Very thick, with prominent veins and atleast 9 inches.

"Y-you're gonna kill me."

I said, now afraid of what would happen once the behemoth is burried in me.

"You can take it, and you will."

He said with a laugh as he spread my legs even more and grabbing the lube from the bedside drawer. He covered his fingers with the lube and putting one in me slowly, drawing moans from me. A second one went in and he started scissoring, the burning sensation slowly disappearing as he put in a third.

"Please, n-need you."

I said sounding desperate with my eyes closed and biting my lip.

"Are you sure?"

He asked sounding worried.

"Y-yes, f-fuck me, please."

I said as I began to squirm.

"Fine."

He covered his cock in obscene amounts of lube, hopefully enough. He got on top of me as he lined his cock with my hole, the head slowly going him, the burning, stretching sensation coming back worse. My hands fly to his back, pulling him to lay on me and clawing at him. He groaned as he felt the pain on his back and he slowly went deeper, we were both our of breathe now and he wasn't even half in.

"F-fuck, my self controll is not that strong, I'm seconds away from just fuck, just slamming into you."

He said against my ear, hot breathes fanning over.

"I-i-i don't m-mmmind."

I said with a chuckled as my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in further.

"You m-make me lose myself. Fuck"

He slammed into me without any more warning, I scream at the top of my lungs. He groaned as my clawing got more erratic, I felt something sticky on my fingers as I continued clawing. His groans became more frequent as he pulled back slowly and ramming back in.

"F-fuck, ngha."

He groaned as he bit my neck hard, leaving bite marks.

"P-please, f-fuck."

I couldn't finish a sentence nor a single thought as my mind short malfunctioned. Tears flowed freely from my eyes and he stayed still for a bit, catching his breath.

"You okay?"

He whispered in my ear.

"Mmmngh"

"I'll say, you're fine then."

He said with a laugh as he started to pull out, and go back in slowly. Slowly gaining more force and speed until he was just ramming into me, the bed squeaking after every thrust. He head burried in my neck, biting and leaving my, his hands exploring the sides of my body. My hands still clawing at his back, earning a groawn each time. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"I don't w-we can make it f-for Arthur's p-party."

He said with a breathy chuckle as his assault on my ass did not ease a bit.

"Mmngg mmm ngh"

I could not form coherent words or anything, my mind completely blank apart from him, the feeling of him, the taste of him every about him. My body is tired, but he doesn't seem the least bit tired.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum."

He groans as his pace became more erratic, sweat dropping from his hair onto the sheets as he bit my neck, earning a moan from me. Our bodies sliding past the other. His hair sticking to his forehead, his back now slippery, my hands slide down, struggling to hold on. He let out small hisses of pain, due to the sweat coming in contact with the marks on his back.

"F-fuuuck"

He came deep inside me, burrying his face on my neck and biting roughly, with the last amount of energy I had left, my body began squirming trying to push him away, but he was much stronger he held my hands down and grinded his him against my, drawing out the pleasure. I felt his cum dripping out of my hole while he's still inside. By this time I already came more than 4 times, the feel of his cock pulsing inside me brought me unfathomable amounts of pleasure, knowing I'm the one he's with the one he's fucking.

"We need to do this again."

"Mmm"

"You do know, when I said again, I mean right now, right?"

He said with a laugh as his cock stayed hard inside me, after a few seconds he began to move again. Starting slow, my mind numb and body tired I couldn't do anything but let him, as he continued biting and licking my neck, my hand going up to his hair and stroking it.

"Y-you can say no if you don't want to anymore."

I don't what came over me, but my energy suddenyl came back after his words.

"You won't last as long as me, Leclerc."

I pushed him off me and made him lay on the bed as I began to ride him.

"You can try, but you won't succeed."

I said as I leaned down and made my marks on him.

"We both know, you just want to fuck me, but I'll have you hooked."

Idk what I wrote, cause half of this shit didnt get save so I had to rewrite, hope you enjoyed it ✌️

[bestedoesmeow]

⋆Barmen Charles leclerc x Younger reader⋆

inspired by the summer I had few years ago. Still thankful for the experience, and joy you brought to my life even though we are not really in good terms right now :)

'' One summer your whole system of understanding love changes due to some monegasque barmen that you meet on a holiday that you thought to be just like others.''⋆

PART 1 ( click on the title to listen to the song while reading the story!!)

'' I am just gonna go and get a bottle of water from the bar. Why am I making such a big deal out of it?" You are talking to yourself, while your hands are shaking with the excitement you feel and your blood is rushing crazily through your cheeks. It's hot—unbelievably, amazingly, and almost unbearably hot for someone to even try to walk. But there you are, walking in a rush in your swimsuit and sunglasses, with flushed red cheeks and shaky hands because of the image you have of him in your mind. You are afraid that you are going to forget how to talk when you see him—his pretty green eyes, showy smile showing off his dimples, the almost invisible freckles he has on his nose due to the humidity and salt. Is he 24? Maybe 20? You don't know anything, probably you don't even care though—all you care about is how he makes you feel whenever you see him standing at that bar, preparing drinks for people and sending that shy yet confident smile at the same time whenever someone says "thank you" or "you look handsome." Old ladies, their daughters, and even some gentlemen—everyone there is in awe of how handsome and charming he is. It would be a pity if you weren't. You don't know if you feel jealous that he has too many options or feel happy that you are not alone, with everyone adoring him. While wishfully thinking, you realize you are almost standing in front of the bar, with the sounds of the harsh sea in your ears and some people sitting on the chairs behind you after getting out of the sea to grab something to eat. Lunch? Probably.

"What can I get you?" His French accent echoes in your ears, leaving you even weaker and more vulnerable to any attack. He smiles at you—those dimples, those damn dimples. Those smiling eyes and his welcoming gesture—almost too welcoming that you start to think about telling him everything. Right there, just right there.

"Can I get a bottle of water? It's getting even hotter and I just can't stan—" You stop, wondering why you just couldn't get the water and go. Did you really have to?

"Oh, it's unbelievably hot today," he says. "I can't tell you how many t-shirts I've changed into. It's freaking hot," he adds. You feel the sweat drops on your back flow down by the time he stops speaking. Thanks, thanks for not leaving me there cringing hard at myself. Thanks for talking back about the fucking weather and making it seem like a big issue.

"Why don't you take a seat? I'll make you a Martini. Pink? That'll cool you off for sure."

You try to comprehend the moment, his voice, his offer. You look around to see if he has anyone other than you to talk to, but it seems like you are alone.

"You aren't underage, are you?" he says this time. It is the fourth time he has spoken, but there is something in your throat that controls you, and you just can't come up with words. You take a seat, and your bikini drips some water.

"I am wet, like, so much that I probably shouldn't sit, so I'll only get the water, thank y—"

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence, as if he is just as excited to talk with you. At least you wish he is.

"Oh, come on, do you think people who come here to drink are all suited up? Don't worry, I'll take care of it after. Martini?" His French accent is even more visible now, and he is raising an eyebrow at you. Is he being flirty or just being nice? Or is he always like this?

"Yeah, okay," you say, trying not to sound so unsure, excited, or like a teenager who has a crush on an older guy who seems like a Greek god or a prince?

He nods and looks into your eyes before acting to prepare your drink, while you pick at the sides of your nails.

"What is your name?" he asks suddenly, and you are not expecting it. It's too much for you to handle, and your heart is almost about to stop with all the affection from the guy. You are determined not to show it, though.

"Oh, it's Y/N."

"That's a nice name. Mine is Charles, nothing special, you know," he says while pouring your drink with almost shaky hands. Is he okay? Or too shy? Or are they forcing him to make connections with people?

"I love your name. I mean, I love the name 'Charles,' sounds magical, maybe?" His lips are curled into a wide smile, while little sweat drops are determined to fall from his forehead.

"You think so?"

"Yes, it's a great name. You should realize it too," you say this time before taking a sip from the Martini he just prepared for you—with his own, freaking beautiful hands.

"How old are you, huh?" he says. He leans his body on the counter, and his gaze is focused on yours. His green eyes wander around your face while you try not to turn your head around because the connection is too much more than you can handle.

"Nineteen."

"That's a nice age. I am 24, and I feel like I am already too old to do lots of things," he says. Finally, he cuts the eye contact to clean some glasses left behind by the people who just thanked him for the delicious drinks.

"Well, that's wrong. You look much younger, though, if it helps," you say. Did you really say that? You can't believe you can just sit there and talk to him—the guy you've been drooling over for almost three days maybe? Is this what magic feels like? Or am I in a dream?

"Thanks, amour. That's so nice of you to say. How long are you planning to stay here? In France?"

"We are leaving this weekend." And I am also leaving you here, with all of my beautiful feelings and all of my dreams.

"That's bad. Have I served your family before? How long have you been staying here?"

"About a week, maybe? Yes, and you have. They like you, to be honest. Your vibe is all over the place."

SHUT UP. TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM, HUH? STOP IT. HE'LL THINK YOU'RE DESPERATE.

"That's so nice to hear such a thing from someone like you. How come you never came to the bar?"

"I did, but it's always too crowded, you know? It's hard to find a place to sit."

"I know, I know," he says, and he turns his head to take another hotel customer's drink order. You take another sip from the Martini before wrapping your towel around your shoulders and pretending to get up from the chair.

"Thanks for the drink, Charles," you say, hoping he can hear you. You wouldn't take it personally if he couldn't, though.

"Nice meeting you, Y/N," he says, leaving the shaker there to say goodbye to you. He left his job to say goodbye to you? What is going on here? Can someone punch or pinch you?

He comes closer to you before handing you a napkin with some numbers written on it.

"Call me before you leave, so we can spend some time together. We can hit the downtown or go anywhere you'd like to see, huh?"

"Yes, of course."

He leaves you there with bouncy heart, sweaty palms, shaky legs, and body. His cologne follows you to your room, along with the dream of him.

[terresdebrume]

Forgot posts with links don't make it in the tags anymore so I'm not gonna add one but as a reminder all those snippets are under Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency on my blog if u wanna check it out

Warning for social homophobia in this one (non graphic, but discussed plainly)

"Can you remember anything else?" Mr. Payne asks for the third time. "Any identifying detail, any notable landscape feature?"

"No," Crystal groans, heroically resisting the urge to tug on the ends of her hair in frustration, "I didn't! I wish I'd seen more but big, dark, and evil is about all I can give you!"

"That's alright," Charles says, putting a hand on Crystal's shoulder as he shoots a look to Mr. Payne. "If you're certain she was in a natural cave that narrows it down quite a bit. There aren't that many around the city, especially to the east."

"Right," says Mr. Payne like the word stings on the way out, "it does also give some direction to our research. If we are going towards the coast, I should spend some time at the library and see about water breathing spells. You should—"

Crystal jumps when the drumroll starts. They've reached the main square again, the fastest point of access to any shop or important building in the city. Only, where it was empty when they came in, now a crowd has gathered so watch some kind of spectacle. Crystal wasn't really paying attention to any announcements when they came through, but if it's a group of performers she wouldn't mind catching a glimpse—but, no, not performers. As soon as she's had the thought, the drumming turns slower, more sinister. She looks up at Charles and Mr. Payne, only to find them frozen in place two feet behind her, frowning towards the center of the plaza.

"What's happening?" She asks, chest constricting with apprehension. "Is something happening?"

The question seems to unstick Charles. Handing his infinite bag over to Mr. Payne, he takes a running start towards the nearest building, then climbs up to its first story window to have a look at the center of attention. He's back down on the ground in a moment, not even looking ruffled. Crystal watches him approach the nearest bystander and exchange a few words with them before he comes back towards them.

From the center of the plaza, Crystal hears a whistle and a crack, followed by a deep, pained groan. Crystal gasps, shocked, and then Mr. Payne has a hand on her elbow, pulling her away from the crowd as Charles jogs to catch up with them.

"Let's see about fitting young Crystal for a suit of armor, shall we? Research can wait for a while."

Crystal has only known Mr. Payne for a little over a week by that point, but it's enough to figure out this is not a sentence he says often, if at all. She'd dispute it, and the way it's clearly designed to take her away from the plaza and the way the whistle and crack keep making a man cry out in pain, but right now she cares more about leaving than she minds Mr. Payne's patronizing attitude.

"What's happening?" She asks anyway, hoping knowing will help stop her imagination from running wild. "Why are they hurting someone?"

"Buggery," Charles says. "Second offence. That's twenty lashes."

Crystal was wrong. Knowing doesn't help: it opens up a pit of dread in her stomach instead, cold lead sinking into her gut as something icy squeezes at it like it's trying to juice her innards. She feels herself shiver, legs unsteady, and finds herself grateful for Mr. Payne's hand on her elbow, the way he tugs her calmly but firmly away from the crowd.

He and Charles have both fallen silent, stirring her off the main streets and into a small alley, from which the shock of metal on metal echoes at regular intervals. They push forward and finds themselves in a small courtyard with a vast water reserve on one side and several horse rings on the opposite wall. In front of her, a tall building with raised iron shutters stands. On the side nearest to the water tank, a tall muscular man with large gray whiskers and a tight headwrap bangs away on a long stick of red hot metal, the noise of his work covering the sounds of pain from outside.

"Good morning master Mick," Charles shouts out over the din. "We are in need of your services!"

The man turns to shove his stick of metal into a barrel of water near at hand, wiping his hand across his forehead. Outside, the crowd gasps, but Crystal refuses to imagine why. Mr. Payne's hand is still at her elbow, Charles' on her shoulder, and the blacksmith's face is kind when he looks down at her.

"Ayup," he says, "what can I do for you?"

[singsweetmelodies]

and finally, my darling:

piarles + soulmates ❤️

digging up another one of my 5-sentence fic prompts from a year ago because i reblogged this post and haven't been able to stop thinking about it, so naturally i had to write something about it <3333

this is... not quite 5 sentences, LOL, but it did make me smile a stupid amount. hope it makes you smile, too ❤️

Charles is busy talking to JJ and Pascale outside the Alpine hospitality when his soulmark - a blue swirl vaguely in the shape of a heart, located just below his collarbone, where Pierre loves to kiss - starts to burn with a gentle heat, like it always does when Pierre is close.

"Are you charming my parents again, my love?" Pierre asks, wrapping his arms around Charles' waist from behind and hooking his chin over Charles' shoulder. "Careful, or they'll never let you leave. Maman has been asking after you for months - I think she loves you more than me. Hi, Maman, Papa," he adds belatedly.

Pascale raises one eyebrow, but she's still smiling, soft and fond. "You can't blame me for asking about the man who my son has pined over for half his life, and you especially can't blame me now that you two have finally found your soulmarks."

"Maman!" Pierre protests, and Charles can't see his face, but he knows he's blushing. "It was only about ten years, and I'm twenty-seven. That's not half."

"Just as long as you don't make us wait another ten before you officially make him part of the family," JJ says, and now Charles is blushing, too. "We've waited a very long time for this, you know."

"Okay," Pierre mumbles in the way he always does when he's flustered and trying to hide it. "Well, Charles was coming to visit me before you distracted him, so I'm going to steal him away now, if you don't mind."

"We don't mind..." Pascale says with a sparkle in her eye that reminds Charles of Pierre before a good prank. "... As long as you throw in a good proposal while you're gone."

"Okay!" Pierre half-yells this time, tightening his grip on Charles' waist. "We're going now, thank you."

"It was lovely catching up with you!" Charles calls over his shoulder as Pierre starts towing him away. "I'll see if I can come visit over the winter."

Then Pierre is pulling him into his driver's room and shutting the door behind them, pressing Charles lightly against the door as soon as it closes. "They're terrible," he grumbles, dropping his head onto Charles' shoulder with a dramatic sigh.

"Must be where you get it from," Charles teases, carding his fingers through Pierre's hair. He takes a quick breath before he adds, "Besides, I don't think it's that terrible. Wanting us to get married."

Pierre lifts his head slowly. "Charles," he says, and there's something in his voice that Charles can't quite place. "We haven't even been soulmates for six months."

"No, we've been soulmates for our whole lives," Charles counters. "We only officially found out this year, but I... well, you weren't the only one who was pining for ten years."

"Oh," Pierre says softly, like he somehow hadn't known. Idiotic, wonderful man - as if they don't fit together perfectly in every possible way.

The next thing Charles knows, Pierre is pushing him up against the door with intention. "You know," he says, pinning Charles in place with his eyes as well as his body, "there is a chapel right here, in Vegas. Say the word, and I will go there with you."

"We are not getting married in the Race to the Altar chapel," Charles says firmly, even as his heart skips at the way Pierre's promise feels. Unconditional.

"But we are getting married?" Pierre checks, his gaze never leaving Charles' face.

"Yes, please," Charles says softly, and Pierre's gaze goes dark, like Charles knew it would.

"Good," Pierre says equally softly, breathlessly, and Charles shivers. That is... definitely one of the perks of having your best friend as your soulmate: knowing exactly how to push each other's buttons.

Pierre ducks his head, and tugs Charles' fireproofs down just enough to press his lips against Charles' soulmark. Charles melts against him, like he always has since that night in Zandvoort when Pierre drank a little too much champagne after his first podium for Alpine and "accidentally" kissed Charles on the mouth instead of on the cheek, and just like that, both of their soulmarks appeared.

"I love you," Charles says breathlessly, and not just because Pierre is kissing his neck exactly the way he likes. He also says it because it's true. It's been true for as long as Charles has understood what love is.

Charles can feel Pierre's smile against his skin. "I love you, too," he replies immediately. "And, Charles?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm so glad it was you all along."

[omiscurls]

Heyhey! I couldn’t find your rules, so idk if this is allowed or not, and if it isn’t feel free to ignore this, but may I request Childe with a reader who has depression? Thank you

tough

a/n: hi!! sorry for that, the rules are added by now, i chose not to describe depression itself, because it looks different on everyone, and you may not relate to what applies to me, but i'm hoping you'll find this enjoyable instead!!

plot: character helping the reader out of a breakdown, or a bad headspace

contains: tartaglia, kaeya

warnings: bad copying mechanisms, low mental place, nothing too serious mentioned

tartaglia

now, he's a man of action less than words, even though he's good with those, too

and to add to that, he's also a very perceptive person - if some negative vibe lingers on you for too long, he'll notice right away

however, relying on his experience, he opts to give you space to figure it out on your own, first, he wouldn't like to be making a huge deal of something that was just a worse couple of days

it's when you don't show up at your usual dinner spot, that he gets a little tingle in his brain, telling him to not dismiss it this time.

and so, he makes his way over to your place.

"ya there?" you hear on the other side of the door, followed by urgent knocking, sort of breaking you out of a trance, but you can't find it in you to go and answer it. he'll go away, you think, even better. your apartment is messy, you're messy, too, and it's not the right time to be receiving visitors. so you stay quiet.

"you do know i know you're in there, right?" he speaks up again "the blinds would be down if you weren't"

come in, you want to shout, and although no voice leaves your throat, soon the door opens anyway.

"hey, what's up, you weren't on the- oh." he stops in his tracks in the middle of the corridor, and you're already mentally prepared to a snarky remark about your sorroundings, but the only thing he says is a lighthearted "why're you sitting on the floor?"

the first thing he thinks about is to level with you, so he plops himself down right beside you, and you bet it looks funny - you in yesterday's clothes, in a big, probably smelly, mess, and then a harbinger in full military outfit right beside you.

"i-" you try to say, but your throat seems too dry and worn out, so you opt for a whisper "look at his place"

he indeed does, hinting the small note of desperation in your voice.

"what about it?"

"it's a mess!" you sigh, covering your face with your hands, out of both embarrassment, and fatigue. you take a big breath before continuing "so i wanted to clean it up, i even brought all the... all the things, but it's so much stuff to do, and i'm tired, and- and i don't know!" you choose to stop as not to snap right then and there. "i can't even do my shitty chores right like an adult" you mumble, massaging your temples.

"and is sitting on the floor helping?" he simply asks, and for a second, you're almost mad at him for not being more... cooey and fuss over you a bit more. he sounds cold.

"what are you-"

"really, is it helping?" he repeats "because from how i see it, every little thing would seem bigger if you looked at it from this angle. come on" he nudges you before standing up, and offering a hand to lift you up. you, however, shake your head.

"i really can't deal with it today, childe, i'm sorry"

"just stand up" he pleas, and the second you take his hand, he helps you up in less than a second. when you're on his level again, he sneaks both his arms on the sides of your waist, and sort of sways around a little, before speaking again. "what if, what if we do it little by little? look, we'll start over there" he puts his hand on top of yours, and lifts your arm to point to the full sink along with his. "and that'd be it for today! and then tomorrow... actually, let's not make plans. we'll just pick something tomorrow, and do it then. does the sink sound like a lot to do?" he asks.

"do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to say no" you mutter, earning the heartiest and brightest laughter you've heard in days from him.

"always honest. but come on, i'll help." he rolls you out of his embrace, causing you to feel a sudden wave of cold, it was comfortable back there, you think.

however, as he works through the dishes with you, the pile does seem to lessen, and doesn't rule over your kitchen anymore. every time he hands you a plate to dry, he smiles as wide as he can, and it doesn't seem to bother him at all when you don't smile back.

"remember" he starts again, after a while of comfortable silence. he looks ridiculous, doing the kitchen duties in an outfit designed mostly to look presentable and slay enemies in it, but the look on his face is dead set. "the first lesson you've gotta learn before going off to battle something, is that the best defense is always, always to fight back. and if you don't think you can manage that, well, that's why nobody ever battles alone. it's common sense to have someone watching your back. and as for you, not only are you a great warrior yourself, but you've also got the best second-in-command willing to help you out. don't forget that."

kaeya

as for him, he's also perceptive and empathic, but the difference between him and tartaglia is that he does believe people have the right to figure some things out on their own, he's a firm believer in the magic of secrets

that's probably because he himself doesn't like to share too much about his deeply personal feelings

so he'd obviously see some wave of difficult emotions coming your way, but would he immediately start worrying? probably not

the guy doesn't have healthy copying mechanisms himself, don't think he expects those of others

every other night the two of you meet up at the tavern, kaeya always ordering wine, you asking the bartender for whatever was in store today, but it's never anything alcoholic.

and just like nearly always, you're seated at angel's share, him noticing you're not particularly in the mood for talking, and choosing to entertain you with as many stories of the day that went by as he can remember.

the waiter interrupts him, asking if your minds are already made up regarding the drink. now, kaeya always has you picking first, but since he sees you're still analyzing the card (as if you expected to find anything new), he goes first with a drink he knows charles makes really strong.

to his surprise, when it comes to you, you just mumble "i'll have the same he had"

before the waiter has a chance of writing that down, kaeya tells him that actually, you're gonna need a minute or two more, and to erase the order you've both put in.

as he walks away, the calvary captain's eyes pierce through yours.

"that's a pretty nasty drink you wanted there" he starts, feeling he can't let you handle your mess this time, preparing to dig a little deeper into what's on your mind.

you shrug your shoulders.

"hey" he speaks up a little firmer, hand moving to cover yours, and even though they twitch as to retreat from his grip, you let it be. "tell me what's up."

"nothing's <up>" you accentuate. "can't i even have a drink now?"

"obviously you can" he nods "as long as i know you're trying it just for the taste, and not for the strong kick it's gonna offer, cause that's a dangerous path that only leads to nasty places." concern shines through his gaze, and an encouraging smile is wandering somewhere in his expression, however his lips are still pressed into a tight line, the same he forms when he's either fighting or arguing.

you stay silent for a good long while, before sighing.

"maybe i want the kick. good, or bad, maybe i want to feel... something."

the sentence sounds all too familiar, as he shakes his head and takes your hand, leading you towards the exit.

"what're you-"

"you're obviously not in the right state to be in a bar, of all places" he states almost coldly "so i'm getting you somewhere safer."

the two of you leave the bar, and walk out into the cold of mondstadt's street, covered in the darkness of the night. you walk past him, not leveling up to him, just tagging along to whatever he's going.

it comes as a surprise, that you're neither headed for your apartment, nor his, nor the knights' headquarters. he's guiding you in an unknown direction, until you reach a dead end.

he clims up a small building, offering you a hand and shaking off your confused expressions and questions. "you'll see" he says. the two of you walk from roof to roof, and countless times you tell him it's ridiculous, but then, he jumps onto the city's wall, helping you out with two hands this time, sitting you down right next to him on the stone surface of the wall. it's a little wet from the night's humidity, and cold, and probably dirty too, but the moon shines right at you, and from this perspective, you see thousands of lights in houses, taverns and shops, from the bottom up to the cathedral.

going up from that, a calm and peaceful lake paints the landscape blue on the left, and even from up here, you see a sea of lampgrasses shining through the leaves of wolvendom forest. if you squint, lights are still on in dawn winery, and the path to liyue and all the other lands swirls around near diluc's house. there's so much you can see, even if the night limits your vision.

"i like to come here when i need to gain some perspective over what is happening in my life right now" kaeya speaks really softly and quietly, bordering on a whisper. "it's a beautiful view, even someone as insensitive to art as i am can see that, but other than that... it's huge. and even though it is, it's also alive. every single one of those beings whose lights are dying out as they slowly go to sleep one by one, they're alive. they're not a scenery, they're their own, individual worlds. and they all coexist with each other in such a clever manner, don't you think? they have their differences, they might even hate each other, or wish the worst upon the other's name, but from up here? they fit together like puzzles of one, big picture."

"that's a nice way to put it, for sure" you whisper, looking down onto your knees. his finger pushes your chin slightly to make you face him, and he smiles at you gently, thumb brushing against the skin of your cheek.

"you know, we each have our own worlds, built from scratch from such fragile materials. we have our worlds rise, shine, and crumble before our sights. we look over the ruins of them and think, this is the end of the world. there's nothing more, it's all dust now. but from up here, you see how many other worlds there are - everyone has their own. not everything that is happening in your world is true. you see it from first person's perspective, and therefore the view might be disturbed by many different aspects. you might not see the picture, you just see the broken puzzle fragment that can't fit with the rest, and you're ready to throw away the entire picture, without finishing it. but being here, it reminds me... the world doesn't end on the ruins you see. you can always ask someone to help you build them up again, and of course, you can expect it to fall into pieces once more, but this time, you'll keep in mind, there're-" he stopped, pointing to the city's lights. "so many people to help you raise it up to the clouds."

"your metaphor is really complex" you chuckle, but his face stays still.

"it's not the end of the world if your puzzle piece is broken. and the ruins are not unfixable if you feel too tired to build them up all by yourself. if anything, that's a start." his hand travels up to keep the hair from getting on your face, since the wind blows pretty hard on this height. "what do you say we start your puzzle once more, toghether?"

-

your friendly reminder that you can request things [here]

[littlestarofthewest]

Forever ago request that I started long ago and finally finished. Hope you'll see this, anon.

Title: Saved by the Bell | Words: 2,611 | Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Arthur x female reader

You can't exactly tell when it started; you just know it's getting worse. For a few weeks now, you and Arthur have been dancing around each other, making jokes and comments that aren't solely friendly. You also don't remember who started it, but now that you're both in it, neither of you wants to give in and stop. 

Somehow, Arthur always manages to do his work right in front of you, often needlessly shirtless, giving you a good look at his muscular body. In turn, you bend over way more than necessary, not caring if your clothes stay in place, exposing your cleavage or legs up to your thighs. 

Today, it's one of those days again. Arthur is chopping wood, always in your frame of vision, once again refusing to wear a shirt. He only stops when you use helping Pearson as an excuse to lick your fingers clean at every chance you get. 

Arthur disappears after that. You see him again when you're down by the river to clean some clothes. He washes barely a few steps away from you. Unlucky for him, you're not the most squeamish when it comes to cold water. Only dressed in your chemise, you don't care how the stream soaks the fabric, making it cling to your thighs. 

By the time Arthur walks over to you, you managed to get a few splashes of water on your chest as well, letting your breasts shine through like a beacon in the night. Arthur's eyes clearly rest there for a moment before he looks at your face.

"Charles said you wanted to come on our next hunting trip. That true?" he asks.

"Sure, why wouldn't I?"

"Lots of wild animals out there. It's pretty dangerous."

You know he doesn't mean that. After all, you've been out with them before. The whole conversation is just another way of teasing you. Arthur is standing way closer than he has to or does with the other girls. Droplets of water are still searching their way through the hair on his chest to run down over his stomach before they find their end at the hem of his jeans, not allowed to venture any deeper. Just like your gaze.

After weeks and weeks of this, it begins to annoy you. "You know, the chance of being ravished by some wild beast out there doesn't scare me at all. In fact, it would be a nice change of pace."

Arthur needs a moment to process your answer, and something in his face and posture shifts. "Are you sure? You could get hurt."

He sounds way too serious, and maybe you should get to the bottom of it, but you're out of patience. You get up and pick up the basket with the clothes before leaning over to Arthur. "I'm tired of the chase, Arthur. If you want your prey, you shoot it, or you don't. You don't make it run until it wants to throw itself off a cliff just to put an end to it."

Arthur opens his mouth but doesn't say anything. At that moment, you decide that you don't want a man who can't be honest about what he wants. You gave Arthur enough hints, making clear that you wouldn't be opposed to taking it a step further with him. If he can't act on that, then you'll call it quits. 

"Maybe I'll find someone else to hunt with," you say, walking away. For a brief moment, you have a flicker of hope that Arthur might hold you back, but the silence behind you is absolut. It's over.

[Line Break]

A week later, Arthur and Micah bring in a big score. They're the most unlikely pair out there, but Arthur is also the only one who can keep Micah in check aside from Dutch. Arthur chooses to work with him, so nobody else has to.

It's barely past noon, but a little celebration is born. People are singing and drinking, and while you're usually not much into booze, you make an exception this time. Micah, on the other hand, gets drunk faster than anybody else. That's probably why he tries to talk to you at all. You could never stand him and made that so clear that even a thickhead like Micah accepted that he should avoid you. Today, he seems to have forgotten all about that.

"Come on, doll. We've just gotten off to a bad start. I'm sure we can become friends."

The way he lets his eyes roam over your body makes it pretty clear that being friends is the last thing on his mind. Usually, you would have told him to get lost, but Arthur is walking over to get another beer, and an evil voice inside you tells you to get even. 

"Friends, huh?" you say, reaching for the collar of Micah's shirt. You straighten it before running your fingers over his skin, playing with the little hairs on Micah's chest. "That all?"

Micah grins, trying to puff himself up. Instead, he sways dangerously, barely able to stand upright. "Oh, I can be more than that. Say the word, and I'll show you a good time."

It's not lost on you that Arthur hasn't moved from his spot. He's just standing there, listening in on your conversation. "Tell you what," you say, leaning over to Micah and dropping your voice, "I'll think about it, but you have to do a lot better than this."

Arthur drops the bottle he's holding, but Micah pays him no mind, too occupied with you. "Let's go right now."

"Get sober first," you say and push Micah, making him fall flat on his ass. You walk away, hearing Micah laugh behind you.

You hope that he's forgotten all about this when he wakes up. You don't have the nerve to keep him off your back again, but Arthur's reaction was worth it. 

Not in the mood to participate in the festivities, you grab a basket from Pearson's wagon before venturing into the woods to find berries or mushrooms. The sun drops down through the trees, basking even the darkest places in a warm light. The bushes hang ripe with berries and picking a few, you wish everything was that easy.

You're about to move on when you hear something behind you. Pulling your knife out, you whisk around, the basket dropping to the floor. Arthur is coming out from behind a few trees, lifting up his hands as he sees you. "Just me."

"Why are you following me?"

"I was just heading into the woods," Arthur grunts. "Is that a crime now?"

You put away your knife and drop to your knees to collect the scattered berries. Arthur moves over to help you, annoying you even more. You can't be angry at him for being nice.

"Cowardice should be a crime," you murmur under your breath. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see how Arthur clenches his jaw, fighting not to give you an answer. Two berries later, he loses the battle. "I'm not a coward."

"If you say so."

"I'm not afraid," Arthur huffs, "just because I'm not an asshole like Micah."

You grab one of the berries so hard that it crushes in your hand. "At least he wants me and acted on it."

"Who says I don't want you?" Arthur hisses.

Your faces are only inches apart now, and you stay there to hold your ground. "If you want me, Arthur, you have to take me. You can't-"

You don't get a chance to finish the sentence. Arthur closes the gap between you and presses a hard kiss on your lips. At first, you're too stunned to react, but then you throw your arms around Arthur's neck, eager for more.

Spurred on by your reaction, Arthur moves closer, and you topple over into the grass, Arthur on top of you. He kisses you open-mouthed and sloppy, his hands digging into your sides. It's almost painful, but you can't hold back either, running your hands over his chest.

While opening his shirt, you rip off a button, and it flies away into the bushes, never to be seen again. Arthur kisses along your neck while his hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts. You arch your back, pressing up against him, and Arthur opens your dress. With quick fingers, he manages to work it down enough to expose you and leans in to kiss every inch he can reach. You thread your fingers into Arthur's hair and can't help that you pull on it when he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. 

"Finally," you gasp, and Arthur reaches down to pull up your dress.

His hand immediately goes to your center, his hand sneaking into your underwear to tease your pussy. With how long you've been waiting for this and the rough treatment of Arthur now, it's no surprise that you're soaking wet for him, and Arthur moans against your skin at the touch.

"You really want to get ravished, huh?" he murmurs, and this time you pull his hair on purpose. 

"You really should listen better."

"Fine," Arthur grunts, something in his voice that makes your skin tingle in anticipation. "Turn around."

He gives you free and helps you along, rolling you onto your stomach. "Arthur, what-?"

You can't finish the question and let out a surprised squeal when Arthur grabs you by the waist and lifts you up, forcing you to go on all fours. He pushes your skirt up with the same enthusiasm as before and pulls down your underwear, just enough to have access. 

For a moment, you can't feel Arthur but hear him rummaging around with his own clothes. Then, a warm hand finds your thigh, the touch setting butterflies free in your stomach. Arthur might talk about ravishing you, but doesn't have it in him to hurt you, still way more careful than you're used to.

He moves closer, making you feel his heat as he brushes his cock along your wet folds before pushing in. You claw your fingers into the ground under you as Arthur stretches you open, pushing in deep until he draws a soft cry from your lips. He stills then, hesitating once more.

"Arthur, please," you say, pushing back against him, "more."

Finally, Arthur moves with more confidence. He thrusts into you while his fingers dig into your hips, holding on to you for leverage. Knowing that you're not that far from camp, you try your best to stay quiet, but with the way Arthur treats you now, you can't suppress eager moans.

When you add the occasional "God, yes" and call out Arthur's name, he groans and goes even harder. You dig your hands into the ground and push back against Arthur, your insides on fire. It borders on being painful, but you still can't help begging for more.

Arthur runs his hand over your back and up your neck before he fists his fingers into your hair. The touch alone sends heat waves through your body, and then Arthur pulls. You're forced to lift your head to avoid the pain and hollow your back, lifting your ass even higher in the process.

Using the new angle, Arthur takes you without mercy, holding on to your hair. You're completely under his control, unable to move unless you want it to hurt. Cries of pleasure escape you, and without warning, Arthur pushes you down on the ground.

He only glides out of you to get into a new position, then he forces your legs apart with his own, pushing back into you. You groan when you feel Arthur's weight on you, and he grabs your hair again, making you lift your head. 

"Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?" Arthur asks, something dark in his voice.

Before you can answer, he already thrusts into you, and you remember how you talked about being ravished by a wild beast. It seems Arthur finally takes your words to heart. He barely gives you a second to breathe, holding you in that limbo between pain and pleasure, and your only choice is to take what he gives you.

When Arthur finally lets go of your hair, he puts his hand around your throat, and although there's no pressure on it, the gesture alone has you whimpering. 

"You're mine now," Arthur says, his breath hot against your ear. "No more joking around with Micah, you understand?"

"I was just-"

Arthur only moves his fingers, and you become quiet, barely able to breathe.

"Try that again," Arthur says, and you swallow hard, sure that Arthur can feel it.

"No Micah," you say, and Arthur hums, satisfied.

He picks up the pace, only interrupting the way he ruts into you to pull back and push in deep, making you cry out each time. By now, you're sure that at least one person in camp must have heard you, but Arthur gives you no chance to think about it.

He's everywhere, his voice, his touch, and his cock, filling you up so good that you're trembling with lust. You feel like you can barely take it anymore when Arthur reaches under you, his fingers pressing against your clit. Trapped between his hand and the constant thrusts, you can't hold on any longer.

"Arthur, I-" you manage to say but break off when your orgasm hits your core and rushes in waves through the rest of your body.

Arthur holds still as your muscles tighten around him, letting you set the pace for now. You push back against him, riding the last waves before your body relaxes and Arthur glides out of you.

He carefully turns you around, cupping your face with his hand. "You're alright?"

You lift your head to kiss him, a big smile hopping onto your face. "More than alright."

"Good," Arthur says, kissing you back, and you reach down between the two of you.

"Come here, big boy."

Arthur moans when you grab his cock, and when he tries to protest, you kiss him and hold on to his neck. This time, it's you who doesn't give him a chance to move, your hand sneaking into his hair.

Arthur curses against your lips as you tuck at a few strands and his cock pulses in your hand. He buries his face against your neck, his hips bucking, and finally, everything goes quiet.

You both take slow breaths before Arthur lies down next to you, staring up into the trees. 

"You know, we could have done that months ago," you say, unable to keep the snide out of your voice.

Arthur huffs. It's a single, somewhat defeated sound coming from deep within. "I admit it, I'm an idiot."

You turn to him, running your hand over his chest. "It's my fault, too. I could have been more forward instead of waiting until even Micah made a move."

"I said no Micah," Arthur groans.

"What? If it wasn't for him, you never would have made a move," you tease. "You should thank-"

Arthur moves over so fast that you barely see it before his lips seal yours. 

"I thank Micah in hell," he growls, fury in his eyes. "And I think I said no more Micah talk."

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes, but you can't help the tingling feeling that his voice sends all over your body. "I'll shut up if you make me."

Arthur laughs and leans over you, his lips almost touching yours. He grabs a strand of your hair, letting it run through his fingers. "I think I know just the way to do that."

[krabmeat]

heyyyy, just wanteddd too seee ifff youu cooulddd writteee sommmeee karlll x time!travel readerrrrr, itt coouuullddd beee flufff orr anggssttt. whateeeveerrr youuu wantttt :] (morreeeee iiinnnffooo: reeaddderrr allsooo hasss the abillitttyyy to time travelll and karlll and themmm manageeedd tooo bump intoo each otherrr innn the innbetweeeennnn. bothhh offff themm telll storries aboutttt theiir adventuresss tooo one anotherrr and arreee having a gennuinely goooddd timme! tttheeeyyyy meeet agggainn in theeee lllooosssttt cittttyyyy offff mizzzuuuuu annnnddd youuu caannn dooo whatteeeveerrrr affftteerrr thhhatttt)

sorrryyy fooor myyyy tyyyypingggg ssstyyyleeeee (cccaaaannnn i beeeeeee "beeeee annnooonnnnn" bbbutttt wiithouttt theeee draggged outtt letttterrrssss? I ussseeeeeee beeeee/aviannnn/hiveeeee/boottttleeeesssss prrroooonnnnnouuunnsssss)

𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝙺𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝚡 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌)

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Karl(Isaac), Ranboo(Charles), Dream(Ranbob), BadBoyHalo(Benjamin), Quackity(Cletus)

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: they/them

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: brief mention of suggestive content, death, murder, explosions, glass breaking, cursing, weapons, water

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎:

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS HOLY CRAP!!! firstly, welcome "bee anon" (bee/avian/hive/bottles) to my account! its lovely to have you here and thank you so much for the request! i hope this adds up to what you imagined and i hope you stick around! :]]

--------------------------

The In-Between. Any entity that normally roamed around there knew the place well. If you visited there, you visited often. Karl regularly roamed around the in between. The only face he saw there was his. Karl’s from different timelines traveled to the In-Between as well, but ever since he had found those ominous books that told him to steer clear of the “alternate Karl’s”, that’s exactly what he did. So seeing a new face there while roaming the brick-white palace startled him.

The stranger didn’t even get the chance to introduce themselves when Karl briskly grabs them by the arm and starts running to the room under the tree. 

“Woah-! Wait are you-“

But before the mystery person can finish their sentence, Karl cuts them off as quickly as possible.

“SSHHHH! Please hold on a second, I’ll let you know when you can talk.”

The mystery person nods and stays silent as they make their way under the big tree.

Once they arrive, Karl flops to the ground exhausted from the running.

“It’s the safest down here, no one can see what we’re doing. But that’s besides the point! Who the heck are you and how did you get here?!”

The mystery person slides down against the wall and onto the floor besides him. They think for a second, trying to recall how they had arrived. 

“I’m Y/n, I’m a time traveler and somehow I got HERE instead of the place I was planning on going to. I was walking around and I saw a bunch of the alternate versions of you around the place but I figured that if one of them were to- yknow, drag me away and under the tree, that’d be the one I’d need to talk to that isn’t a fake.” 

Karl nods in understanding before he realizes. 

“Wait- how did you know about the safety room being under the tree? Or the ‘alternate’ me’s not actually being from other realities?”

Y/n looks at Karl with a deadpan expression and leans back into the wall. They swing their arms out in front of them for dramatic effect.

“Well duh, I have an in between! You aren’t the only one, yknow. Did you get a bunch of those creepy, contradicting books from all around the place? The one that told me the useful information was in all caps, and the other one was talking about how great the place is and constantly used smiles. Not the traditional one though, like, it used the brackets instead of the parenthesis.”

Karl shoots up in surprise, they had gotten those too?! He was never aware that there were other time travelers that existed, let alone were able to get into other peoples in between! He nods, eager to ask them questions.

“So, where were you planning on going? You said you didn’t mean to come here, right?”

Y/n nods, remembering where they were trying to go previously.

“Yeah! I forgot the name, but I know that it’s some place underwater. An abandoned city or something. Enough about me though, one of the main reasons we both time travel is to tell stories, right? So tell me about the places you’ve been! Also, what’s your name? You got mine but I never got yours.”

“Ah, right- I’m Karl-!”

Karl turned around and flipped up his hoodie to show his light gray initials embedded onto the white hoodie. Y/n had a long, white robe with vine-like accents on the hems. The ends of the sleeves had Y/n’s initials on them as well.

“Well… the first place I’ve ever visited was this place I like to call….’The Town That Went Mad’! Ever play the video game ‘Town Of Salem’? It was basically that and I was like the host of it, sorta.”

Karl proceeded to explain the different personas and people to Y/n, there were people like Cornelius the Wise, Helga, Miles Memeington, Mayor Jimmy- Helgas husband, Robin the Orphan, Bob (he’s a builder, yknow), Catboy (very deep voice, no one knows why but it’s a strange contrast to the ears and tail. Mutant or furry??), and Jack the Farmer. He explained from how the orphan had tricked the entire town that he was a murderer when he was instead the Jester, to explaining what the word “dunderhead” meant in Helgas context after explaining how she ruthlessly and openly got her husband executed and then soon proceeded to sleep with Bob. 

Both of them were crying tears of laughter, listening and recalling their own stories. By the time Karl had finished telling his story, Y/n was on the ground wheezing from how funny they thought the story was.

“And your telling me they all just, DIED?! That’s so anticlimactic, I love it!”

It’s been maybe 3 hours or so of them discussing stories and laughing. As much as these two travel across the fabrics of the universe, they would have never imagined being able to finally tell someone about their travels and experiences! 

Y/n then started talking about a Sky Dynasty that lived up in the clouds in a kingdom called The Kingdom Of Synnefa. When they had dropped in, they would have fallen straight through the clouds if a kind man by the name of Galen hadn’t found them hanging off a building ledge for their dear life! Galen let Y/n drop into his wagon and he took them to get Skywalkers, shoes specifically make for walking on clouds. 

Y/n had then explained how a very old looking man who looked to be a pig hybrid approached them, asking them if they were new. Apparently the old pig man was the guardian of the Grand Library, saying how he adored the Kingdoms Greek history and fables. The funny part is that his name is Icarus, a very unfortunate demise that Icarus had in the past but apparently that was a sensitive subject for Icarus and he would get very upset if anyone brought it up.

Another 3 hours went by of this time Y/n telling their stories of their travels to The Kingdom Of Synnefa! Both Karl and Y/n were having a wonderful time chatting with one another about both the confusing rivalries between the carnivores and herbivores of the kingdom, as well as how the kingdom was slowly dying due to the mass amounts of pollution damage the “ground dwellers” have been inflicting on The Kingdom Of Synnefa.

Soon though, Y/n had to jump into their next travels- as well as Karl. They said their goodbyes to each other, both obviously upset about having to stop the fun and interesting chat. 

“Look, when I leave I’ll figure out how I got in, okay? If I don’t figure it out, it’s been a real pleasure Karl Jacobs. Anyways, off to the abandoned water city I go!” 

Karl nods and waves his hands frantically at them, eager and hopeful for Y/n to visit him again. 

“See ya around Y/n!”

Y/n then proceeds to take out a small book and pen from inside their robe. They open it and quickly scribble something down before closing it and putting away. Y/n gives Karl a last friendly smile before disappearing in a snap. Before that, they manage to give him one last message.

“Hopefully!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isaac wakes up in his bed by the sea docks. Meeting what seems to be his friends and roommates, Benjamin, Cletus, Charles and Monroe. Distant arguing can be heard from the docks. One of the voices sound oddly more familiar than the others to Isaac. Isaac walks over to the dock and finds two people arguing. 

“What’s going on here? Why are you guys arguing so early in the morning!”

The two people stand up and point at each other.

“MONROE DOESNT GIVE ME BACK THE F*CKING FISHING ROD!”

“BECAUSE THE LAST TIME YOU CAUGHT A FISH YOU KILLED IT, CLETUS!”

Monroe? Their voice sounds oddly similar to someone else’s, but Isaac can’t quite put his finger on it. He looks down ignoring the minor situation, when he sees a small leather book- then it clicks. Monroe is Y/n! But before Isaac confronts Monroe (Y/n), he picks up the small leather book. It isn’t the one that Y/n had when they left Karl’s In-Between, but it instead had what looked like the directions and coordinates for The Lost City Of Mizu!

“CHARLES! GET THE F*CK OVER HERE SO YOU CAN GUIDE US TO THESE COORDS!!”

Charles walks out of the shared dockside house alongside Benjamin, I hand him the book and start heading for the boats when Monroe stops me. They whisper loud enough so that I can only hear.

“Karl? Is that you?”

“Y/n?! You recognize me!”

We get on the same boat while the others get on theirs as well, and set off following Charles to The Lost City Of Mizu.

“Okay first, we call each other Isaac and Monroe, okay? Don’t break character.”

“I don’t even know HOW I remember! Usually I don’t until I leave!”

“Well that doesn’t matter right now, just try to act like Isaac and not Karl.”

And that’s what they did. Karl was Isaac and Y/n was Monroe. 

Once they found The Lost City Of Mizu, they met a man named Ranbob. Ranbob was the last resident of the city, and offered to show the group around. Rooms and rooms of full on history! It was like a huge museum filled with information of a place Ranbob called The Dream SMP, and Karl and Y/n were eating it up. Ranbob had suddenly disappeared, but the group didn’t pay much mind of it as they were trying to get into the Tree Dome. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Tree Dome room was as marvelous as it was big. The tree was absolutely beautiful, and was also the supply of oxygen for the now abandoned city- though the tree still looks to be thriving tremendously. The group spots a chest on the tree and nominates Cletus to go and retrieve it. Branch after branch and he’s finally up there! But soon after fallen and blown into oblivion because in suddenly appears Ranbob with loads and loads on TNT. Placing it all around the tree and the room, all he says is

“No one survives when they come here.”

And 

BOOM!

He sets off the TNT in the tree, Cletus. Before he died, Cletus luckily tossed the group the book he essentially died for so before reading it, the group ran out of the room and shut the iron doors.

The rest of the group had also found a book that had a key to a “Secret Room”, and very soon after they were making they’re way down a certain “Secret Room” only to be met with another book and a room to the side full of lava parkour. Apparently the last person to try and make it past the lava parkour failed, but they know the key or next clue HAS to be there, so Benjamin is nominated to do the lava parkour, failing and falling into the lava on the final step. Bravely after watching his friend die, Isaac (Karl) decides he’s gonna take a go at the parkour, and succeeds! He gets the key and directions to the final room before they can escape and heads to the final room with Monroe and Charles.

The final room is...strange, to say the least. Black brick walls and flooring, the walls lined with diamond armour and weapons. At the end of the small hallway rested what looked like a terrarium. One of the walls were made of glass so they could look in, and what they saw wasn’t what they were expecting. A normal flat biome with grass blocks, a mini cave in the corner that had a few gold ores in it if you looked hard enough, and the strangest of all was the statue of a looming, smiling, green figure in the very center. 

“Everyone had a person they idolized.”

Ranbob suddenly appears, interrupting the 3 taking in the room.

“Ranbob? Dude what the f*ck?!”

Y/n reaches for one of the diamond axes lining the wall, when suddenly Ranbob unsheathes a netherite sword. 

“Don’t touch anything.”

That’s enough to get Y/n to back up from both the weapons AND Ranbob. 

“How are you even here? We thought you DIED!”

But Ranbob didn’t seem to be bothered nor wanted to be bothered by such minuscule questions, and instead walked towards the glass of the terrarium. 

“This is my idol. His name is Dream.”

“Was he a good person..?”

Karl questioned hesitantly. He didn’t wanna anger or irritate Ranbob after seeing what he said to Y/n.

“Hmm, yes, he’s a good person. Depending on what you think.”

Karl walks up to the glass and shatters an opening with his elbow. He, Charles and Y/n step into the terrarium, observing the statue and its habitat more closely. But they didn’t get the chance to say much more. Ranbob unsheathes his sword for the last time, trapping everyone inside the terrarium. 

“No one makes it out alive.”

GASP!

“What the- where are we?”

…

“Y/n…? Y/n! Your back!”

[parcoeurs]

Extremely fascinated by your wag AU tag 👀.

thanks bestie so am i.

okay lmao so this isn't an actual fic that'll ever be written but. i was talking to my friend about it who still hasn't finished dts season 3 unfortunately but it means that i've switched around ages and years etc. i promise this has the potential to be a fun and sexy time but there's just s o much background shit that needs to be discussed. tw for mentions of irl deaths etc:

but pierre & charles meeting when they're 5-6 (which is what i think charles actually says irl but someone said it might've been closer to when they were 10-11? regardless.) and charles' dad passes away when they're 9-10, and jules when they're 13-14 and charles quits racing then. (fyi i know that irl jules passed away first)

he thinks about quitting when his dad passes away but keeps going with help from jules. so when the accident etc happens, it's not even like an active decision he ponders. he just knows there's no way he'll race again.

and pierre's been with him throughout everything, his best friend who he can talk to when he can't bear looking at his own family. so he doesn't understand when pierre tells him he's going to keep racing. when charles had told him he was never going to get into a kart ever again, pierre had nodded, grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. important to note that they're barely teenagers rn so yes charles feels betrayed that pierre isn't feeling the same things he is and isn't choosing the same future for himself etc.

they have a huge fight, lots of crying, lots of dramatic teenage angst. but it ultimately ends with charles shutting pierre out of his life. which is easier said than done when it's your best friend whose family is super close with yours. but it works because pierre is off racing around the world and charles has done all he can to never have to think about that stuff.

so charles goes to school, is doing uni somewhere in europe. studies something generic like business or maybe if i'm feeling suuuuper indulgent i will have him major in environmental studies like moi <3 pointedly does not come to monaco during grand prix weekend or the week before or the week after.

and then anthoine passes away too. (they're 20-21 now)

they see each other again at the funeral but don't talk, they meet up afterwards. pierre breaking down in charles' arms, clutching at his back, telling him he was right. pierre should've quit, he can't do this anymore either. they haven't said a word to each other in 7 years but charles still knows pierre, and knows that this isn't actually what pierre wants. or what he should do. (charles vaguely knows pierre's in f1 but doesn't know he's with redbull, doesn't know redbull's the top team etc)

"you can still do this, you will," charles tells him.

"not without you again."

so then comes the challenge of mending their relationship while still working through the shared trauma, and the Layers of past trauma. and also just the general awkwardness that comes with a friendship breakup/makeup situation you know! they can't just act like nothing happened but would it be easier that way?

they start texting first, then they play fifa or cod together. (sometimes pierre's british friend lewis joins too.)

slowly slowly slowly, they become friends again and then inseparable too. maybe even closer than they were before and charles only now realizes how much he missed pierre. while pierre still can't believe he has charles back now, it's as good as he let himself imagine.

the part i'm unsure about is if i would want pierre's career trajectory to be the same or not. because i think the demotion adds SUCH a painful but interesting aspect to his ~storyline. but ultimately i think maybe he just doesn't get the second seat immediately. spends more years with toro rosso/alpha tauri before getting "called up" (sorry i have no idea what the proper terminology is haha ignore the nba/nhl terms).

he invites charles to his first race in the red bull and charles says no. immediately. pierre's quiet on the other side of the phone, internally thinking he messed this up somehow. he thought things were going well and he takes this as charles doesn't want to see him. but he knows there's a lot more that's stopping charles and he also knows charles will definitely pull back if pierre asks about the other stuff. so he moves right along, asking charles about school, the weather, and tries not to let it show in his voice that he misses his best friend and needs him too.

"i'm going to try to watch," charles says, after pierre's yawned goodnight through the phone and is waiting for him to hang up. because you know pierre's not going to hang up first.

"what?"

"the race. i'm going to try. goodnight!" mentally charles slams the phone shut but really he just smashes at the red button before shoving it under his bed and looking at his hands trying to get answers for what he just did.

his only relief is that he didn't promise pierre he would watch, just that he would try. couldn't even choke out a, "good luck." (insert long paragraph about charles letting pierre down or thinking he has).

he only watches qualifying. pierre p3. already knows on saturday that there's no way he can watch the actual race.

but on sunday when he's supposed to be going over his notes for his climate change science & policy course (yes.... i did it...) he finds himself with his heart in his mouth refreshing formula1 dot com. watches the random names move up and down while keeping his eyes on 10 - gasly. (starts shaking for a second when he sees pierre's name drop until the IN PIT sign comes up across his name. fellas the thing about triggers is-- anyways.)

the scariest part is that by the time he's scrolled through all of red bull's socials to look at pictures of pierre on the podium (he finished p2 sorry i know this truly does not matter), he's forgotten about the race. the anxiety sits small in the back of his throat, his happiness for pierre is bright and loud in front of him. charles sends him a message, asking him to call whenever he can and adds a blue & red heart emoji which feels like a Big Step. but basically pierre calls and acts like nothing has happened since the last time they talked. mentions the breakfast he had in detail as if he didn’t get a podium in his first race with red bull. finally with a big team. but charles embarrassingly realizes that maybe his text didn't exactly imply in literally any way whatsoever that he knows the results of the race and was trying to congratulate pierre with this call. charles probably feels so embarrassed at this point but somehow still can't manage to say anything about the race until the next day maybe.

maybe texts pierre, good job. or, you were great. or something about him and not the race. or maybe reposts a picture from red bull but not one of pierre in his car, pointedly. only one of him on the podium. and pierre probably reposts it with the squid emoji and/or my favourite sentence in the world, merci petit calamaro.

charles cries when he reads it.

not to be lazy now but [insert 10k words of them building their friendship. meeting up in monaco with both of their families. meeting in milan or london or paris idk where pierre would live. but he flies charles out. not on a private jet because charles flat out refused lol. not because he's an environmentally conscious king he's just too, embarrassed? overwhelmed? by pierre doing Things Like That for him. even though he wants it lol. like when he graduates he's soooo annoyed that pierre couldn't come celebrate immediately because it was race week. but when he comes home his apartment is filled with flowers (roses, his favourite) and balloons and a giant teddy bear as tall as charles. and he DOES post 12 instagram stories to go with the other 30 from his other friends congratulating him. so yeah charles goes through a lot of personal growth and therapy. to the point where he's watching pierre race again, and waiting for him to invite him to a race again!!! do not even think about actual dates i'm fucking begging you but the one he goes to is monza :))))]

ultimately charles' path to understand/accepting/moving on from, his trauma, happens once he has pierre back in his life. it's also encouraged by pierre, but it's also not entirely because of him. not sure how to word that but yeah. these things are happening at the same time but charles still has to go through them by himself.

pierre takes him on romantic dates all around the world and charles doesn't realize that's what they are. fully in his bestie vibes only mood while pining for pierre in a way he doesn't even quite understand. almost a self deprecating, jeez whoever gets to date pierre is going to be so lucky :/

fanpage on ig: met pierre's alleged bf he's so pretty and sweet, i complimented his shoes and he was so nice. charles reading that: i didnt know he was dating someone :( why wouldn't he tell me :( well at least someone complimented my shoes today :(

pierre doesn't necessarily think they're dating, but he does know charles doesn't quite realize what they're doing so he's just waiting for him to come to terms with it.

not to give this au 10 different subplots but yeah that miscommunication plot becomes our prize for surviving through the first part of this.

but yeah at the last race of the year, that pierre wins because i said so? charles finds him before he goes on to the podium, kisses his helmet. says i love you, i'm so proud of you.

THEN, finally, charles does become pierre's wag. we made it kids. we did it joe.

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

airhorn sounds in your ear as you try to sleep ITS FIC TIME, CHILDREN

His father’s first reaction is, predictably, nervous. They’re sitting in the living room as a family, all sort of hanging out, but doing their own thing. Hoarders is passively playing, Lydia is tucked under the couch with a book and flashlight, Emily is in the corner with her laptop, and BJ and Charles are each sitting on opposite ends of the couch, going through their phones. He gets a very sweet text from Adam, showing that the other teen has put the photo Lydia took of them in a frame, and he grins, and holds the device to his chest, feeling giddy and flustered. His dad notices. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Charles smiles, and BJ figures this is as good a time as any. “I got a text from my boyfriend.” Charles stares. From her chair in the corner, Emily’s typing slows, and then stops, as her brain catches up with that sentence. His phone pings again, and he looks back down at a message from Barbara, then back to his parents. “And my girlfriend.” Emily closes her computer. Her smile is enormous. “Shut up.” “No, seriously!” he grins back at his mother, and then notes the color Charles is going. “Adam and Barbara?” Emily asks, knowingly, and he nods. “We made it official yesterday. I took em to th’ Smallpox Hospital.” “Awww! That’s so romantic!” “You’re dating?” Charles finally finds words. “Unclench your everything, dad, jeezus.” “It’s just… do you think that’s a good idea?” “I think it’s a great idea,” BJ says, a little defensive. “What, I’m not allowed to date? M’too weird for it?” “That’s not what I meant, BJ,” Charles frowns. But he can tell it kind of is.

“Charles, honey, he’s sixteen. He’s going to date,” Emily says softly, and Charles looks back at her. “But two people at once? And they’re-” “They’re what, Chuck?” “Humans. They’re human, BJ.” “Holy shit, they are? Here I thought they were just really crappy demons.” “I just don’t know if you’ve thought this through. Wouldn’t you be happier dating another demon?” “I don’t know any other demons, dad,” he growls, temper flaring. “Unless you want me to date Sam, an’ look like a total creep, since he’s stuck at like, ten.” “Stop it, BJ.” “You stop it! Just be happy for me!” “I am.. Happy. For you.” BJ sits back, crosses his arms, and scowls. “Got a funny way of showin’ it.” His father stands, and takes to pacing. Christ. “We should lay out ground rules.” “Me an’ Adam an’ Barb did that already.” “No, I mean, house rules,” Charles says, rubbing at his beard. “Things you’re allowed to do, and not. Oh, god, first things first, I’m going to get you a box of condoms.” Betelgeuse feels himself flush, and then Lydia finally pipes up, sticking her head out from under the couch. “Gross.”

“You’re seriously blowin’ this out of proportion. We’ve barely held hands!” “I was a teenager. I remember how things escalate. The last thing we need is someone pregnant. Especially with whatever a human and a demon would make.” “Th’ anti-Christ, maybe,” he says, unhelpfully, and he sees the way his dad’s expression twists into further worry. “It was a joke! Oh my god!”

His mother, bless her, swoops in, just then. “BJ’s just told us good news,” she says, standing, and putting a hand on Charles’ arm, which stops his pacing. “I need you to reassess how you’re making him feel, right now.” Charles looks from his wife to his son. BJ rubs at his nose, embarrassed and upset, and probably purple, and he sees his father make a choice. “BJ, I’m sorry,” Charles comes over, hesitantly reaches down, and Betelgeuse responds by throwing his arms around his dad. Chuck rubs his back. “Tell me about them,” he says, “and I promise to be cool. As cool as I can be, at least.”

That’s at least something. He can tell his dad is still worried, but he does listen, as Betelgeuse describes his two partners. “We spend a lotta time together,” he tells his father. “An’ they’re both goody two shoes. Seriously, they’re borin’, nice people.” “Tell us how you met them, BJ,” Emily smiles. He regales them with the story of Barbara and the flower, and then Adam in the library, and by the time he’s done, he’s back to feeling green, all smiles and excitement and stimming hands. It feels really, really good to not be alone.

Monday comes a day too soon, and he sort of misses the atmosphere of the library, because at lunch, he’s forced to pick up trash, with Honeywell watching him intently from a bench. The only consolation prize to this is the vice principal’s time is also being wasted. He doesn’t miss how a few kids walk by and intentionally throw things at his feet for him to pick up. They don’t get away with it, though, because either they trip and find their shoelaces are mysteriously tied together, or for those unlucky ones without laces, they’ll find a snake in their lockers. The miserable part is, Adam and Barbara aren’t allowed to hang out with him while he’s working. They’d tried, and were told in no uncertain terms to leave him alone, leave him to his task, or they’d be sent to the other side of the campus to do the same thing. A little bit of punishment, he understands. But he draws the line at threatening Sexy and Babs. He’s absolutely plotting exactly how he’s going to ruin the overbearing adult’s day when he feels a strange sensation in his chest, like a slight tug. He pauses. It’s not a pain, not really, more like a pull away from himself, which doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what it is. He has to assume it’s another demon thing.

He glances at his watcher, who seems engrossed in paperwork.

Man, if only this guy would fuck off, he could be enjoying lunch with his friends- The pull away from himself is stronger, this time. He concentrates on it, and then remembers how physical the summoning of clones is, requiring a motion like he’s tossing something, and he gives that a try, this time, gently lobbing nothing at a student passing by. The kid looks surprised, and then goes rigid, and he thinks maybe he’s killed someone for the first time, but then the teen straightens up, and stands, stiff, facing him, and BJ feels mentally split, between two bodies. He raises his right hand. The student mirrors the action, eyes wide, confused. He lowers it, then kicks his leg out to the side, and again, he’s copied. Not copied.. Followed? The other student is like a marionette, and his mind is the strings, or something close to that. “Possession,” he grins, wickedly, and then he pulls himself back all to one body, and the kid falls on his ass, confused, and scrambles away.

Oh, he is so going to use this new power for evil.

“BJ Deetz! I don’t see this quad getting any cleaner!” Honeywell has looked up from his paperwork to find Betelgeuse standing there, grinning to himself, and the teen responds by spinning around, and throwing nothing at the overbearing authority figure. Honeywell also goes rigid, and BJ lifts his hands, directing the VP to stand, and the hapless adult does so. “Looks clean enough to me,” he mouths, and hears that sentence come out of Honeywell’s lips. “Clean enough to eat offa!” With a swiping motion, he forces the man to knock his own hardly touched lunch to the ground, and then BJ crouches low, and the adult follows, shoving his face into what was clearly leftovers from some night’s dinner, and coming back up with a mouthful of noodles and dirt. The big man’s eyes are wide. He’s scared, confused. It’s thrilling. With a hand motion, BJ forces the breather’s face back into the mess of food and dirt, and doesn’t let him up until the muffled cries become truly panicked. Possession out in public might be a bit too noticeable, though, because there’s a gathering group of kids watching what the teacher is doing, their phones out, taking video, and he doesn’t need them connecting his own strange movements back to Honeywell’s. He makes a final hand motion, releasing the adult, and shoves his hands in his pockets, just in time for Adam and Barbara to appear as faces in the crowd. Honeywell, freed, sits up, coughing and sputtering, and looking horrified. “What the heck happened?” Adam asks, and BJ shrugs. “He started throwin’ a fit, outta no where,” he lies, but he feels the vice principal watching him, staring up from the dirt, where he’s still sat, dazed. He gives the adult a grin. “Totally fuckin’ weird.”

The rest of his lunch period is freed up, suddenly, as Honeywell goes to clean himself off in the men’s room.

This fun new ability requires further testing, but not right now, now when Adam and Barbara are around. Soon, though. Very soon. “I’m really bummed we can’t be in the library anymore. I tried to pop in to grab something this morning and the librarian chased me out.” Adam looks genuinely sad, at that, which startles BJ out of his downright vicious thoughts. “By the way,” Adam adds, “They put up the casting sheet today. Want to guess who got that dentist part?” Barbara is grinning wide. “Me?” he croaks. A few other kids tried for it.. He didn’t think he’d get picked, honestly, thought that maybe someone more likable, or more friendly, would be chosen over him, but Barbara squishes his cheeks in her hands. “You!” she cheers, and he blushes. “You’re going to be amazing! But that means,” she tells him, suddenly serious, “-that you have to actually try.” He nods, as much as he can, her hands still on either side of his face. “Effort,” he grunts. “Got it.” She leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose. He scrambles to throw his hood over his head, and cinches it closed, knowing for a fact he’s gone pink from the tips of his hair down to the roots. “BJ?” Barbara giggles, as he peers out at her from his hood. “Should I not do that?” “NO! No, no, I, uh, just.. Warn a guy, next time.”

He hadn’t thought through the logistics of this, clearly, because he can’t be scrambling away from them every time one of them kisses him, just because his stupid hair won’t behave itself. God, he’s going to have to start wearing a beanie, or something, until he can get this color thing under control. Annoyingly, his dad was right. He really hadn’t given this much thought, beyond, Adam and Barbara pretty, wanna kiss them. Now he’s got to work out the logistics of how he’s going to actually achieve that goal, without basically, for lack of a better word, outing himself. He doesn’t want to think that something like what happened with Kevin could happen again, but he hadn’t really seen that situation coming, and it had ended about as poorly as a budding romance can, with parental murder. So yeah, he’s not exactly confident he can trust them with this secret. Better to keep it to himself, play his cards close to the chest, not let them all the way in. That’s safest for all of them. Good plan, BJ, he thinks to himself, watching Barbara dust wood shavings out of Adam’s hair, a leftover byproduct of his shop class. No one gets hurt. No one has to know anything. He can keep playing human with his cute new partners for as long as they’ll let him.

Stretching before him, suddenly, he foresees a lifetime, several lifetimes actually, given the span of existence for a demon, lifetimes full of deceit and lies and partners who age without him, and it all makes him very tired, and sad. This is going to be how it is, he realizes. He’s going to pretend and mimic and do his best to fit himself into a template that he wasn’t made for, and he’s presumably going to be doing it forever, maybe until the minute the last human takes their last breath, because playing human is as close as he can get. It's easier to play pretend, throw a glamour on and act along, than to be himself and risk the pain and rejection, or the truth that maybe his worth is tied into what he can do, not who he is. It all leaves him dizzy, this sudden moment of unwanted clarity. He pushes it down, far down at it can go, to somewhere deep in his chest, and tries to come back to this moment, right now, because his boyfriend is looking at him. “You going to stay in that hood all day, shy guy?” Adam smiles, and BJ peels the hood back, and runs a hand through the mop of green mess that passes for his hair, and smiles, like he didn’t just have a mini existential crisis in the middle of a Monday afternoon. “What do you guys do for lunch when you’re not being wooed by an errant library assistant?” Betelgeuse forces an extra bit of pep that he doesn’t feel into his voice, and Barbara brightens. “You can come meet my friends!” She says, and he lets her lead him by the hand, across the quad, a corpse playing pretend at being alive, holding hands with the living.

They find Barbara’s friends at the lunch tables. He’s never sat over here, never really had reason to be over here at all, actually, because each table is always claimed by a friend group, and he’s never felt welcome enough to try and squeeze in with any of them. But he sort of has a group now, he supposes. If three can be a crowd, it can be a group. He does feel eyes on him as he’s directed on where to sit by Barbara, other kids at other tables watching him, maybe confused on how he’s ingratiated himself enough to actually have a place to sit. Barbara arranges where they sit, seemingly very intentionally, with herself between Betelgeuse and Adam, and Allison and Blair on the other side of the table, and they begin eating. The air is a little tense. He picks at his lunch, leftovers Charles packed for him. It smells amazing, but he doesn’t want to scarf it all down, not when he’s feeling watched, the way he is. And he is being watched, very intently so, by Barbara’s friends, who are apparently also Adam’s friends. Everyone but him seems to know so many other people. It’s almost insane, like, how do they keep them all straight? He’s only vaguely aware of which one of these similar white girls is Blair, because he’s spoken to her, at least once. Allison might as well be a balloon with a face painted on it. “So,” Blair puts down her fork. She’s eating a dry salad with little chunks of chicken in it, low carb, low cal. He’d be worried for her health if he gave a shit. “So,” he copies her instinctively, tilting her head the same way she does, holding his hands in front of himself in a mirror of her own movements. Barbara catches what he’s doing, and gives his arm a gentle pinch. “Is this for real?” Blair isn’t asking him, she’s looking between Adam and Barbara, who are both looking a little surprised at the sudden question. “What do you mean?” Adam asks, unsure, and Blair gestures between the three of them. “This whole.. This! When Barbara said she suddenly had two boyfriends, I had to check my calendar, make sure it wasn’t April Fool’s. And then it turns out to be you and..” Her eyes fall back on Betelgeuse. “Him. You, Adam, I get. You and Barbara together, that makes sense. But, like, BJ?” “Sure, if you’re offerin’,” he says, and Blair makes a face. Go on over to Ao3 to read the rest!! There's more waiting for your hungry eyes over there

[bytheangell]

I Don't Want to Keep Secrets Just to Keep You

(Written for the @sh-rare-pair-exchange​! Check out the tumblr or AO3 collection for other amazing rare pair fics!)  (CW: angst with an open/ambiguous ending) (Read on AO3)

There’s a part of Alastair that doesn’t want to do this. A part of him that thinks maybe he overreacted before to Charles’ desire to keep them a secret, a part that wonders if maybe it wasn’t so unreasonable to want to cover up in public what they did when they met in private. Perhaps Charles had the right idea all along...

...and then the moment his mind begins to think along those lines, Alastair gets a tight, sick feeling in his stomach and he knows that it’s wrong… or at least wrong for him. He can’t go through that again, and he’s tired of hiding. Being forced to keep his emotions behind locked doors and constantly be on guard of every instinctive glance or desire to reach out is awful. He’s tired of lying, by omission or otherwise, about what’s important in his life. About who is important in his life.

About who he loves.

Because there is no longer any doubt in Alastair’s mind that he loves Thomas, and he thinks that Thomas might love him back. He hopes that Thomas does, because that may be the deciding factor in the conversation they’re about to have.

They agree to meet at Thomas’ today - his family is out of town, away in Idris until later that night - so they have the place to themselves. Alastair is barely inside the front door before it slams shut behind him and Thomas pushes him against it, their lips colliding with impressive intensity.

Instinctively, Alastair kisses Thomas back, losing himself for a second or two. Maybe they could do this first, then talk… but he knows if he allows that to happen then he’ll never go through with it. A small part of him wants to do it anyway, just in case it’s the last time, but as soon as the thought crosses his mind he knows it doesn’t feel right, that his heart wouldn’t be in it while his thoughts are so otherwise distracted.

“Wait,” Alastair says, shifting his head to the side as he has nowhere to pull back to, his body still pressed against the door. “There’s something we need to talk about.” He’s trying to sound casual but there’s a nervous edge to his words that he can’t fully conceal, and Thomas picks up on it.

Thomas freezes around him, arms pressing against the door on either side of Alastair where he immediately boxed him in. “Why does it sound like you’re about to break up with me?” Thomas asks, and though he forces a short laugh his tone is quiet and fearful. He takes a step back to give Alastair room to move away from the door.

“Can we break up if we aren’t formally dating?” Alastair questions, immediately knowing it’s the wrong thing to say, the words coming out far more bitter than intended. “I can’t court you, or take you to dinner or for walks in the park. I can’t even smile at you the wrong way in front of your friends,” Alastair points out as he continues. He’s voiced individual concerns here and there in the past, but now it all comes tumbling out at once in his frustration.

“Alastair…” Thomas says, the name soft and pleading.

“I know you don’t want people to know. I know you’re not ready, and I would never make you do that against your will. I just… I’m not certain I can keep doing this until you are.” It feels like a weight lifted off his chest to admit. He never gave himself and Charles this chance, this opportunity to have a proper discussion about it before the whole thing blew up into a fight. Alastair doesn’t want to repeat that history, not with Thomas, not when he means so much to him.

Thomas moves to lean back against the wall, still silent. The quiet hangs heavy between them, uncertainty souring the air, and Alastair speaks again to fill the silence before it suffocates them.

“I’ve done this before. I’ve been a secret before, I can’t do it again. But before there was never any hope of being anything else. He was never going to tell anyone. We were never going to be properly happy, not the way…” Alastair moves to stand in front of Thomas now, to make sure he’s really listening. “Not the way you and I can be. If you want to wait, I can wait. But only if there’s going to be a time when we won’t be a secret. I won’t hide forever, neither of us deserve that.”

Charles was never going to allow them to be together properly. Charles would have his wife, whoever that ended up being, and he would have his secrets. Alastair refused to be that secret for him, or anyone else. He could wait, he would wait, if Thomas needs time. But he can’t stick around if there’s no hope of that future.

“I can’t keep the entire part of myself that loves you a secret. It’s too much of me now. And I do love you, Thomas” Alastair adds because it feels important to say it now. No matter what happens, Thomas deserves to know how deep his feelings run.

Now that he’s said it Alastair wants to say it again, and again, and again. He wants to gasp the words against Thomas’ skin and muffle them into pillows at night and whisper them sweetly in the morning.

Before this moment Alastair had steeled himself to be alright with however this conversation played out, but now he’s struck with the sudden fear that he may never get the chance to say those three words to Thomas again.

“Oh,” Thomas says finally, the word spoken in a breath of surprise.

“I…” Thomas starts again, before immediately trailing off.

Alastair fights the surge of panic born from Thomas’ hesitation. I love you, Thomas. I love you. Please, love me too, Alastair thinks, as if maybe he can think the words loud and desperate enough for Thomas to hear them.

“I’m sorry, Alastair,” Thomas finally finishes the previously aborted sentence. “I can’t.”

The entire world feels as if it’s crashing down around Alastair.

“You can’t say it back? Because that’s fine. That isn’t why I said it,” Alastair attempts to salvage the situation, but Thomas shakes his head to stop him.

“No… I mean, I can’t say it back, but I also can’t... '' Thomas motions vaguely between them as he struggles to find the right words. Alastair can tell he’s flustered. “I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be ready. I can’t make that promise, and it isn’t fair to you, to string you along until I’m maybe ready someday. You deserve someone who can be there for you all the time, not just when no one else is around, and I can’t… I can’t be that person.”

“I see,” Alastair says, wishing he were even half as numb as he’s pretending to be. He reminds himself that this was always a possibility, as much as he hoped otherwise. Alastair waits for Thomas to change his mind, to take it back, to realize that they’re worth the risk of promising that one day soon they can tell the world about them.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, looking everywhere but Alastair’s eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.

“So that’s it? Just like that?” Alastair isn’t sure who he’s more upset with, Thomas or himself. He expected there to be more of a discussion, or at least more of an argument, over what they’d do next. He expected at least enough uncertainty to try and convince Thomas that they could still work out, not for Thomas to be so immediate and sure in his inclination to want to end things.

Perhaps he expected too much from both of them.

“It’s probably for the best. I think we both always knew it’d end sooner or later…” Thomas says, voice unsteady.

Alastair wants to scream at him that no, they didn’t both know that. That he doesn’t think Thomas truly believes it, either. He almost does, but he doesn’t think he can survive hearing Thomas repeat the words to try and convince him.

“I suppose I should leave then,” Alastair says instead, pausing only to step forward and give Thomas a chaste kiss goodbye before leaving without another word.

He thought they were in this together, that their relationship meant more… that he meant more than something Thomas could simply throw away without even fighting for.

The moment the door closes behind him Alastair feels the tears prickle in his eyes. He makes no attempt to stop them from falling the entire way home.

---

The moment Alastair leaves, Thomas slumps back against the door and slides to the floor.

What did he just do?

Thomas told Alastair he deserves someone who’s sure, but the problem isn’t that Thomas isn’t sure of Alastair, or even of them as a couple… it’s only himself he’s unsure of. His own doubts and hesitations and hold-ups.

He should’ve said he needed time, but he panicked in the moment. He knows he can’t make that sort of promise, not when his mind immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusions of how taking their relationship public may go over. And Alastair is right - it isn’t fair of Thomas to force that secrecy on him for who knows how long. Weeks? Months? What if it took Thomas years to come to terms with… well, everything their relationship entails?

It isn’t just him affected by this decision, it’s Matthew and James, it’s his own family who were hurt by Alastair’s petty rumors in school. Just because Thomas heard Alastair out and forgave him doesn’t mean anyone else would, and then where would they be? That isn’t even taking into consideration his family’s reputation, the Lightwood name already under such public scrutiny…

There are too many variables, too many things that can go wrong, and Thomas isn’t sure he’s strong enough to face them. He isn’t sure he’ll ever be, no matter how much he loves--

Loves.

Fuck.

For the briefest moment, he considers going after Alastair to talk things out properly instead of just shutting them down. He hesitates with his hand on the handle of the door, because what would he be doing, really? Bringing the man he loves back to a life of secrecy and stolen kisses in the shadows? If he loves him, he should let him go, to find someone who can love him better, the way he deserves.

Thomas cancels his plans that night, and the night after, and every day for the following week, saying he's feeling under the weather. He is, in a way - every time he thinks about what happened between him and Alastair he feels ill, a sick churning in his stomach he can’t ignore. He uses his ‘illness’ as an excuse for being quieter than usual for another week, and then two, until his friends finally decide to call out his lie.

Matthew, James, and Christopher wait until Thomas has a few drinks in him to pry into the real reason he’s upset, and it’s obvious they’ve discussed this amongst themselves because there are theories ranging from Thomas secretly hating them now and planning to run away to Paris, to Thomas having an affair with a half-mermaid.

“You’re all ridiculous,” he says, with a small smile and a fond shake of his head. It’s more than he’s managed in weeks. He weighs his options and decides that he needs to tell them something, thinking that perhaps he can manage enough of the truth while being vague on the details, just enough for them to believe him and drop the matter. He knows that if he lies now it’ll only spiral into a series of curious questions he can’t control and wouldn’t have answers for, so a vague truth seems safest.

“I was seeing someone,” Thomas admits slowly. “But I made a mess of things, and I don’t think I can fix it now.”

The others descend upon him immediately. “You’ve been dating? Behind our backs?! What kind of best friends are we that we didn’t know?” James declares.

“What kind of best friend is Thomas that he didn’t entrust us with such vital information?!” Matthew shoots back.

“You… wouldn’t have approved. I dare say you’d be glad to know it’s over,” he admits, and that only serves to break his heart further. He can’t even go to them for support because they’re part of the reason he did what he did, and-

-no, that isn’t fair. It isn’t their fault he put their comforts over his own. It isn’t their fault he wasn’t brave enough to talk to them about Alastair, and the fact that he still isn’t able to only further justifies that Alastair is better off not waiting around in case he never is.

“We would not,” Christopher says from the corner. He didn’t crowd Thomas like the others but as always, he’s listening even when he doesn’t appear to be. “We would never wish for something that upsets you.”

Thomas feels his pulse quicken as he considers - seriously considers - telling them. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to tell them now then go to Alastair and beg forgiveness. But what if they react poorly? What if they cast him aside, and Alastair doesn’t take him back, and he’s left with no one?

It’s the fear that stopped him every time before, and it serves to stop him again. His whole life he sought out little moments of quiet and isolation from an overbearing and doting family, but when it comes to the friends who are a permanent fixture in his life now he isn’t sure what he’d do without them by his side, and he isn’t keen on finding out.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing a night of drinking won’t solve. Come on, Matthew, let’s get another round,” Thomas says, hoping the distraction (and the promise of more alcohol) will be enough to shift the focus away from himself. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Come now,” Matthew says instead. “Don’t be embarrassed. Whoever she is, she can’t be any worse than the sort I’ve already brought ‘round the group.”

Thomas hesitates. The temptation to let the assumption pass by without correction is strong and he nearly gives into it. Nearly.

“He,” Thomas corrects softly.

Matthew’s expression softens from the casually teasing grin it had before. “Okay...” he says, processing that information for a moment. “That doesn’t matter to us. Right?” Matthew looks encouragingly at James and Christopher for support.

“Of course not,” Christopher agrees immediately.

“Matthew might be a little offended that you have a crush on someone other than him,” James says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “But other than that…”

“See. You don’t think we’d judge you for that, do you?” Matthew looks relieved that they’re all in agreement, and Thomas wishes he felt that same immediate relief.

“No,” Thomas admits. “I mean... Maybe that was part of it. But that wasn’t the main reason,” Thomas clarifies. He knows he’s said too much now, that he won’t be able to drop it here without explaining further, and the panic rises again. He knows that Alastair wanted them to go public when they were together, but what right does Thomas have to tell everyone about them now that they’re over? “I really don’t want to talk about it. It’s over. Just… let it be over.”

Thomas anticipates the look that passes between Will and Matthew even if he doesn’t look up to see it - the unspoken communication they’ve perfected over the years, Matthew’s silent desire to find out more but trusting Will to be the better judge of whether he really should or not.

Will seems to read the way Matthew’s entire body is tense and defensive, and Thomas catches him giving a single quick shake of his head to Matthew.

“Alright. We won’t bring it up again. But we’re here if you want to talk about it; if you change your mind and decide it’d help,” James adds.

Thomas nods, grateful. He knows that this is his chance to do that, one last moment before the topic drops to come clean… and then the conversation shifts, and the moment is gone.

---

Nearly a week later, on what would be the one month mark after ending things with Alastair, Thomas has to admit he isn’t doing great. He’s barely doing fine. He hasn’t been sleeping well or eating properly, and he’s on his second stamina rune just to get through his patrol that night. Mr. Herondale almost didn’t let him go, but Thomas insisted he was okay. He needs this to feel useful, to return to something close to normal. He needs the comfort of a routine again.

And maybe he would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the demon he happens to cross paths with. He spots the ichor first, tracking it to an alley, expecting to be able to take care of an already injured demon just fine. Except the demon isn’t injured, the blood was left as a trap - and the demon also isn’t alone. Thomas holds his own surprisingly well in his current condition, but that only lasts a few minutes before he takes his first hit, which leads to a second and third in rapid succession. Thomas stumbles as he tries to stand from where he fell, realizing he can’t feel his right leg where deep gashes leave his blood spilling onto the cobblestone below. He can’t see his side or left thigh at the moment but feels them in a similar state.

He can’t get up. Thomas struggles, but between the three injuries that leave him bleeding out on top of his already fatigued state, he can barely manage to prop himself up on his elbows, let alone stand. He watches the demon dive down at his chest with the knowledge that this is it, this is how he dies.

The demon sinks its teeth, sharp and ravenous, into Thomas’ chest… and then something pierces the demon’s head. No, not just something - a spear.

Thomas would know that spear anywhere, even as his vision begins to darken at the edges, blurring as the demon falls off of him. And then the demon’s face is replaced by Alastair’s, and Thomas feels the runes Alastair tries to draw on him, an iratze, an amisso… but Thomas can feel himself fading. He’s too injured, he’s losing too much blood too quickly.

“Hold on, Thomas,” Alastair mutters above him, but Thomas barely hears the words that sound so distant and muffled despite how close they are, despite the fact that Alastair is right there, his arms and the front of his shirt now covered in Thomas’ blood. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to wonder why he’s there, only to be thankful he gets to see him again.

“Alastair,” Thomas whispers. He barely manages the one word and isn’t sure how he’s going to manage the rest, but Alastair deserves to know. He needs to say it. Hell, he should’ve said it a month ago, and regretted his decision not to every single day since then. Each labored breath is an acute reminder that he’s out of days to waste on regret. “I-”

“Save your breath,” Alastair says, shushing him, but Thomas doesn’t listen.

“-lo-” Thomas continues, forcing the words out one at a time through gasps of air and shuddering coughs. Because this is important. And their breakup may have been his fault, but he needs Alastair to know what he meant to him - what he still means to him - if this is his last chance to say it.

“No,” Alastair says, shaking his head. Thomas can’t tell if there are tears in Alastair’s eyes or if that’s just his own vision blurring. “You don’t get to say that now. Stay with me, and you can tell me later. When you’re better.”

“-love you… too…” It takes the last of what little energy Thomas has left to force the words out. The moment he does darkness overtakes him, and he doesn’t feel the pain any longer, only peace.

[simon-newman]

Newman’s Anime Reviews - Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion

Hello and welcome again to the 2nd of my 2021 anime challenge review.

For February I’ve watched something that my friends were trying to make me watch for years.

It might actually be more than a decade that I’ve been putting this title off and they were quick to add this to my challenge list once the opportunity arised.

Were they right to recommend this title to me? Should I have watched this anime earlier? Those 10 years ago?

Perhaps. Still - I’m coming here with mixed feelings on this show. But… I’ll talk more about it in the review proper.

Today’s title is the 2006’s anime by Sunrise.

  Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion

  Now where do I even begin with this show? What even is this? What the hell is happening?

Well…

The Empire of Britannia is one of the 3 major political powers in the world of Code Geass - ruled by the Emperor Charles zi Britannia they invaded the country of Japan 10 years before the start of the plot.

Their absolute military dominance thanks to the use of cool mecha has led to unconditional surrender of Japan which is now known as Area 11.

It is there that our protagonist - Lelouch - the young Britannian student plans to take his revenge on the Emperor himself for what he’s done to him and his wheelchair-bound sister. 

I feel that it is important to put emphasis on this last part here because this is the ultimate motivation for our MC. Something that’ll drive him forward no matter what.

He wants to create a safe world for his sister. That’s it.

Need to protecc.

  The question that remains is: How?

How do a teenage boy banished to one of the colonies is supposed to change the world and cause a major power shift?

We get first glimpse at his supposed skill almost immediately - with Lelouch easily defeating an adult player in the game of chess. Nothing much so far but it’s an indication of his real power “shown” later on.

Lelouch is a genius… Or at least this is what the anime tries to convey to us. He is clearly smart and a gifted strategist with lots of charisma and a penchant for theatrics.

However - this is still not enough. That’s why something happens to push our protagonist forward at this stage. In a weird turn of events, a run in with anti-britannian terrorists and a top secret research subject Lelouch obtains the titular Geass.

What is a Geass? It is a power gifted to an individual which in case of Lelouch allows him to give anyone he establishes an eye contact with a single command that this person must follow.

This is actually one of the tame ones.

  From there on Lelouch joins and reforms the “terrorists” into “Black Knights” - a Rebellion led by his alter-ego the masked man called Zero - and starts executing his plan to take revenge… I mean to make the world a safe place for Nunnally.

From there we follow Lelouch as his Rebellion grows while he himself learns the limits and drawbacks of his power and tries his best to hide his identity as Zero.

Initially the show is quite entertaining - especially when it comes to battle scenes where we get to see Lelouch improbable planning and tactical skills at work. As for the other parts…

Yeah… I should have watched this show those 10 years ago because right now the parts with MC’s school life just don’t do this for me… They really slow down the plot and while they do serve the purpose of establishing various plot-important details it’s just... 

Well the pacing sucks.

Without any breaks and just the action sequences the anime would be very much rushed but the break parts at school just go on forever, developing into trivial stories used to deliver some little bit of exposition or character development. The balance is off and the show doesn’t get better until the mid point…

Speaking of which…

Nice mountain you’ve got there...

  There’s a major shift that happens somewhere in the mid-point of the anime that is bothering me to this day.

Who is the bad guy?

It might seem like a trivial question to many.

Obviously it’s Britannia! With their world conquest, asshole Emperor, warmongering royals, discrimination of conquered nations they call Numbers (in case of Japanese it’s “Elevens”) and engaging in wanton destruction and genocide for no good reason. They’re basically the Nazis.

With the above in mind there’s nothing wrong with Lelouch being willing to use all means at his disposal to achieve his goals… Right?

Monsters need to be stopped.

That was kinda the thing until the Battle of Narita where the Black Knights’ tactics caused the destruction of a town.

Now - this by itself could have been used to drive the point home with the Rebellion losing a lot of PR. After all the town was in the JLF controlled territory, inhabited by the Elevens and stuff…

Well. You see - the creators of the show didn’t think that was enough and/or missed the opportunity.

First of all - there’s no PR backlash for the Black Knights whatsoever. Nobody cares. The Britannian are now leading the rescue and recovery operations in the area and… It’s just weird. Why would they suddenly bother?

Secondly - it suddenly turns out that the people in the enemy-controlled territory were… Britannians? SOMEHOW. This is made to inflict personal level suffering to MC and some other characters as one of the character’s relatives dies in the event.

Third of all - after this very point there’s a major change. We no longer get to see Britannians committing atrocities but do get Lelouch crossing line after a line in the pursuit of his goals.

I think the creators realized that to make it appear more grey vs grey they can’t show Britannians as complete monsters but… It really doesn’t feel to occur naturally here. Were the person in charge of Britannians change again? Yes - I could accept that they are a better person than the previous leader. It isn’t so. And even if it was it wouldn’t undo their previous actions and made the characters that stayed seem really inconsistent.

It’s a major turn off for me when consistency in storytelling takes a back seat for a point to be made.

Because Zero’s not edgy enough without it I guess...

  There’s also another kind of inconsistency here when it comes to battles.

The cool mecha used by the Britannians are… Well. In the early parts they seem indestructible until the plot demands they’re not.

At first it seems that only other mecha have the weapons that can affect them. Then we see that some weapons do work BUT it is only when MC is commanding the battle.

It’s a magic wand that removes the plot armor from Britannians whenever Lelouch is there and often gives them to the allies.

Often - being the key word here.

One good thing is that it doesn’t stick. Plot-important characters don’t die but they are not immune to damage either. The mechas often get wrecked and require fixing. Lelouch himself is subject to this quite often as he’s not an outstanding pilot like others on his side.

It is thanks to that aspect of the action parts that the anime is not becoming one-sided and remains entertaining. You’re drawn to it to see what’s happening because it’s not just another battle.

Yes... Really entertaining battles...

  I think it is becoming apparent what’s the issue here.

There are a lot of things done wrong with this anime. Things that don’t necessarily break it but I can’t just overlook them. Things that are putting me off. Inconsistency, bad pacing, weird editing where some scenes are cut extremely abruptly - as if to reduce time. 

There’s also the usual issue of geniuses written by people who are not geniuses. Lelouch brilliancy is only guaranteed by the fact that people on the other side will do something stupid. Some of his actions are not the brightest and some are just downright stupid and easily could lead to his downfall were his enemies to have half a brain. Or worse - one action is such a poor choice it simply falls apart on it’s own - and you could expect it to the moment “it” happens (is there a point in keeping spoilers on this show? I’m talking about Geasing Shirley).

There’s also the braindead Suzaku - a subject so controversial on the Internet that I’ve hesitated to touch it here and decided to only reduce it to a small paragraph.

Yes. Suzaku is an idealistic foil to Lelouch. He serves his purpose. BUT. His idealism is stupid - not by the virtues he’s holding but by remaining blind to what is happening around him. He wants to end the discrimination without using violence but the Britannians are killing Elevens for no reason whatsoever. Time and time again the side he’s on goes against his principles and he still sticks to them. It is becoming less and less possible to emphasise with him with each incidence.

Still - there was a certain charm to this anime. It was fun to watch and only getting better the farther in I’ve gotten.

Not including the school drama.

All in all the score I was about to give was still going to be pretty low at this point. The anime was decent but far too flawed for my tastes… That was when the last story arc started.

The pizza...

  I must say. The rug was pulled from under my feet.

Those events were really unexpected. Emotionally draining and yet entertaining as nothing before in this show.

So many lines have been crossed in an instant - there was no return. Not anymore. Shit was happening and it was a spectacle to watch. Some men just want to see the world burn. Duh. I watched events unfold and I enjoyed it very much until the very end.

The end of a 1st season that assured I WILL watch the 2nd one when I find the time (I didn’t so that it wouldn’t affect this review).

All in all - the show’s grand finale is the high point that offsets all the problems I’ve talked about earlier. It is simply done perfectly.

And speaking of endings. It is time to finally end this review as well...

 Final Score: 7/10  

Status: Completed Season 1

Sentence: Lelouch vi Britannia commands you: Watch Season 2!

Previous: Kimetsu no Yaiba

[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

hi!!! can i get an x-men shift please? i’m bi (but hetero leaning) and use she/her pronouns. i’m a sagittarius, INTP, and am super into pop culture, movies tv shows music stuff like that. i’m an introvert, pretty shy at first but once you get to know me i’m pretty funny and kinda an asshole. i’m 5’7”, plus size and curvy, with longish wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and wear black glasses. i dress pretty comfy, jeans and t-shirts, sweatshirts, but i also have a leather jacket when i want to look more put together. mostly wear vans and converse. i love taylor swift, star wars, and all the superhero movies out there. i honestly don’t know what my mutation would be, i’ve never found one that fits right i guess. can’t wait to see who i’m paired with! love your blog, and thank you :)

I ship you with Peter Maximoff!

Warning: ✨contains swear words, mentions of being high, and grammatical errors probably✨

Peter is the type of person who thinks of bold and outrageous plans, but is horrible at executing them.

This is especially apparent now that he is part of the X-Men, because of the high stakes that often come hand and hand with these plans.

Yet at this moment, standing in front of you, attempting to respond to your simple and reasonable question, he feels as though the stakes of this plan are higher than any other he has previously made.

You and Peter were very close, most of you X-Men were. Shared trauma bonded you all like a family. So you were very comfortable around each other, like the: "We literally laugh at each other's farts and say 'love ya!' When one of us leaves a room." comfortable, so it concerned you that he seemed so nervous. You repeated your, as previously stated, simple and reasonable question.

"Peter, what the fuck."

You were mid-way through Empire Strikes Back when he first appeared, standing in front of the TV. Generally, when someone is watching a movie alone with the volume level barely audible, at 2 AM in the morning, they do not expect to be interrupted, but there he was. Interrupting you.

So you had asked him if he wanted to watch the movie with you and he said no.

Then you asked him if something was wrong and he said no.

But after he had stood in front of the television long enough for you to have paused the movie, you had come to the conclusion that he was messing with you. Hence the two "what the fuck"s.

He finally responded, seemly returning to his body after his brain's small vacation to who knows where.

"I need to talk to you about something important, and I wanted it to go a certain way but that way never actually happens so I'm doing it another way." Well, that was even more incoherent than his usual sentences.

"Wait- are you high again?"

"No! No. Well, maybe a little- but that's not the point."

"Sure, now what's going on."

"We're like... technically co-workers because of us being X-Men and shit, right?"

"If Bat-Man and Robin are co-workers, then yes."

"Don't be self-deprecating, you're way cooler than a silly side-kick."

You raised your eyebrows at him, "I wasn't Robin in that analogy, but thank you."

"Wait, I'm Robin?"

"You are a grown man who just used the world silly un-ironically, and I feel like that's something Robin would do. Just to clarify I don't know shit about Bat-man."

"Hey I'm barely a grown man- I'm not 25 yet, that would entail being a grown man, and I've got time 'till then! Anyway, stop going off-topic."

"Then move on from being weirdly defensive about being an adult in the eyes of the state."

"Touché. So, we're co-workers."

"Correct. What's the point."

"That's a problem."

"Why?"

"Well, ok this needs to be prefaced so consider this me shushing you in a respectful and not sexist way. You have been shushed."

"...Ok?"

"Shh! Now I get to ramble. So you know movies?" He gestured towards the school's collection of movies that sat next to the tv, and you nodded confused. "So in these movies, things happen certain ways, but those certain ways seem just as scary as the opposite of those ways." Yeah, he was totally high. "So, wow I'm starting so many sentences with the word 'so'. Anyway- I want to tell you something but I don't want it to be like a movie but I don't want it to be like not in a movie either. So I just want to say it then leave. Like- I'm going to run after I say it. Is that okay? You are temporarily un-shushed."

"If you're dying it's not, but if it's basically anything else then yeah. Go for it, you speedy coward."

"Cool. I mean- the nickname hurt but cool. Cool." He looked at you for a second. "Can you like... turn around?"

"Turn around?"

He now acknowledged that that was an odd thing to ask. "...Yeah. Is that dumb?"

"No, no, I'll turn around." To lighten the awkward mood, you made a joke. "A reasonable price for your terrible secrets to be revealed to me." It was not a very funny joke, but you tried your best and earned a (pity) scoff from him.

You were now both sitting criscrossed on the couch, facing the same direction. You were staring at a wall you found very uninteresting, and he was staring at the back of the head belonging to a person he found very interesting.

"So- basically I think you're... pretty..." He said the word intending to add another adjective after it, like 'cool', but he decided against it because that would be stupid. "And I have this problem where when I figure out I want to, quote-unquote, date someone, which is a gross word, by the way, I'm always friends with them. That means it has to be this dramatic thing. But I don't want it to be! You know? I just want to tell you that I have a stupid crush on you like a normal person. And- that's why I suddenly started hating training, because who likes to see people they want to smooch almost fake die, huh? No one! That's who! And I want to explain why I like you, but whenever I talk to Wanda about you, I always end up describing you the way a first grader describes their crush! Like: she's pwetty and smawt or whatever but that's fuckin' dumb. I guess that makes sense because I don't have crushes on people ever, and I barely dated in school, so I have no idea how to do this and I just want to pass you one of those 'hey, do you like me?!' notes with the fuckin' checkmarks!! And I am an adult person who is kind of afraid of kissing! What?!? Also, I don't have abs like Scott! Or boobs, and I know you like people with or without boobs and boobs are great! Also, to backtrack, don't think that I think you would go for Scott, even though if you were to, I would be supportive of you, but also sad because I would prefer if you went for me! So I want to be normal. Normal like the people in movies who meet someone cute and ask them out and not like the movies with the big stupid confessions. Trust me, if I had noticed that I whatever you like a year ago, I would have asked you out! Well no I wouldn't of because I would be too afraid to talk to you. But anyway I made you this," He reached around you and handed you a folded-up note. "Don't open it until I run away, but just leave it here with your response. If you check no, I bet if we paid Jean enough money she would erase this interaction from our brains. I only have seven dollars but I'm betting on a 'friends and family' discount. But.. if you say yes, I can ask you out like a dick in a movie, knowing you'll say yes because I am a speedy coward. I want you to call me a speedy coward when I do cowardly shit speedily, then do this cute thing where you'd be like 'but you're my speedy coward''. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. Love ya, but in the way we always said it beforehand, not in a dramatic confession way. Sorry I delved into my childhood there. Bye." You felt him awkwardly pat your back.

There was a gust of wind that ruffled your hair, and you knew he had run away.

You lifted the note up, mind empty, still processing everything he had rambled to you, and started carefully unfolding it.

It was one of his previously mentioned "Do you like me?" notes.

You willed yourself not to straight-up giggle like a 12-year-old at his note. It was messily written, and clearly on the back of a mission briefing.

Shit, you didn't have a pen. You looked under the couch cushions but there was no form of a writing utensil in sight! The audacity.

You knew Peter well enough to know that he was probably not too far away, waiting for the result of his question and trying not to spy.

"Hey... uh... Peter? I don't have a pen."

Peter hit his forehead with his hand, where the fuck was he going to get a pen? It's not like he owned pens that were actually in a designated spot! How ridiculous would that be, who did he look like, Charles? Charles! Charles has pens in designated pen places!

So Peter ran into the headmaster's office and found a pen. He wrote a small note stating that he borrowed a pen and that he would return it. Looking at the note Peter found it did not fully encapsulate the desperate need for the pen. The note ended up something like this:

Hey Charles! It's Peter! I took borrowed a pen because a very serious situation manner situation has arised. arisen. From, Peter. You can't get mad at me because if you could legally marry my dad you would be married and I would basically be your step son! Thanks half dad!

He thought the addition of the 'step' in stepson effectively hid the fact that Charles was a father figure of his. What was he doing here again? The serious manner!

In an instant of you telling Peter that you did not have a pen, one appeared.

"Thank you!"

You checked the yes box, but had a want to write something adorable. You couldn't think of anything so you just wrote "This was weird." under your checkmark. Well played.

You entertained the idea of resuming your movie but decided against it, you thought it would be more dramatic if you left the room.

The minute you made your exit Peter sprinted into the room. He opened your note, jumped, pumped his fist in the air, realized that was nerdy, and tried to make a cool pose to recover.

Now he just had to figure out how the fuck he was going to ask you out.

[kainetestament]

Deciphering Peter’s conversation with Wanda

1. Wanda tried to test Peter by asking him about the name of the boy that has a skin problem who always steal his shoes to which Peter counter “You’re testing me.” And has successfully divert the conversation by telling her “I know I look different.” Wanda do feel his brother is not the same brother she remembers. That even us viewers wonder why Peter and not Pietro is present? Though I do have a theory about that and talk about below.

2.  “I'm just trying to do my part, okay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the brother-in-law, stir up trouble with the rugrats, and ultimately give you grief. I mean, that's what you wanted, isn't it?” For these sentences, it kind of look like someone is speaking for him (like he’s possessed). Peter gave off the ‘mischievous elder brother’ or possibly has a sister complex as seen X-Men Days of Future Past. If this is really him, giving Wanda a grief will definitely be the last thing he’ll do, pranking her? Maybe, like what he did when Vision left the house and sneak up on her back on Episode 6.

3. Peter said “Details are fuzzy, man. I got shot like a chump on the street for no reason at all and the next thing I know, I heard you calling me. I knew you needed me.” And Wanda has a confused look on her face. Also, If we go on FANDOM, Wanda’s profile has been updated and one of the updates the user add was “He told her that he heard her calling him after he was shot by Ultron, and that he knew she needed him.” First of all, whoever made an update, none of Peter’s words mentioned Ultron, and didn’t imply Ultron as well, second Pietro was not shot for no reason at all, Ultron was firing bullets from Quinjet and Pietro have to save Hawkeye and the kid he’s holding, Peter on the other hand phrase it as “no reason at all”, so I don’t believe it’s anything related to Ultron.

Let’s translate what Peter just said, “I got shot like a chump on the street” – if we are to simplify this sentence, he could meant he’s running (as usual) on the street and got knocked down because he’s an easy target (after all, chump means a foolish or easily deceived person), or someone stopped him from running then he was hit by something, then when he’s trying to understand what happened, he can hear in his head his sister calling him, in probably mournful voice because he claimed “I knew you needed me.” Because before he appeared, when Wanda mentions Pietro (in past tense), she was still smiling, almost indicating she was able to move on from his passing, then when was asked by Tommy if Wanda have a brother, she now spoke of him in present tense “He’s far away from here, and that makes me sad sometimes.” – this could probably be what he meant when he say “I heard you calling me. I knew you needed me.” Because Wanda is now reminiscing the Pietro, and could possibly be now in denial with him and she wants to see him. We don’t know what’s going on in X-Men Universe and hell Earth-616 is one confusing world. Retelling it here in MCU that X-Men could probably be from different multiverse will make it less confusing as well.

Also Wanda was not officially introduced in X-Men Universe, but on the delete scene of Days of Future Past, Ms Maximoff (their mom) said to her youngest “Go upstairs and bug your sister”, implying (and confirmed by the director) that the “sister” is Wanda and she does exists in X-Men world, Peter being the eldest of the siblings, have a big brotherly love for his younger siblings so he easily got brainwashed and was summoned to Earth 616, we can only theorize that Mephisto discovered him as he was travelling thru the multiverse (as per his comics abilities), discovered Wanda and Pietro. Who knows if Wanda of X-Men Universe is alive or dead, but we can try and think, why this Wanda? If Mephisto has the ability to travel to the multiverse, he can chose Wanda of other multiverse too. Is it because of her involvement with the Infinity Stone? So this Wanda is so special because she is able to mother twins without a man’s help? We just have to wait for 2 more episodes for answers.

Also on top of Wanda not being introduce X-Men Universe, FOX changed Pietro’s name to Peter because MCU is also introducing another Pietro, but in MCU, they killed Pietro, this is probably due to copyrights restrictions (between Disney and FOX) because both Pietro and Wanda can appear on both franchise with some restrictions, which makes sense why there’s only Wanda in MCU and only Peter in X-Men World to avoid referencing the restrictions due to legal rights. Now that the Multiverse is being introduced, they can now cross Peter from X-Men World to MCU as a mutant (vice versa) and can also be referred to as Magneto’s children since the restrictions have been lifted. Although another possibility that the MCU killed Pietro is because MCU and FOX already planned ahead for a possible future Multiverse since way back, once the First Generation of Avengers retires (Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, etc.), that is possibly the time they can introduce the mutants. Because if the First Generation is still present when the Mutants arrive, it could destroy the balance of the super heroes line up and the MCU might become a trash of super hero franchise, which of course they won’t want that to happen. By killing Pietro on the other hand, can actually be both a risk and advantage. MCU’s researchers have definitely done their job well and study other products that involved alternate dimension/reality/timeline. In my point of view (as an otaku), when I watched these type of anime with alternate dimensions/reality/timeline, it does feel weird especially if the character meets her/her counterpart, like in Dual!! Parallel Trouble Adventure where both Mitsuki have actually met (I only remember parts of the story, so I won’t go deeper into this), the awkwardness is kind of hard to watch… So killing Pietro might’ve been the best decision, because keeping both characters and later meets up will not only cause awkwardness but the viewers might also find it weird. With no offense to ATJ but unlike his, Evan Peters’ QS have more cool scenes, his running in the kitchen is definitely a big wow, Age of Ultron didn’t showcase much any cool moves, we do see the slow motions around him and his afterimage, but the kitchen scene looks way more cooler, and personally for me, I find his break in Magneto scene (the glass shattering and escaping the guards) much more satisfying than anything...

Evan Peters could’ve also been given instructions by FOX of him possibly appearing/joining the MCU in the future because in an interview with the X-Men Apocalypse cast on MTV After Hours, Peter (Evan Peters) comment to Cyclops (Tye Sheridan) “Just because you wear shades, doesn’t make you cool.” In which Cyclops responded with “Just because your name is Quicksilver, doesn’t make you an Avenger.” And Peter responded back with “You know, legally I’m not able to respond to that.” Also during Dark Phoenix interviews, Evan Peters was nervous yet silently freaking out, almost like Tom Holland trying to  avoid telling anything. In the interview with New Trailer Buzz, Evan Peters was ask  to say the first thing that come to his mind like Wolverine = claws, Marvel = X-Men, Magneto = metal, Charles Xavier = wheelchair, then when as SCARLET WITCH – he pause and almost choke and said nervously “okay” and started to laugh, then was asked about cross-over and he responded with sweet, although compared to his previous answers where it only took less than 1sec to respond, the word SCARLET WITCH and CROSS-OVER definitely gave him a scare as he was probably be in talks but is of course not allowed to disclose.

If we think about it back then, we can probably just dismissed it as part of the restrictions between Disney and FOX, but Kevin Feige did mention before that everything is plan even up to 5 years, and X-Men to be in talks for the future multiverse is not impossible and of course they will not disclose that information (to actors let alone media), and what are the odds of killing Pietro in MCU and not introducing Wanda in X-Men.

 I will wait for Episode 8 for the next WandaVision update ‘cause it really hard to assume.