#somehow she’s been in every call for the last century

[dr-senpai13]

Robin is simply unfazed by buster calls at this point… someone get her therapy

[no-144444]

the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

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You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right? 

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body. 

Sounds like you have it all. 

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named. 

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price. 

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans. 

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress. 

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?” 

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood. 

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in. 

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes. 

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together. 

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore. 

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day. 

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You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back. 

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!” 

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed. 

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is. 

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows. 

But the worst part was that nobody noticed. 

“He's right y’know,” Oscar  smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off. 

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock. 

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh. 

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off. 

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break. 

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back. 

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone. 

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Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?” 

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to. 

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison. 

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded. 

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad. 

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album, 

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that. 

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there. 

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you. 

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face. 

Lando was entranced. 

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part. 

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new. 

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably. 

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them. 

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door. 

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock. 

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone. 

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back. 

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on. 

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly. 

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily. 

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room. 

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you. 

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t. 

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock. 

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet. 

You sat up, staring at him. 

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.” 

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell. 

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off. 

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground? 

“Oh,” he breathed out. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.” 

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence. 

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied. 

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time. 

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

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Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going. 

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

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The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later. 

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not. 

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Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight. 

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room. 

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it,  but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings. 

“What?” he groaned, opening the door. 

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted. 

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed. 

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?” 

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen? 

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare. 

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded. 

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage. 

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect. 

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up. 

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You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be. 

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew. 

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season. 

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound. 

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled. 

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet. 

The perfect night. 

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He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage. 

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter. 

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs. 

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press. 

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did. 

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered. 

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it. 

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him. 

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari. 

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

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari. 

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you. 

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

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random. 

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!” 

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred. 

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!” 

“Yes!” you agreed. 

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

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time. 

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

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before. 

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily. 

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

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

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes. 

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door. 

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way. 

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

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober. 

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando. 

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch. 

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

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come. 

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie. 

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line. 

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do. 

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

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.  

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question. 

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning. 

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not. 

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him. 

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world. 

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in. 

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped. 

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people. 

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic. 

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back. 

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would. 

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door. 

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it. 

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

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landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Destiny is all

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: it's almost a tradition now 😊 and it's always so much fun and so easy to work with you – my creative and talented beloved cowriter @little-diable 💖 Thank you for sharing this gorgeous idea and thank you for writing it with me.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fluff, angst

Summary: Reading a new book is always exciting, sparking one's imagination with endless possibilities contained within its pages. But if you had known what unexpected turn of destiny awaited after turning that first page, would you have still dared to open its ancient, weathered cover?

Word Count: 6,3 K

The shop was dimly lit, only a few yellowish lights managed to flood the endless rows of bookshelves, filled with prints one could no longer buy in other bookshops. Your fingertips tingled as you stroked them along the spines of the old books, taken up by a giddy feeling as if the books were whispering to you, telling stories of old times that once were but no longer are. 

“Are you alright, dear?” The elderly shop owner’s voice ripped you out of your daze, having to blink a few times to try and clear your head. You could only nod your head with a soft smile glued to your lips – this was pure heaven for you, a history-loving soul desperate to fill your mind with old stories of people you were researching. 

“Have you already explored the medieval section back there?” It wasn’t your first time in the shop, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but you hadn’t ever explored that section, not finding the time to get properly lost in these tales. 

“I haven’t! Anything you can recommend?” You followed the woman to the section she had pointed towards, unable to stop your gasps as she showed you the leatherbound books that were centuries old. Even though they weren’t in your price range, you couldn’t help but look at them, carefully thumbing through them with awe laced in your gaze. 

“Here, this has always been a favourite of mine. Have you heard of Uhtred of Bamburgh before?” Slowly, you shook your head as you took the small booklet from her hand. It seemed to be a reprint, covering faded-out writings with newer ones. “I think you may find his story fascinating.” 

With a quick look at the handwritten price tag, you tightened your grip on the booklet, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to leave it behind. It felt as if it were whispering to you, calling for you to carefully listen to the secrets it wanted to share with you. And with another stroke along its spine, you let go of a soft, “I’ll take it.”

Your eyes were focused on your living room windows, watching the setting sun with a cup of tea held between your palms. The purchase you made earlier was lying next to you on your couch, begging you to explore it. But something was holding you back, something that forced you to hold still, trying to sort through your confusing thoughts. 

Soft music filled your apartment, cosying you along in old Norse, telling of warriors, battles won, and bloodshed. With a deep exhale clawing through you, almost as if you were preparing for a battle yourself, you placed your cup down, only to reach for the thin booklet. 

“Alright, Uhtred. Who were you?” It didn’t take long for the story to pull you in, managing to fascinate you from the first page on. Somehow, it felt as if you were reading the story of an old friend, somebody you had once known, letting an unfamiliar mix of emotions rise deep inside of you. 

The tale of Uhtred’s life grew darker with every page, telling you about his first family, those set to kill him, turning towards the fire that killed members of his second loving family, and eventually to King Alfred. Something told you that Alfred took up some third father-like figure to the young warrior, another battle Uhtred had been asked to fight – next to the wars he had successfully won. 

Halfway through the book, you had to place it down, unable to focus on another detail of war strategies and analysis of Uhtred’s fighting style. Your eyes wandered back towards the windows as your thumb kept stroking the old paper that had a weird feeling to it. It felt as if the original substance of the book had been mixed with new paper, torn between different centuries.

As your eyes found back towards the page your thumb was stroking, you froze up. You found yourself staring at some kind of scribblings, handwritten words that hadn’t been there minutes ago. Your mind was racing as you deciphered the medieval writing, grateful for all these transcription courses you had taken. 

For years, I have followed Uhtred - the Dane slayer, the Kingmaker, the Heathen, the greatest warrior to ever walk the lands of Wessex, Mercia, and beyond. A man whose deeds are destined to be forgotten, his name erased from the chronicles, banished from the memories of those he bled for. For it shall not be recorded that the greatness of Alfred was built upon Uhtred's broad shoulders. But I bear witness to this truth.

It is my sacred honour and burdensome duty to transcribe the tale of unswerving loyalty and sage counsel, of unflinching bravery and brazen defiance, but most of all, the tale of a friendship forged in the unrelenting storms of suffering and pain, as equally as by shared joy and laughter. A bond that carried us through life's journey cradled in its calloused yet gentle hands.

In this year of our Lord's blessed incarnation 896, being the 25th year of the reign of Alfred, King of the West Saxons, I, Osferth, set quill to parchment to weave our tale...

You rubbed your eyes in awe, transfixed by the words that seemed to float untethered before you. With a reverent breath, you plunged back into reading, devouring page after page that unveiled a rich tapestry of events - battles clashing like tides, alliances forged in desperation only to be treacherously abandoned, kings risen and just as abruptly dethroned, sacred oaths sworn solemnly yet shattered without remorse.

And as your fingers trailed along the final lines of each turned page, you felt the aged, yellowed vellum shudder beneath your questioning gaze and as if sensing your yearning for more the book yielded to your unspoken plea. The uneven scratchings of the young monk's hand shimmered into view, revealing a remarkable story, a tale more astonishing than the chronicles of England's bloody birth.

It was not the tale about the glory of battles or the intricate ways the powerful played with the people's fates that enraptured and didn’t let go, but the tale of an extraordinary friendship moulded between the most unlikely of companions. A lord severed from his birthright, an Irish prince bearing the burdens of his brother's cruelty, a bastard Dane haunted by the atrocities of his kin, and a fallen monk walking the perilous line between his vows to God and the warrior’s path.

You couldn't deny that the more you read, the more your attention was drawn to the young Dane’s tale, as you followed his journey from an endearingly insecure but headstrong youth ready to fight for his place at Uhtred's side, to a hardened and cunning warrior - Uhtred's trusted companion and artful spy.

"Sihtric, the Dane boy looks like a rat," you murmured under your breath. "Mismatched eyes, one dark and one pale. Unruly curls the very shade of a raven's wing. The strongest and most formidable arms in all the shires, and beneath that muscled, battle-hardened shell… a heart yearning for love's tender embrace,” you smiled, recalling bits and pieces of Osferth’s descriptions.

"I wonder what you truly looked like, Sihtric? What kind of a man were you in the flesh?" You whispered softly, trying to conjure every nuanced detail committed to parchment by the young monk's quill. 

You closed your eyes, trying to picture the fierce Danish warrior in your mind's eye, as you imagined a powerful, muscular man with a furrowed brow and striking, contrasting eyes that seemed to miss nothing. 

"Lady? Lady, are you alright?" An unknown voice suddenly shattered your reverie. You startled, eyes fluttering wide open as your heart pounded with fear. The scream that ripped through you was shrill, a sound so unexpected the man instantly took a step away. 

With your body trembling, you sat up, letting your eyes take in the unfamiliar surroundings. You were surrounded by trees while sitting on the mossy ground. Had the man kidnapped you from your apartment? Had he dragged you out here to do god knows what?

“Where am I? Who are you?” Panic dripped from your voice as you spoke. You allowed yourself to take him in, the mismatched eyes, the dark curls, even the necklace he wore, shaped in some kind of a “T”. 

“Are you sick, lady?” The man crouched down in front of you as his concerned eyes took in your features, seemingly trying to find wounds, scratches or something else. You could only shake your head, slowly realising that he was carrying a weapon, though no gun like you had expected, but a sword. 

“I won’t ask again, who are you? And why aren’t I at home, in my apartment?” Confusion tugged on his features, he seemingly was just as lost as you were. This felt like a nightmare, some dream you were now stuck in and couldn’t escape. 

“My name is Sihtric, lady. I’m afraid I don’t know where your home is nor where apartment lies. We are in Mercia.” He studied you for another moment before he reached his hand out for you to take. “Here, let me help you up.”

Slowly, you gave in, letting him pull you to your feet, and instantly taking a step away from him. Your surroundings were spinning as your mind kept racing. This must be some dream, something that the story had pushed through you as it couldn’t be a coincidence that you were now standing in front of the very Sihtric you had read about. 

“So if you are Sihtric, are you travelling with Osferth? With Uhtred? Even with Finan?” Sarcasm dripped from your words, followed by the hysterical chuckles you couldn’t swallow. Whatever this was, it felt all too surreal, something your mind could barely grasp. 

Just as Sihtric parted his lips to reply, his name was called by a man who appeared with his sword raised and his hard gaze set on your features. You gave yourself a moment to study him, the short brown hair, the muscular arms exposed by the armour he wore, somewhat matching Sihtric’s. 

“Is she sick?” His Irish accent instantly told you that this must be Finan, but his question distracted you from any other detail you could pick up on. Sick? You didn’t know much about sicknesses in earlier periods, but you knew enough to understand that sicknesses were much deadlier in the past than they were for you with modern medicine. 

“I don’t think so.” Sihtric shot you a soft smile before he turned towards Finan, “She’s no threat, lower your sword.”

But Finan didn’t move, he kept staring you down, taking your clothes that were all too different to theirs, forcing you to stand out even further. Without moving too much, you tried to pinch yourself to wake from this strange dream, but no matter how hard you tugged on your arm, nothing changed, you were still standing on the same spot, close to the two men.

“The sickness will kill us all! Leave her here, I don’t trust strangers to tell the truth.” Finan turned from you as if he expected Sihtric to blindly follow the command. But Sihtric didn’t follow him, at least not before softly taking your hand to pull you with him. 

“Come, let’s find Uhtred, he will want to meet you, lady.” 

Still certain that this was just a vivid dream, you allowed yourself to be led by the firm grip of Sihtric's calloused palm against yours, wondering what other fantastical tricks your obviously overactive mind had prepared.

"Who is this?" Uhtred's voice rumbled deeply with a distinct accent. You recognized him instantly because of the iconic sword slung across his back - The Serpent's Breath - its hilt adorned with an amber stone, just as described in Osferth's records.

"I found her sleeping in the woods, Lord," Sihtric replied, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "The lady seems quite lost." He leaned in closer to Uhtred, lowering his voice though you could still hear, "She speaks of strange things and appears to know who we are."

You laughed lightly. "Of course I know who you are. I've read all about you." This earned you a strange nod and sympathetic shrug from Sihtric, as if he thought you addled. In truth you  were already starting to question your own sanity as your knees began to wobble and you slumped down onto a nearby giant tree root.

As much as you wished to wake from this strange dream, you remained unable to. So you just sat there, witnessing the hushed discussion between the medieval warriors, catching their furtive, suspicious glances cast your way.

You could make out a few words - Finan suggesting they leave you behind, afraid your evident madness was a sign of sickness. But Sihtric argued against abandoning a confused lady alone in the wilderness. You weren't sure which option you preferred, as both seemed equally perilous - travelling with these savage strangers to an unknown destination, or being left alone in the vast forest.

"The lady comes with us," Uhtred's verdict reached your ears. "We can't leave her and risk our pursuers discovering which way we've gone."

"But Lord..." Finan tried to interject, only to be silenced by Uhtred's stern gaze as another woman appeared from the trees, accompanied by three children and two young monks.

"We've refilled the flasks from the stream," she said, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"We have company," Uhtred explained, turning towards you. "Lady, are you good with children?"

“Children? No, I'm not," you exclaimed, remembering the last time you visited your sister when your five-year-old nephew managed to slip a farting pillow beneath you as you were seated at the dinner table with guests over. You had no idea until you shifted in your seat, causing the pillow to loudly blast a sound that made you freeze. Your face flushed beet red as the other guests tried to stifle their laughter while that small devil in disguise found it hysterical, rolling on the floor in a fit of giggles. 

"Well, we aren't either," Uhtred shrugged, and the decision was apparently settled.

The wild run through the woods, with only the vast sky as the roof overhead and fallen leaves serving as a bed, had been exhausting. Yet, you found yourself astonished by the unexpected company you were forced to travel with. Everything you had read about these men, now serving as both your guards and protectors, seemed to ring true. 

A wry laugh escaped your lips as you caught yourself thinking that after centuries of hard-fought battles for women's emancipation and equal rights, it took an extraordinary twist of fate to transport you into the midst of the Middle Ages, to finally encounter men who regarded you not as an object to be possessed or used.

"Lady, tell me more about your home. Where do you hail from?" Sihtric settled beside you, handing you the flask filled with water.

While Finan maintained a wary distance, likely still unconvinced of the absence of any impending danger that you might be carrying the sickness within you, Sihtric was the polar opposite. The young and handsome Dane, with his striking half-shaved hairstyle that allowed dark locks to curl freely on one side, seemed genuinely drawn to you. More importantly, he appeared to believe you when you attempted to explain that you were not from here, not even from a distant land or kingdom.

Even if the concept of time travel was something he was unable to grasp, for which you couldn’t blame him, Sihtric's curiosity remained piqued, and he was eager to learn more about the strange place you called home. 

"Please, tell us about those weird carriages that drive alone without being pulled by a horse," Aethelstan pleaded, seating himself on the ground before you. You smiled, amused by the fact that boys remained boys across centuries. However, before you could begin your tale, you felt the small and fragile frame of Aelfwynn carefully cuddling against your side, her thin and icy hands wrapping around your waist as if seeking solace in the warmth of your body.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, and for a brief moment, you savoured the serenity and strange calmness that enveloped you. Unnoticed, against every expectation, these children had enchanted you from the very first day of your unexpected journey.

Aethelstan, a solemn young boy far too serious for his age, gazed at you with wide, inquisitive eyes carrying a deep sadness. When you had simply asked his name, his response astounded you - "I'm no one," he uttered, as if it were something normal, even self-evident.

His quiet sobs woke you in the night. Though asleep, tears covered his cheeks as his small body shook, a soft cry slipping out, "Mummy, where are you? Don't leave me alone." You moved closer, fingers soothingly running through his hair. Suddenly, his little arms wrapped around you. With his nose buried in your chest, a shy smile graced his lips as he calmed, his breathing turning smooth and even. Not knowing what else to do, you just held him a little tighter, watching his small, thin face lighten in the dim light of the fading moon, his eyes tightly shut, wishing you could do something to shield him from this harsh world.

But it was Aelfwynn who worried you even more. She was a lovely, timid child, so beautiful and yet so fragile. It was evident the arduous journey on foot through the woods, meadows, hills and valleys was taking its toll on her. She grew paler with each passing day, her hands like ice, yet every time she pressed herself against you, you could feel her body burning. 

"We need to rest more. The children can't keep up this pace," you said worriedly to Sihtric after finishing your fanciful story about cars. Both Aethelstan and Aelfwynn had listened with mouths agape, as if you had spun the most fantastical fairy tale.

Sihtric's gaze lingered on you perhaps a moment too long, his eyes radiating warmth, before turning away. "You speak truly," he finally replied, "but we dare not linger. We are being pursued. Every mile we put between us and our pursuers could mean the difference between life and death. One of your marvellous self-driving carriages would be quite useful now." He gave you a small smile before rising and heading to Uhtred.

You were relieved to see Sihtric had indeed conveyed your concerns, as the following days were considerably less strenuous, with more pauses for rest. Still, Aelfwynn's condition worsened until her waning strength required her to be carried from time to time. It was often Sihtric who first noticed the pain contorting the small girl's face, offering his broad back without prompting, and you found yourself musing at how accurately Osferth's descriptions had painted his strong, but caring and observant friend.

The tender attentiveness Sihtric showed towards everybody contrasted sharply with his imposing warrior's build hinting that there were evident depths to this man beyond his formidable exterior.

Your hand squeezed Aelfwynn's small palm tighter as you dragged her along, feeling her stumble and whine painfully as she tumbled to the ground. You pulled her back to her feet, running for your lives as the thundering hooves of pursuers closed in. Fear propelled you forward, even as your strength waned with each stumbling step of the frantic flight.

Aelfwynn stumbled again, and suddenly strong arms scooped her up.

"Run, lady! Don't stop!" Sihtric's voice urged. You didn't need telling twice, feet pounding the earth until the frenzied hunt came to an abrupt halt at the river's edge. Blood rushed deafening in your ears as your eyes frantically jumped from armed man to armed man surrounding your small company, bows drawn taut. A feeling of doom crept in.

You felt two pairs of small, trembling arms wrap around your waist from each side. Placing your hands on their shoulders, you carefully shoved both Aethelstan and Aelfwynn behind you, taking a resolute step forward ready to shield them with your own body if necessary as Uhtred and the others lined up before you.

"Lady, take it," Sihtric said, extending his arm with a hunting knife behind his back. You reached out, trembling fingers wrapping around the hilt, but he didn't relinquish his grip, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Use with care, I'll want it back." His mismatched eyes bored into yours as he let go, the weight of the dagger settling into your palm along with the calming effect of his words.

With no other hope, you clung to those simple words like a lifeline in a storming sea, pooling all your strength and courage into your balled fist clutching the unfamiliar weapon, while you watched the bizarre scene unfold before you, hope rising from nowhere as Eadith confronted her brother, accusing him of murdering his lord.

"Lady, you are full of surprises," Sihtric's warm voice cut through the haze as you felt his rough fingers gently brush yours, wrapping around your hand and helping you finally loosen your white-knuckled grip on the dagger. "It's over, we are safe for now."

He carefully took the knife, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "And you told us you are not good with children," the warrior smiled, his gaze hovering over Aethelstan and Aelfwynn still clinging to you.

"Are you sure this will help?" The uncertainty in Sihtric's voice mirrored the doubt clearly visible in everyone's eyes.

"The only thing I'm sure of is that if we do nothing, she may not survive until morning," you pleaded, your gaze moving from Sihtric to Eadith and the others. "We have to lower her fever."

"Lord, if this is the sickness, only God can help her...and us," Finan voiced the fear they all silently harboured.

"I don't care," you whispered, tears shining in the corners of your eyes. "Just bring me linens soaked in cool stream water and find the herbs. I'm staying with her, and I'll do the rest. I'm not afraid." You turned to go to the room where Aelfwynn had been placed.

For you, there was no reason to believe she had contracted the dreaded sickness, but there was little you could explain about infectious diseases to your companions. You understood their fear, but you were by no means ready to give up and leave the child's life to fate. Perhaps this was the reason you had been brought here - to use your modern knowledge to save the life so miraculously entrusted to you. 

The village you had finally reached was nearly abandoned, fear of the sickness driving away all but some elderly inhabitants too feeble to travel or too stubborn to be driven from their lifelong homes. The ancient grandmother who had offered you all shelter in her humble dwelling seemed bent by age, her face and arms weathered by wrinkles, yet her eyes remained kind and warm.

"Don't just stand there gawking. You heard the lady - willow bark, elderflower, linden, and meadowsweet. Go!" the old woman commanded, bony finger pointing at Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric. "Don't fret, child, I'll help you. I'm too old to fear the final caller."

It was Eadith who first snapped out of the solemn, lingering silence. "Osferth - you're coming with me to the stream to fetch cool water," she ordered, and as if by a magic wand, everyone sprang into action.

"I will prepare the different herbal teas as you instructed and bring everything to you. We cannot let her die. She is the future of this kingdom," Eadith said, turning to you and placing a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You nodded gratefully for the unexpected support.

Aelfwynn looked so small and pale, her forehead beaded with sweat, breathing shallow and rapid as you sat by her bedside, holding her thin, burning hand in yours. You raised your head at the creak of the opening door, surprised to see it wasn't only Eadith and the wrinkled landlady entering.

They were followed by the broad-shouldered frame of Sihtric, carrying buckets of cool spring water. He placed them on the bench near the window and turned to you. "Lady, please tell me what else I can do."

"Aren't you afraid of the sickness?" you asked in astonishment.

"I am, it's an invisible enemy that can't be defeated with weapons. But you are here, and you are not afraid, neither is Eadith. I've always known there is an invisible strength in women - a strength to endure, to persist where the toughest men crumble. My own mother had that fortitude." His voice faded on the last words, a veil of sadness spreading over his handsome features.

"I cannot simply stand by watching. Not again..." Sihtric didn't finish the thought, but his haunted expression spoke more than any words could.

You watched him in a new light as he rolled up his sleeves, resolved to offer whatever assistance he could, your regard of him only growing. The young warrior seemed as acquainted with grief as with battle and was willing to place his faith in the quiet courage you and Eadith displayed against an enemy he knew he had no chance of standing against.

Later that night, reassured by Aelfwynn's steady breathing and her hands cooling from the fever's grip, exhaustion finally overwhelmed you and your eyes started drifting shut. It was then that Sihtric's strong yet remarkably gentle arms wrapped around your shoulders and under your knees, cradling you against his chest as he carried you carefully to the other bed in the room before resuming his vigil by the window, watching over your slumbers. 

And as you slowly slipped into restful dreams, you felt an unexpected sense of security and warmth enfolding you. Whatever forces had brought you to this time and place, you were grateful for the chance that was given to you. 

Even though you still struggled to accept that this seemed to be your life now, you found joy in being surrounded by these people who slowly turned into being your friends. By now you were in Aegelsbury, and for the first time since crossing paths with the group, you found yourself being on your own, away from Uhtred who was focused on his duties on becoming ruler of Mercia, even away from Finan and Osferth, who seemed to enjoy their time hiding in alehouses with pretty women. 

You had missed being on your own, giving you a chance to sort through confusing thoughts, fears, and the anticipation you couldn’t shake. This life was anything but easy, and yet it felt like you were finally part of something you had always missed, with these wonderful people and a certain man with dark locks and beautiful eyes you searched at any given chance. 

Being close to Sihtric felt like fate had always planned for you to come together, held apart by too many centuries between you–until you had found your way into this very year. Your heart longed for the strong warrior whenever you were away from him, just the mere thought of him made your heart race in your chest as if he was touching you once again. 

“Lady?” It felt as if he heard your thoughts, lured closer to check up on you as you hid away in the rented room. With a silent curse leaving you, you cleared your throat before calling a small “Yes?”. 

Your eyes were instantly drawn to his mismatched ones, getting lost in their rich colour, the secrets they carried, and the longing you couldn’t help but feel too. Sihtric stepped into the room all too carefully as if he was giving you the chance to make him leave before the door could fall shut behind him.

“I,” he had to avert his gaze as he fumbled with his fingers. “I wanted to see if you were alright, I haven’t seen you since yesterday morning.” 

A rosy tint brushed his cheeks, a sight so lovingly, you couldn’t help but reach your hand out for Sihtric to take. You pulled him closer while trying not to focus on the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, the way his calloused fingertips brushed over your skin, and the heat that began to simmer inside of you. Sihtric was the sweetest temptation, a man the girls at home would all fall for within seconds. 

“I’m good, thank you, Sihtric. I think I am just tired after the past few days.” The soft smile he shot you left you chuckling, unable to bite down your adoration for the tall man. Your hands stayed connected as silence engulfed you two, stroking along your bodies like a snake slithering to Eden, finding shelter in the warmth only your hearts seemed to offer. 

“I didn’t want to disturb your peace, perhaps I should leave you be. But,” the rest of his sentence was left hanging in the air. You could tell that he struggled to put whatever he was feeling into words, coming off as a shy young boy rather than a gruesome warrior who knew no holding back on a battlefield. 

“But what, Sihtric?” He let go of your hand to interlace his fingers in his lap, it seemed as if he was holding himself back from whatever he was close to doing–and if you were certain of one thing only, it was that you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted him close, as close as possible. 

“I can’t stay away from you, lady. I don’t know what spell you casted over me, but I seem to miss your closeness whenever you leave my side.” Slowly, you reached for his chin to tilt his head back towards you. Without speaking a single word, you traced his soft lips with your thumb, hoping that he began to understand that you felt the same draw towards him. 

You held eye contact while shuffling closer, perhaps you were simply offering him a way out, a way to escape should he want to stay away, but Sihtric was fully entranced by you. And without speaking another word, he closed the distance between you to press his lips against yours. 

The kiss was everything you had been dreaming of, soft enough to test the waters, to adjust to what you were now feeling, and yet it was urgent enough to tell you he wanted more. Without breaking the kiss, Sihtric pressed you down on the mattress, he hovered over you as he got comfortable between your thighs. 

His calloused fingertips stroked your skin as one hand found its way beneath the dress they had bought for you to make you blend in more. Your hands played with his hair, to tug on the strands as he found your naked cunt. The buzz that shot through you had you moaning, letting the sounds vibrate on your tongues as the kiss grew even more demanding. 

“Sihtric,” you panted his name and for a second he parted from you. Both were clearly ready to give in, to fuck like you were destined to be, and yet you couldn’t help but feel excited and somewhat nervous about giving yourself to Sihtric. A man who was born over a thousand years before you. 

You held eye contact as he rose to his feet to shuffle out of his armour, letting it carefully rest on the small wooden table. Heat shot through you at every glimpse he offered of his skin, the body you wanted to feel pressed against yours. His cock was painfully hard, begging to be buried inside you like the both of you had dreamt of for the past nights, something you were set on finally turning real.

“Come here.” You barely recognised your own voice, it was huskier, rougher than before. Sihtric found his way back to you on the mattress, and with another kiss shared between you he pulled you into a sitting position to help you out of your dress. The second he had you naked, Sihtric kissed his way to your chest, to suck on the hardening numbs while his cock brushed through your slit, collecting drops of your arousal to coat himself.

“Will you let me fuck you, lady? Let me make you scream my name so they all hear who’s fucking you.” The teasing words left you gasping for air. You could only let go of a desperate plea, needing to feel him stretching your walls as if you had been born for this moment only. 

Without another warning, Sihtric pushed into you. He moved slowly, carefully almost as if he was just as nervous, unsure what to expect. But the second he was buried inside of you, you couldn’t help but claw at his skin, begging him for more. Sihtric began to build a rough pace, letting his body meet yours with every thrust to draw the loudest moans from you, letting them reverberate through the room.

“You feel so good, oh fuck, don’t stop, Sihtric.” You paid your words no attention as they left you, you were already too far gone as he fucked you closer and closer to the edge. Never again would you be able to leave his side again, no matter what may happen, your heart had found shelter inside his, clinging to him like two halves belonging together.

“I won’t, lady, you’re mine, forever mine.” His words made your walls flutter around him, a sensation that only grew stronger as his calloused fingertips began to circle your pulsing bundle. The moans that left you two grew lower, nothing but raspy sounds that mixed together while Sihtric pressed his forehead against yours. 

The moment had something so awfully intimate to it, you feared you would never experience this again with him, as if it was a one time thing that can’t be redone. But the emotions swimming in his mismatched pupils told you that this wasn’t just for one night only, this was a bond that would hold for as long as you lived, forever chained to his side. 

“I’m so close, fuck, let me cum.” Sihtric only laughed at your words, a challenge he seemed to easily give in to. His thrusts grew more ferocious, faster than the ones that had you seeing stars. Now you were engulfed by darkness, a darkness so rich, you couldn’t help but give into the sweetest sensation.

Your orgasm clashed through you without giving you a chance to stop it, it filled every pore, every vein of your trembling body. Sihtric kept moving, he kept snapping his hips against yours until he let go with a deep moan. He imprinted himself on your walls, leaving his stain on your body and soul before slowly pulling out of you.

A playful breeze danced through the open window, its gentle caress rousing you from slumber's embrace. Sihtric's deep, even breaths formed a soothing rhythm, his chest rising and falling in a slow flow - the only sound to pierce the night's tranquil silence. And yet, a peculiar sensation lingered, as if you had heard your name whispered amidst the stillness.

Carefully, you shifted, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed to plant your feet on the cool floor. Reaching down, you retrieved your simple undergarment, carelessly discarded, and pulled it over your head. There it was again - a faint sound, so feeble that you questioned whether it was truly perceived or merely an echo reverberating from the dreamscape you had inhabited moments ago. Pictures of your former life in the hectic modern world with your friends, studies, and future plans, had danced vividly behind your closed lids.

You could not ignore the strange, insistent tugging sensation, as though your limbs moved on their own, carrying you towards the door and down the dimly lit corridor to Osferth's quarters. A soft, flickering glow seeped from beneath his door, beckoning you onward, and you carefully pushed the door as if knowing that it would yield and open.

The room was empty, Osferth likely too wasted to find it after another drinking contest with Finan. Your eyes scanned the sparse furnishings, finally landing on the table by the window where you saw it. The very same old book, the feeling of its leather cover against your fingertips still vivid in your memory, emanating an otherworldly, soft radiance, its pages turning lazily in the gentle breeze.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you beheld the waning images dancing across the illuminated pages - scenes of you savouring ice cream in your favourite coffee shop, dancing with friends in the disco you adored for its fortnightly DJ sets, hurrying through the sterile corridors of a hospital in your pristine white coat, stethoscope slung around your neck, your dream profession as a doctor finally within grasp after years of arduous study.

The whispered beckoning of the pages caressed your ears. This was it – your chance to return home, to leave this harsh, unforgiving world behind. You stretched out your hand, trembling slightly, fully aware of what would happen the moment your fingertips grazed those magical leaves.

The warmth of Sihtric's body enveloped you as he stirred from slumber, his muscular arms instinctively wrapping around your form and pulling you closer. A contented sigh escaped your lips as a gentle sense of happiness bloomed within your chest.

"You're chilled," he murmured huskily, his breath a delicious caress against the sensitive skin of your neck. With tender care, he adjusted the thick woollen blanket, meticulously tucking it snugly around your shivering frame.

“I can’t believe it took until I travelled back in time for me to feel like this.” Your whispers filled the room–words that piqued Sihtric’s attention as he pulled you against his chest. 

“What do you mean?” A kiss was pressed to your forehead, a gesture so sweet, you couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“I feel more loved and appreciated than ever before.” And with a slow kiss shared between your swollen lips, you knew that this had always been your destiny. You had been made for this man, as much as he had been crafted for you. Destiny is all.

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[sangoqueenkoko]

NEUVILLETTE

"it's not what you think it is"

fluff

HYDRO MASTERLIST | DRABBLE MASTERLIST

Drabble prompt: page 1: #50 = "it's not what you think it is."

Warnings? Nope! At least, I don't think so.

Contains Furina, Charlotte and Neuvillette of course!

757 words.

Well, well, well...

Look what we have here.

(Y/N), one of Fontaine's best lawyers.

The lawyer every caught criminal wishes to have as their defence, but Celestia forbids it if you are on the opposite side. They will certainly go to jail for whatever crime they committed, no matter how good or bad their alibi. If they're guilty, you will easily find that out. And vice versa.

But here you are, in the Iudex's office, standing in front of his desk as he sat with some paperwork of a court case that had just concluded. You were on the prosecutor's side of a robbery where the criminal took every piece of valuables they could hold and ran.

Ahem.

"Great work today, (L/N), as per usual," Neuvillette said approvingly and nodded as he put the current paperwork on the desk before him. Before he stood up and walked over to you with his usual soft eyes and smile.

You looked up at him as he lightly kissed your cheek.

Yes, you read that right.

You and Neuvillette have been secretly seeing each other without anyone noticing, not even Furina. Every 'date' you both go on is something subtle. It could just talking, he loves listening to you talk. He’s a great listener. And you love listening to him talk, his voice is smooth and calming. If you were to go out on a walk through the city or eat together, you would eat in his office where no one would suspect it, rather than in public. If one were to be let into the office simultaneously, one would think it's an important meeting… somehow, that may last a while, considering if you both eat there.

But when no one is there, things are different. Very different.

Neuvillette isn't one for physical affection, but he likes the kisses on the cheek and the back of the hands. And if he's in a good mood, a small kiss on the lips. Maybe. But that depends on both parties: him as well as you.

Aside from that, another case you were working on was significant; it reached all corners of Fontaine via mouth or The Steambird. Charlotte, whom you had gotten to know more about the more you spoke to her about cases and general day-to-day life. But in terms of work, she was due to talk to you and Neuvillette about the now-concluded trail to write in The Steambird, as the rest of Fontaine want to know what the Iudex and Jurist think of the whole ordeal.

But the two of you talked enough to make you friends.

"Not bad yourself, Monsieur" You smiled in return as you stood on your tiptoes to quickly return the light but sweet kiss. He liked it when you called him that. Not because it is a part of his title, because it is, but you just like saying it. As you aren't from Fontaine, you've never really had to say it, but now you can, you think it rolls off the tongue. "I think it's interesting how you, a stoic yet gentle being, can hold such trials like that yet not let your emotions slip."

"Ah, mon amour, but it's all with time past. I have done this for centuries; I have been used to this routine for a while now," he says as he gently lifts your chin to look at him with his index finger. His soft blue moonstone eyes meet your stunning (E/C) ones.

You both got lost in each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity, but it was only for a few short seconds.

The space between you two closed as he then pulled you closer by your waist before pressing his soft lips against yours. Both of you are immersed in the moment~

FLASH. Followed by a short CLICK.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" the both of you hear towards the door. You two broke away from the moment before looking in that direction. Only to see an utterly shocked and flabbergasted Furina. Charlotte is standing beside her, Kamera in hand. That would be where the flash came from, "Mx. (L/N)! U-Uh-! What is the meaning of this??!"

Good luck trying to get Charlotte to not write about this in The Steambird this week.

"Lady Furina..!" Neuvillette began in a mild panic, his usual calm and collected demeanour slipping as you gently pushed yourselves apart and away from each other. Both your faces are different shades of blush.

"it's not what you think it is."

it’s exactly what you think it is lmao

[linalavender]

[Spoilers] (One Piece Chapter 1120)

The Sins of the Father

I feel like Oda has been wanting to bring this theme into the story for quite some time. The D. intentionally being systematically eradicated from this world has always been a present theme in One Piece, But Clover outright saying this brings it to the forefront. And this is something he tried todo recently with someone who isnt a D. clan descendant but for one reason or another sort of Subtly cut out of the story

Man I just sat with this panel for a good 3 minutes or so, really impactful.

The Kurozumi clan commited a grave sin to the People of Wano, they sold out the country to Kaido for the price of the clan becoming the Shogunate. And for the most part the Kurozumi Descendants are horrible people exploiting all others of personal gain and complete disregard for the people of Wano. But theres an expection to this, While its never explictly said in the Manga (aside from a later SBS) and Tamas parents grave, Tamas full name is Kurozumi Tama. As far as we know in the story she is the sole survivor of the Kurozumi clan. Odas reveal of this is Volume 105's SBS goes further.

"Should we hate her, then? In the final scenes of the arc, Hiyori clearly said, "Kurozumi was born to burn." Does that mean she's including O-Tama? No, of course not. It's clear from the story that Hiyori is referring specifically to Orochi. How would people react if they found out that O-Tama was from the Kurozumi Family? Please use your imagination. This has been a problem throughout human history that continues to this day."

I feel like we would still be in Wano and not even close to finishing if he included every little detail like this but I wish we got to see this tidbit, Will people be calling for Tamas death? We readers know Tama, shes the sweetest little dumpllng and has suffered much like everyone else. Her name did not grant her any of the special privleges it "should" have Could she possible redeem her clan? Is the Sins of the Father so grave every generation after it is stained forever?

I do think the D. Clan actually truly did something horrific. The World goverment and its actions after the fact has made them absolute villians but I think he is playing with this narrative that Luffy and all other D. clan descendants ancestors did something that makes the Founding members heroic for stopping. Does that make it so people like Luffy, Law, Vivi etc should be killed? For something their great ancestors did 9 centuries ago? BUT does it also justify the World goverments opression and founding? absolutly not. Dont get me twisted here. The attrocities and genocides of the World goverment has commited over the last centuries is far, far graver than what Joyboy and the D. Clan could have ever done,

This is sort of riffing of a very old twitter post of mine after Tamas full name so if youve somehow read this before sorry lol

ALSO I hope this serves as proof you should read the manga ur missing so much if you dont :)

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Drugged Hero Whumpee used as Party Favor at Villain's Party part 1

Warnings: drugged sedation, torture, blood, severe whump/intimate whump, restraints

PROMPT:

Man, I just love the idea of a dazed- out Whumpee, drugged-beyond-comprehension, sprawled out vulnerable and unprotected on the couch as Whumper's party guests interact around them. I love the idea of Whumpee being a party favor; a cheap little bit of entertainment. Conscious, but barely. Alert, but subdued and drugged enough that they can't fight back.

Do the guests pull Whumpee's limp form into their laps, caressing their face and hair and chuckling at their incomprehensible mumbling? Do they tilt their chin up and pour alcohol through the parted, un- protesting lips? Does Whumpee sputter and choke, causing the party-goers to laugh cruelly, shoving their head between their knees so they don't suffocate? Do they blow their smoke into Whumpee's face, mouth, or eyes?

Do they hurt Whumpee, or mishandle. them, or assault them? Do they take pictures or videos? How do they react when Whumpee reaches out a limp, sluggish arm in a futile attempt to push their tormentors away?

Do the party-goers mock the Whumpee, forcing them to their knees, making them crawl across the floor just to watch them struggle? Do they scoff at the way Whumpee is too dizzy to move without collapsing? Do they tell Whumpee to "sit" and "speak" like a dog, punishing them for slurred mumbling and rewarding them if they can somehow manage an intelligible word or phrase?

Does the Whumpee, in their delirious state, call out unintelligibly for Whumper? Does Whumper hold them, wiping away their tears, reassuring them that they're doing great and that they'll feel better soon?

Or does Whumper simply let them cry, watching from afar as their guests do whatever they want to the victim?

MY WRITING:

For context "Shadow" is my main Hero character, she/her pronouns, a rare human-like creature thought to have gone extinct centuries ago that was captured and is now held captive, being shown off/flaunted as a prize for her rarity at Villain's party. She has regenerative powers and ice magic, but the heavy drugs she was given is wreaking havoc on her systems so she can't easily access that power. She used to be the city's Hero until Villain finally took her down. All right now on to the story!

Shadow was standing chained up in the dreadful, dark cell when Villain entered, flanked by two muscular henchmen. Her wrists had metal cuffs with magic-blocking properties that prevented her from lashing out or acting up, and the chains attached to them were pinned to the wall on either side of her, forcing her to stay standing upright with her arms spread to the sides. She lifted her head, and despite her haggard, battered appearance she still managed a fierce glare.

"...Come to rub your victory in my face again?" She rasped hoarsely, her throat dry from dehydration and raw from screaming as she had been tortured for hours upon hours. Villain hadn't given her proper food or water in days, and her bones were starting to show.

"Not today," Villain said in his typical arrogant voice as always. "I have something far more... exciting planned for this evening."

Shadow didn't like the sound of that. She forced herself not to flinch as Villain stepped up to her, bringing a loaded syringe to her neck.

"Wait--what is--" Shadow couldn't help the surprised gasp that escaped her as the needle plunged in, delivering something unknown. Almost immediately, a slow, stretching pain started spreading through her body, latching on to every last muscle and nerve.

"What... did you give me...?" She slurred, head lolling forward, as her body slumped against the restraints against her will. The world had an odd tilt as her vision grew hazy and disoriented, hard to focus on anything.

"It's something to make you a bit more... docile," Villain hissed venomously into her ear with a dark chuckle. "We're going to have so. Much. Fun together."

Shadow felt the two henchmen fiddling with the chains holding her up... unlocking them? The magic-blocking cuffs remained, but Shadow felt a small wave of relief as the tension on her aching and over-strained arms was let up for the first time in days, even though she knew the freedom was limited. She tried to catch her balance as the chains no longer held her weight, but her weak legs buckled under her almost instantly.

The two henchmen grabbed her arms and practically dragged her out of the room, toward an unknown place with... voices. Strange voices. Lots of them. Where on earth was Villain taking her?

Shadow was left to wonder until Villain pushed open a giant door in his mansion, and Shadow was hit with a blast of bright colors and loud sounds. It looked like... a party? Why would Villain be bringing her to a party?

Villain's voice sounded warped and distant to her as he addressed his party guests, introducing her as the Hero he'd single-handedly conquered. The one with unique abilities unlike any other.

Shadow felt herself being carried and then dumped rather ungracefully onto one of Villain's giant lavish couches. She immediately made a move to escape, trying to spring to her feet and get ready to fight with her fists, her strong suit, but it ended up being more like a rather humiliating drunken lurch from the couch as she struggled to coordinate her heavy limbs to obey her will. The world swam dizzyingly in front of her eyes, and she could barely balance, swaying unsteadily on shaky legs.

"Oooh, I've heard so much about you!" An unfamiliar female voice sounded, and Shadow felt a hand grab her shoulder, easily shoving her back to trip onto the couch in an undignified heap. She landed on the soft surface with a grunt, before stubbornly trying to get up again. She was no quitter.

"Oh dear... trying to leave so soon? But we haven't even gotten to have fun with you yet!" A lively, sing-songy voice giggled darkly, and something about the sound made Shadow bristle from head-to-toe with dread. A hand pressed firmly into her collarbone, pushing her down into the couch and keeping her pinned so she couldn't give another attempt at rising.

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

[romanticatheartt]

Gwyneth and Rhysand

Having the same traumas:

Both being victim of SA

Rhys said quietly, “I was a prisoner in her court for nearly fifty years. I was tortured and beaten and fucked until only telling myself who I was, what I had to protect, kept me from trying to find a way to end it. Please—help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.” ~ acomaf ch.11 “I hadn’t yet participated in the Great Rite, and we were so remote up there that I never had the chance to lie with a male, and he took that from me, too. And then he called over three of his soldiers and told them to keep going until I revealed where the children had gone.” ~ acosf ch.68

Losing their sisters in the most brutal way

“... I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t. And they slaughtered my mother and sister anyway.”... “It should have been me,”... “They put their heads in boxes and sent them down the river—to the nearest camp. Tamlin’s father kept their wings as trophies. I’m surprised you didn’t see them pinned in the study.” ~ acomaf ch.45 “... So he grabbed Catrin, because our scents were nearly identical, you see, and told me that if I didn’t reveal where the children were, he’d kill her. And when I didn’t give the children up …” Her mouth shook. “He beheaded Catrin right there, along with two other priestesses...” ~ acosf ch.68

Having the same blood rite experience:

He could still feel the crumbling rock beneath his boots, hear the rasp of his breathing as he half hauled Rhys up the slopes, Azriel providing cover behind.* ~ acofas ch.3 Nesta marveled at the hope and bravery in their faces. “I can hold them off.” *... She didn’t wait for Emerie to speak before she helped ease Gwyn onto Emerie’s back, the latter hissing at the weight upon her wings, splaying them at awkward angles. ~ acosf ch.69

They won the blood rite and have the Carynthian title. And I wonder if Rhys at any stage of his life thought he's not a real Carynthian because Cassian had to help him and if Gwyn also might feel the same. And maybe they can bond over it...

Being pretty AF:

Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. ~ acotar ch.20 If Rhysand was the most beautiful male I’d ever seen, she [Mor] was his female equivalent. ~ acomaf ch.6 The priestess had been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses, she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor. ~ acosf ch.29

2+2=?

Nerds...

Az, of course, had been fascinated. Rhys had built the model himself centuries ago. It could not only track the sun, but also tell time, and it somehow allowed Rhys to ponder the existence of life beyond their own world and other things Cassian had, again, instantly forgotten. ~ acosf ch.3 “I could only pick up every other word,” Rhys said. Feyre arched a brow. “You speak the language of the ancient Fae?” Rhys shrugged. “My education was thorough.” He waved an idle, graceful hand. “For exactly these situations.” ~ acosf ch.37 “Some philosophers believe there are eleven worlds like that. And some believe there are as many as twenty-six, the last one being Time itself, which …” Gwyn’s voice dropped to a whisper. ~ acosf ch.13 Gwyn let out a breathy laugh. “I mean it. I learned about a new Valkyrie technique last night. It’s called Mind-Stilling.” ~ acosf ch.38

This has nothing to do with their similarity but him being cute and protective<33

The casual smile of a male used to people either fleeing in terror or falling to their knees in worship. “Hello, Gwyn,” he said warmly. “Good to see you again.” Gwyn blushed, shaking herself out of her stupor, and bowed low. “My lord.”... You are to treat Gwyn with kindness and respect. ~ acosf ch.28

*Bonus*:

Gwyn and Rhys were injured and had to be carried to the top while Nesta and Azriel stayed behind to cover for them.

Nesta 🤝 Azriel -> we expected them to have a strong friendship and it happened in hofas. They also have so many similarities!

Gwyn 🤝 Rhys -> ...?

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Immortalized

Summary:

During a museum visit, Dream tells Hob the story of two star-crossed lovers in a painting and what it means to him.

Word Count: 3,055

Notes:

For Dreamling Week Day 3: Painting

[Read on AO3]

---

“Would you recognize everything in here?” Hob asked as they leisurely walked around the gallery. “Do you somehow sense every artwork before they’re made?”

“Not always,” Dream replied, looking at the paintings they passed by. “If I do not make a conscious effort to see into a daydream, I do not perceive them unless they are particularly vivid.”

Hob had chosen a museum this week for their meeting, remembering what Dream said last time about wanting to see more of the city as a human would. Not much in museums could surprise Hob, and he was curious to know how Dream would feel about the place.

“Oh good, I was afraid you’d find it boring here,” Hob said playfully. He didn’t really think Dream would get bored in a museum; he knew that his friend was more interested in learning about humans now than back then. Still, it was always a little intimidating when it was his turn to choose a meeting place. He had seen the Dreaming, and it was hard to think of what could match up to the things that Dream created regularly.

“Museums are never a bore; humans are unceasingly interesting. You have taught me that.” Dream said the words with such casual sincerity, and Hob couldn't help but smile at how comfortable his friend was now at expressing sentiments.

“In addition, it is fascinating to see works of art gathered in one place. One creation can inspire another, which can transcend mediums. This painting, for example.” Dream stopped in front of a painting that depicted a man stabbed through with a sword lying under a tree. A woman was standing above him and appeared to fall on the sword herself.

“This is only one version of the many paintings that are derived from the original written tale. Apart from the visual works, plays and other stories have also been adapted from it.”

Hob read the caption beside it, indicating that the title of the piece was Pyramus and Thisbe and it was made by an Italian artist named Pietro Bianchi in the 18th century.

“What’s the original story about? I don’t think I’d been paying attention to art much during that time.” Hob kept his tone casual, but he never liked remembering what he was like in that century, and Dream must have sensed his discomfort somehow.

“You are not that man anymore, Hob Gadling,” Dream said gently.

Hob nodded and gave a small smile. He wanted to kick himself for potentially bringing the mood down during what was supposed to be a fun day, but Dream didn’t seem to mind as he turned to look at the painting again.

Dream began the story in his even baritone.

“Pyramus and Thisbe were lovers, but their families had a bitter rivalry. Despite their circumstances, they found a way to communicate through a crack in the wall. One day, they decided to elope, and arranged to meet at the base of a mulberry tree. Thisbe arrived first. While she waited, a lioness approached to get a drink from the nearby source of water. The beast looked fearsome, as it still had blood on its jaws from a fresh hunt, and Thisbe ran away to hide in a cave, dropping her veil in her haste.

The lioness came across the veil, and chewed on it for a time before leaving it mangled and bloody. Then Pyramus arrived. He recognized the veil as belonging to his lover, and fell into despair as he mistook the sight to mean that Thisbe had been killed. He cursed himself for not arriving sooner to protect her. He kissed the veil, before drawing his sword and plunging it into his body and drawing it back out. Thisbe returned from her hiding place, hoping to warn her lover of the lioness. She saw his dying form and called out his name. Pyramus opened his eyes and saw his beloved just before the last of his breath left him.

Thisbe tore at her hair and cried and embraced the body, but there was nothing to be done. She saw the bloody veil and sword, and understood what had happened. She spoke a vehement wish to the gods and their feuding parents to have them lie in the same tomb, for not even death could part them. She kissed her lover’s cold lips, and felled herself on the same sword that took his life, still warm with his blood.

The gods felt moved by her prayers, and honoured their memory by permanently making the fruits of the mulberry tree a shade of crimson, which had been previously white but had been coloured by the spray of their blood. Thisbe’s wish of their remains being together was granted, and their ashes were laid to rest in the same urn.”

Hob kept staring at Dream for several seconds before realising that the story was over. Dream’s voice was calm for the entire retelling, and held an engaging timber that kept Hob entranced even when he was done speaking.

Hob blinked a few times and turned to look at the painting again. “Bloody hell. I mean, I know the classics are chock-full of tragedies but… Wait, were they real?” he asked Dream. “Pyramus and Thisbe. Because you’ve told me that some people in the myths actually existed back then.”

Dream shook his head. “They are entirely fictional, though their circumstances are far from unheard of. Humans have had rivalries countless times throughout the ages, and have experienced love and its complications even more often. That is why such stories are timeless. From what I gather, such tragic misunderstandings are a prevalent theme in the most well-known stories in this century.”

“Yeah, like Romeo and Juliet,” Hob said without thinking. “Hang on, Shakespeare’s play is derived from this story?”

“Indeed.”

“Well, no wonder you picked this painting to explain. Your favourite playwright adapted it.” Hob narrowed his eyes in mock distaste.

Dream frowned. “I have never said that he is my favourite playwright.”

“Oh, so you personally visit and talk to every artist you like and Shaxberd wasn't an exception?” Hob wasn't really upset about the whole thing anymore, but it had become a sort of inside joke for them and it was always endearing to see Dream’s reactions whenever he brought it up.

Dream gave him a look that was probably meant to look unimpressed but Hob recognized as fond. “I do not understand why you are still—how would today's children say it—salty about him.”

Hob loved it whenever Dream deliberately used modern slang in their banters—hearing his velvet voice was impossibly endearing—but he suppressed a smile. “Maybe if you didn’t ditch me to go hang out with that guy, I wouldn’t be,”

Dream glanced at the ceiling in his version of an eyeroll, matching Hob’s playfulness. “You are the guy I am hanging out with now, are you not?”

Hob grinned. “Damn right, I am. Every week for the past three months. Are you saying I’m your favourite, after all?” he teased.

Dream stared at him for several seconds before answering. “Yes.”

Hob’s grin slowly melted off his face. He had expected a vague response or maybe a proper eyeroll, not Dream looking at him with a gaze that pinned him to place and made something flutter in his chest.

“It is because of you, Hob Gadling, that you and I avoided a tragedy similar to that of Pyramus and Thisbe. Unlike Pyramus, you did not assume the worst of my absence. You waited for me. Even when my own subjects did not.” Dream’s voice grew quieter. “Even after I had been cruel to you.”

“Hey, none of that,” Hob quickly said. “You’ve already apologised about 1889 and more than made up for it. You’re not that man anymore, Dream,” he said pointedly, repeating his friend’s words from earlier.

The soft smile that lifted the corners of Dream’s lips outshone everything else in that gallery, and Hob felt himself smiling back.

“You are a good friend, Hob Gadling. I can only hope to deserve such loyalty.”

“You already deserve it, Dream. And you’ll always have it.”

“As you shall have mine.” Dream stepped closer, his voice a soft rumble that sent goosebumps across Hob’s skin. He glanced at the painting again. “They had arranged to meet at the base of the mulberry tree, and when one of them arrived later, it spelled the end for them.” He returned his gaze to Hob. “But you, Hob Gadling…”

Hob swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity of Dream’s eyes.

“Nothing would deter you. Our place of meeting had closed down, and you simply built another. Even without knowing whether I would still come back.”

“I always knew you would come back,” Hob said softly. “And I wanted to be there when you did.”

Dream took another step closer, and Hob could feel his heart race in anticipation. “There have been countless stories of people torn apart by time and misunderstandings. But because of you, such a fate did not befall us. I needed you to know how important that is to me. How important you are. To me.”

“Dream…” Hob breathed. He felt like he could topple over at any moment. When Dream first showed up at the Inn, it felt like the sun coming out after a harsh winter. When Dream kept showing up, week after week, Hob felt much more alive than he ever did before, and he didn’t dare ask for anything else.

And now Dream was just saying all these things to him, on a random Saturday afternoon, reaching into his most secret hopes and lighting him up from the inside.

“That is why I chose this painting to talk about. Why I am choosing you. Now. If you will have me.”

“If— Wh— Dream—” Hob stuttered, six centuries of emotions rising up within him all at once.

“My heart is yours, Hob Gadling. To do with as you wish.” Dream spoke quietly, his expression soft and open and with an adoration that Hob never thought would be directed at him.

“You…” Hob grabbed the front of Dream’s coat with both hands and leaned his forehead against Dream’s shoulder, taking deep breaths to calm himself. “How could you do this to me right now…”

He had been so careful, keeping a hold on his self-control every week after the next. But now everything came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. Everything he had ever wanted with Dream, what he wanted to do with Dream—

“Hob. I am afraid I cannot hold you here as you wish for me to do.”

Hob's eyes widened and he jumped back, letting go of Dreams' coat. “Shit, I forgot you can see daydreams. Sorry, I…” he trailed off when he saw Dream’s playful smile.

Dream leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “I am not allowed to touch you. The sign at the door clearly prohibits touching the masterpieces.”

Hob's face burned. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could track. “Take me somewhere else, then,” he managed to choke out.

The mirth on Dream's face disappeared, replaced by an expression of want so palpable that Hob wanted to dive in and taste it.

Dream’s eyes turned into galaxies. He grabbed Hob's wrist and in the next instant Hob felt himself pressed back against a tree, Dream’s mouth descending on his.

Hob could only arch into the touch, his hands finding their way into Dream’s hair, pulling him closer.

Their kisses burned with centuries of longing, the yearning to be even closer with every passing second, chasing after the heat of finally being together, and Hob was all too happy to let it consume him.

Dream’s tongue slid against his and he groaned, gripping the back of Dream’s neck to keep him in place, not intending to let him go for as long as humanly possible.

Time stopped making sense. Hob didn't know or care how long he'd been pressed against Dream, and when he broke the kiss it was only because words began rushing out of him beyond his control.

“I'm yours, Dream,” he panted. “My heart. Everything. Anything you want.”

Dream pressed his forehead against Hob’s, catching his breath. And it nearly drove Hob mad to realise that he was the reason for it, that he affected Dream enough to the point of breathing.  “You are…. everything I want.”

They held each other like that, in the warm quiet moment when words were no longer needed.

Then Hob noticed that the leaves of the tree that shaded them were gold, and the clouds passing by were a glimmering silver against a backdrop of a pale indigo sky.

“Are we in the Dreaming?” Hob asked in surprise, only now recognizing the familiar feeling of being in Dream’s realm.

“Indeed. I did not want to be interrupted.”

“Wait, then where's my body? I'm not passed out in the museum, am I?” Though Hob wouldn't really mind either way. It'd be well worth it.

“Your body is safe in your own bedroom. We took a short detour before coming here.”

Hob blinked. “I'd say you move fast, but I'd been waiting for this for a long time.” He smiled and caressed Dream’s face, running his thumb over a pale cheekbone.

“Then wait no longer, my beloved. You have me now.”

Those words seemed to spark something inside Hob, and heat pooled low in his gut. His hands held firm on Dream's shoulders.

“You know, I have no rules in my bedroom against touching me.”

There was a rumble in Dream’s chest that only stoked the fires threatening to consume Hob, and he could practically feel his own pupils dilating.

“Hob Gadling.” Dream said the words like a promise.

Hob felt himself return to his body, and he only had time to register the feel of his mattress against his back before Dream was upon him again.

***

“How're the crêpes?” Hob asked after taking a bite of his waffle.

“The flavour of the fruit mixed with the chocolate syrup is a good combination; I can understand the appeal. Though I still prefer the food at The New Inn.”

Hob chuckled. “I think you might be biased, love.”

The corner of Dream’s mouth lifted. “Perhaps.”

Hob grinned and allowed himself to feel smug about that. “But seriously, though, this is a good place,” he looked around.

Dream had chosen a café this week. Nothing fancy, but it had a very homey feel, and there was currently an art exhibit going on as part of their marketing. Paintings hung on the walls, and small sculptures lined the tables on one side.

“Since we looked at well-known classics last time, I thought it would be fitting to view works by today's artists. These are the new stories.”

Hob smiled. There was such high regard in Dream's voice, and he hoped those artists could somehow sense how proud the Prince of Stories was of them.

Hob paid more attention to the artworks, which was easier now that there were fewer people than when they first came in. A particular piece on the wall across from their table caught his attention; it was an oil painting of a sunny park where people were lounging in, but the trees had gold leaves, and the sky was a pale indigo with silver clouds.

Hob frowned and went over to the painting, his eyes landing on two people on the left. They were painted from the side, one was leaning against a tree and the other stood pressed against him, wearing a long black coat. They were definitely snogging.

“Dream—” Hob turned around to see Dream standing right behind him with a knowing smile. “Did you transport us to some poor bloke's dream last week?” he asked incredulously, keeping his voice down.

“Not exactly. At the time, I did not have a specific area of the Dreaming in mind. I simply wanted us to be somewhere private. But dreamers roam around my realm with a certain degree of freedom, and a handful of them were in the same place as we were. Most of them forget the details of their dreams upon waking up, but this particular artist had been hoping for inspiration, an idea to paint for this event. And I believed it would be a kindness to help him remember the details of his particular dream a little more vividly than the others.”

“A kindness, really?” Hob raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile from the ridiculous stunt that his deity of a boyfriend just pulled.

“Yes.” Dream spoke evenly, but there was a gleam in his eye that Hob knew all too well.

Hob looked back at the painting and made a face at how his figure was drawn from such an awkward angle.

“I look terrible,” he complained.

“I look worse.”

Hob turned to him and was about to say that Dream didn't look bad in the painting at all, but something about the tone of Dream’s voice and his playful smirk sparked a memory.

“Is that meant to be me?” Hob looked down at the drawing that Lady Constantine placed at their table. “I look terrible.” He glanced at Dream. “You look worse.”

Hob chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Finally realised I was flirting then? Took you long enough.”

“Hm.” Dream hummed and stepped closer. “Shall we make up for lost time? I would be more than happy to provide you with two centuries’ worth of… experience,” he looked at Hob from under his eyelashes. “And then some.”

Hob swallowed as he felt a familiar heat roil in his gut. “That's not fair. Why do you always try to seduce me in public?”

“Because I know I can always take you somewhere private.”

Hob narrowed his eyes, but he wasn’t nearly prideful enough to decline a proposition from Dream. “Just to my flat this time. I don't wanna be appearing in any more paintings.”

Dream’s lips turned up in a smile. “As you wish. I am not opposed to keeping you all to myself.”

Dream pressed a soft kiss to Hob's lips, and Hob leaned into the touch as he felt the familiar sensation of being transported away.

---

Notes:

The premise of this fic is inspired by this Tumblr post. I saw it years ago and my brain conjured it up again for this fic~

Big thanks to @patchyegg87 for her idea of Hob and Dream teleporting to an artist's dream and being painted <3

And to my brother as well for being an art geek and telling me various stories of lovers in classic paintings and such~

---

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[copperbadge]

I am so close to being done with Royals/Ramblers I can taste it, and it's one of those frustrating situations where the last remaining work to be done is just annoying. I have to write one damn scene, which of course is the most emotionally fraught and difficult one, and then pick from the *counts on fingers* three separate versions of the epilogue I wrote, none of which are very satisfying. I'll probably slam them all together and then sort it out somehow.

And then I definitely have to give the whole thing one more pass before I think about posting, because it's going to clock in at right around 150K words, and I already have notes on continuity issues that need fixing.

Anyway, please enjoy this scene, in which I realized at the same time Gregory and Eddie did what a great joke their names make. (Some brief context -- Joan uses she/her but doesn't like the word "princess", so she chose the gender neutral Princeps as her title.)

Friday evening, when Gregory came on the air for the address, Eddie was sitting next to him, and Joan was leaning on Eddie's shoulder. Her excitement was almost a visible thing; she'd been fussed over that afternoon, Gregory helping her pick out clothing followed by Jerry doing her makeup for camera and Eddie doing a slightly less clumsy job of braiding her hair than she generally did. 

"Good evening, Fons-Askaz, Askazer-Shivadlakia, our neighbors, and our viewers abroad," Gregory said. Behind the camera, Jerry mouthed the words along with him absently. "I'm pleased to greet you all this Friday evening and I hope you're well. I find myself, for the second time in a year, setting aside the usual issues of the day and questions from citizens to talk to you about family...."

His idea had been to talk about Joan's history just a little, then introduce her as the newest Royal, their daughter the Princeps. He could use that as a platform to present to the country his new funding package for adoptive families, meant to encourage adoption and support children coming out of the foster system. Each half of that would hopefully make the other half seem less random.

It went pretty smoothly; Eddie chimed in at all the right moments, and Joan got to say a few words of introduction at the end. After he signed off, he gave her a hug and a forehead-kiss and told her she'd done a great job. 

And then Noah, standing with Monday and Jerry behind the camera in the little studio, said, "Well, you crashed the internet again."

Gregory sighed. "Can't blame Eddie this time, can we?" 

"It was only the tourism website, and it wasn't on purpose," Eddie said. 

"He was always breaking my stuff when we were kids," Monday said.

"Nope, this one's all Joan," Noah replied. "As soon as you introduced her as your daughter, traffic started spiking -- palace website, tourism website, and every royals' Photogram."

"Katie in Communications says told you so," Jerry said, already on the phone with her.

"Joan's Photogram is down, looks like bandwidth-suck. And there goes mine, and yours," Noah said, nodding at Gregory. "There's two hashtags trending, PrincessJoan and PrincepsJoan." 

"Let me call my guy at Photogram," Eddie said, taking his phone out. 

"You have a guy just like, at Photogram?" Monday asked.

"Yeah, he handles my requests, I send him sausages," Eddie answered. 

"How is it you simultaneously live in the 22nd century and the 14th?" Monday asked. 

"Have him kill the Princess hashtag," Noah suggested.

"It's fine," Joan said. "They can use it for now, it'll keep things, um." She narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. "Segmented. Spread out the discussion a little."

"Someone's been reading my data analytics memos," Gregory said. 

"You leave 'em out," she pointed out. 

"Good news is people seem excited," Noah continued. "The hashtag's glitching, it's moving so fast, but overall pretty positive," he added.

"Well, we knew this would be intense," Gregory said. Joan, studying her own phone, squeaked. "Joan?" 

"Mas Corbin tagged me," she said, with possibly the most excitement they'd seen from her, at least since her first trip in the Jaguar. 

"The footballer?" Gregory asked, confused.

"Who?" Noah and Eddie chorused. 

"He's a Shivadh footballer, I think he's playing in Ireland right now," Gregory said, and his voice took on a slight edge as he considered some of the reasons a football player might mention his daughter. "What did he say?" 

"Dedicating my next game to my new Princeps JoanMac, long may she reign," Joan read, and Gregory relaxed. "Congrats to Gin&Tonic, she's cute as a button. Mas Corbin thinks I'm cute!"

"Gin and Tonic?" Gregory asked, and then said, "Gregory and Theophile," right as Eddie and Monday both began to laugh. "How did neither of us think of that before?"

"You get used to it," Noah said to Joan. "All kinds of famous people are going to have opinions on you."

"What do I do?!"

"Gram him back," Noah said. "Comment and say thanks and that you're a fan and you'll be watching the game."

"I'm gonna have to do a video with some gin and tonic recipes," Eddie said, as Noah and Joan debated the best wording for her response. Gregory leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and let the chaos happen around him for a minute. 

[tokyorevismylife]

Ladies Man- Pt.1

a ran x reader series

trigger warnings: a little cussing, reader is female

A/N:  I’ve decided to post more often, so here is a Ran dump I had saved in my drafts, because I love him so much.

Ran Haitani was the epitome of a ladies man. The very definition of one. His appearance and his charming personality was enough to with anyone over. Tall, well built but slim, with long hair tied up into braids, a pretty face and most of all, his calculating violet eyes that managed to capture the hearts of any girl he set his sights on. And he just was so seemingly effortless and graceful in all that he did. He was suave, charismatic, the list goes on. Not to mention, being able to take charge over the Roppongi district at such a young age and being apart of multiple gangs did wonders for the bad boy persona that so many females seem to like. Long story short, these advantageous traits made him extremely attractive. That’s why Ran Haitani, has always lived the good life when it came to dating. With one luck, he can wrap a girl around his finger. Who wouldn’t use this skill to their advantage?

This is precisely the reason when his younger brother Rindou didn’t even bat an eye when yet another one of his girlfriends came over to his house to disrupt the minimal peace he had. Living with such a popular brother like Ran isn’t easy. Naturally, with talents like these, a little bit of bragging is clearly understandable, right? So, obviously, Ran showed them off at every given moment. At last, what seemed like centuries later, the girl left looking utterly pleased that she was able to spend some time with a guy that seems like he came out of some fantasy shoujo manga. 

After she left, Ran plopped on the living room couch looking bored and displeased. “What’s up with you?” Rindou inquired. “Shouldn’t your dumbass be smirking in my face telling me about how many girls you manage to pull?

 “Aw come now, I understand you’re jealous but that’s no reason to insult your phenomenal elder brother, now is it?” Ran retorted. 

Rindou merely rolled his eyes, however his exasperation quickly faded when he saw that the look on Ran’s face returned to displeasure. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? How can you look dissatisfied after hooking up with a girl?” Rindou asked his brother.

“I wish I could be as simple minded as you, Rindou.” The elder Haitani melodramatically sighed. “You see, when you’re as attractive as I am, you can get anyone to like you. And that’s exactly my problem. I get all these girls to like me, and majority of them are smoking too. But they’re all the same, just trying to get in my pants because they think I’m some hot bad boy gangster, which I mean, I am....but I think I just want someone to like me for me.”

Rindou blinked. “Bro... are you on crack?”, was the only thing the younger Haitani was able to spew out after hearing Ran’s rather surprising monologue. “I never thought I would see the day where Ran Haitani would be tired of hooking up and actually want to commit to a relationship.” Ran didn’t say anything but glared at his brother. Rindou, if he wanted to, could also be a complete asshole. “Well, Ran, you’ll find someone someday. But, there is no point in moping around. If you want a committed relationship with someone, get off your ass, find someone you like, and use your charms. And quit hooking up with girls who only want you for shallow reasons if it bothers you that much.”

Ran stiffened at being called out but grudgingly accepted that his brother was right. Rindou has always been the wiser one among the two. He simply tilted his head back against the couch and hoped that someone would come along soon...

“CRAP!!!” I’m gonna be late!!” You leapt out of your bed, when you realized that school would start in 20 mins. You had spent majority of the night before cramming for an extremely important test of yours, which lead to you oversleeping due to your exhaustion. Within a matter of minutes, you somehow managed to shove some sort of food in your mouth, sort your appearance out and pack your bags before bolting out the door. 

“I think I may just have set a world record for fastest time to get ready”, you said as you were jogging at a quick pace. You pulled out your phone and checked the time. “Oh god, I’m gonna have to speed things up a notch if I want a hope of making it.” You swiftly quickened your pace. Upon focusing on being able to maintain a steady pace, you weren’t paying attention too much, which caused you to full on collide with an extremely tall person, which caused them to spill their drink they were holding, on their clothes. 

You straightened yourself out before looking up at the stranger. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!! I was in a rush because I didn’t want to be late for class and I wasn’t paying attention.” You looked at the guy, who had shrewd, calculating eyes and stared at you. “Um, I’ll probably be late, but I can buy you a drink to compensate?” You got a better look at the man, and despite being soiled with his drink, he was extremely handsome, with long braids accentuating his pretty face. And..silent. He was starting to freak you out. 

Meanwhile, in Ran Haitani’s mind, he didn’t know how to speak. He couldn’t gather his voice. What the hell is happening? He thought to himself. He was basically a professional flirt, so why was he struggling so much to recollect himself? He looked at the stranger before him. She was tinier than him, and stared at him apprehensively, and not to mention, she was incredibly cute. Beautiful. But not like anyone he was used to dealing with. He was used to dealing with girls with top-tier designer clothes, heavy makeup, and professionally done hair, and well... she was the opposite. She had a basic school uniform thrown on, which was disheveled, and a couple crumbs of food on her cheeks. And, she spilled a hot drink on him. So, how did Ran Haitani manage to fall so hard? 

“Hello, dude...are you good?? Yes or no to that offer? I’d really appreciate an answer fast. I need to go to school.” You asked him, nearing the end of your patience. He snapped out of his reverie that you placed him in. “Hm..I dunno...I, Ran Haitani might need something more...” And at that, he internally cringed. Where had his eloquence gone? I, Ran Haitani?? Who says that in this day and age?? So, therefore, Ran wasn’t surprised when you looked at him funny. “Well, pretty...how about a date with me, hm? I think that’s payment enough. And, I promise it’ll be fun.” That should do it, Ran thought. Most girls would swoon if they could spend one NANOSECOND with me. And, your disgusted face made his heart drop, and he felt nervous. This was the first time he was so desperate for a girl to say yes. He wondered how someone like you managed to have so much power over him. How did you make him, of all people become a simp?

“Um...no thank you. I’m not really into the arrogant pretty-boy asshole type. But look! Those girls are!” You exclaimed, pointing to a small group of screeching girls staring at Ran. You pushed past him, as he stood dumbfounded. But, you quickly turned back and pushed a wad of crumpled bills into his unsuspecting hand. 

“For the drink. Sorry for the disturbance, Ran Haitani.” And with that, you managed to make Ran Haitani come to a standstill. All he could do is stare at your distant figure, that retreated quickly.

[qcoded]

Small Analysis on Belos/Philip, and the many chances at Redemption he missed.

I think the reason why I loved the scene in Watching and Dreaming were The Collector hugged Belos while saying "I get it! You just need kindness and forgiveness, huh?" was because it encapsulated perfectly how many chances Belos didn't take to fucking redeem himself.

I think we all kinda know that if he was just self aware, and reflected on the shit he did for ONE damn second, maybe, just maybe he could have turned out way better than what ended up happening.

Analyzing his backstory and what we can decide actually happened with Caleb (mostly based on all the pictures that were released from Hollow Mind with additional ones), it's not like he was ever exempt from sympathy, don't get me wrong.

Can't really go into the reality that Caleb, being Philip's sole guardian, most likely abandoned him to go with Evelyn into the Boiling Isles (not with bad intentions but still) since THAT'S a whole 'nother can of worms, but like hey! It's fucking understandable, who wouldn't be hurt by that?

But at the same time, what Belos decided to do, it was all on his own accord.

It was all his own decisions tha he could have actually thought on but no! He was too stuck in his delusional beliefs.

Could have stopped anywhere. After he killed Caleb. After he was tricking and offing witches and demons. After the whole encounter with Luzura/Luz and Gertrude/Lilith. After the making of the Grimwalkers began. After instilling glyphs on witches.

There are probably more examples, but basically, Belos had so many damn chances.

But nope! Never took them.

And again, The Collector was so willing to forgive him, even after manipulating and using this kid for centuries on end. After all the horrific shit that Belos has done, there was still a sliver of hope for him to actually just think, 'What am I doing? '

Of course, that didn't happen. It was a 'Friendship is Magic, but gone wrong' and he attempted to kill The Collector once again.

You know what's the best part of this? That there's a scene that just adds onto what I'm saying perfectly.

Later on when Luz revived into the super cool form that is Titan!Luz, she ripped out Belos from the titan's curse. And when he reformed again, he turned into his Philip Wittebane look.

And he had the fucking audacity to blame that dark magic (presumably his curse) was the one who made him commit all those horrendous acts.

This would make pretty much be his very first, and only attempt towards redemption.

But the thing is, it's too late.

Belos threw out his very last chance at redemption with The Collector.

And now? He has nothing more but than to deal with the ultimate consequences that have been building up.

This is also why I'm not that mad that Belos wasn't shown to finally realize the severity of what he has done, or to feel all that built up guilt flow it.

It's because it shows amazingly how far up his ass he was in his beliefs that even when he was DYING, he was just too fucking stubborn.

The more ironic part, like I mentioned earlier, that 'dark magic' was pretty much just his curse. That I want to mention, is fucking SELF AFFLICTED. Belos was literally the one eating all those Palismen, which are the cause of the curse. He's quite literally blaming himself!

And even though he tried to claim that Luz somehow cured him, got quickly called out on his bullshit when the boiling rain revealed him to still be purely goop.

Till the last minute, he was trying to keep a facade that quite literally, crumbled.

TLDR; Belos ultimately gave up every chance to be a better person, and he pretty much got what was coming for him.

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Shadows of Grief

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 5,041

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav encounters a familiar face among the shadows. Part 28 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: If you were heartbroken at the end of the last chapter I have good news!! it gets worse.

“Tev?” Tav called out to him again.

She fell back onto the damp soil, staring in horror at the twisted version of her brother before her. Time seemed to slow down, her ears were ringing and the tears in her eyes blurred her vision. All of the air had been knocked from her lungs, making her chest heavy with grief as she gasped to catch her breath. The sight of Tev’aron consumed her, causing her trap of vines to disappear and allow the other enemies to approach unimpeded.

“Tav? TAV! What is she doing?!” She could hear Karlach trying to get her attention but couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off Tev.

“I’ve got it,” Gale yelled back as he unleashed a massive line of lightning through most of the shadows.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it was all an illusion. A trick of the light, a cruel amalgam of her tired mind and the shadows stirring around her. Anything but this.

But when she opened them again, Tev’s twisted, snarling corpse had stood up once more and was stalking his way toward her. She looked up with pleading eyes, hoping that somehow she could still reason with this cursed shell of a man, that her brother was still in there somewhere.

Before she knew it, a flurry of jabs caused Tev’s body to fall to the ground, completely lifeless. With it, the small beacon of hope she had sheltered and kept lit for a hundred years – through winds and storms and gloom – was snuffed out in an instant.

“What in the hells was that Tav?!” Astarion yelled, standing above her. He was breathing heavily as he sheathed his daggers. Their other companions focused on taking down the last few enemies.

Tav didn’t respond, she just crawled over to Tev’s body and began to sob, laying her head on his chest. Every ounce of grief and sorrow she had locked away over the last century came crashing down on her. With a growling scream, she grabbed a nearby rock and hurled it into the darkness in front of them, desperate to relieve the despair she felt welling up inside of her.

“Fuck! Fuck this fucking curse! Fuck these shadows!” She sobbed and gagged in between the screams. “FUCK!”

She stood up and continued to grab anything she could find to throw – rocks, bones, clumps of dirt – screaming and cursing until her voice was hoarse and her lungs couldn’t take in enough air to make a sound.

Her companions moved out of the way to give her space, concern and confusion apparent on all their faces. Exhausted, she collapsed back down on the ground and lifted Tev up to hold his head against her chest. It had been a hundred years since she had seen his face. To see him like this now…

“Tev…I’m so sorry…” She whispered her sobbing apology over and over as her tears soaked into his matted curls. Her hands gently stroked his hair, pushing stray pieces from his face.

“Tav?” Astarion’s voice was much softer now.

She still couldn’t respond; she kept sobbing into his hair until her entire torso ached from the guttural cries. Her body rocked back and forth, knuckles turning white from gripping his body so tight. A warm, golden light shone behind her, and a moment later a pair of large arms wrapped around her shoulders. Halsin pulled her close to him as she clutched Tev against her chest.

“He deserved better than this,” she choked out with gasping breaths.

“I know, Tav. They all did,” he whispered against her temple.

“Who is he?” Gale asked quietly.

“Tev’aron…my brother.” She could barely get the words out before another wave of sobs took over her. “To think he’s been here all this time…”

“His suffering has ended now. He can be at peace.” Halsin tried to assure her.

“Peace? There’s no peace here. Look around you!” She was yelling again, unable to control her rising temper. “All hope and light have abandoned this place. What chance do we have against it?”

He recoiled slightly at her harsh words, adding a layer of guilt to her grief.

“We still have a chance, Tav. I have to believe that, and I think you do too.” She buried her head further into his chest. He placed one of his hands over hers, helping her hold Tev’s body up.

“I can’t leave him here,” she whispered as she stroked Tev’s cheek.

“Here, soldier. Let me.” Karlach had come over to kneel next to her, tear lines staining her cheeks. She held out her arms and helped lift his body off the ground. “We can at least give him a proper burial, yeah?”

Tav nodded, still sniffling, tears continuing to fall down her face. She allowed Karlach to take her brother’s body into her arms. Halsin helped her stand up, one arm around her shoulders to steady her. Gale appeared on her other side, offering an arm for her to take.

They made the short walk back to their camp where Karlach carefully set Tev’s body on the ground at the edge of the small clearing. Tav sat down next to him and reached out to hold one of his hands. She ran her other hand over his hollow, sunken cheeks. The feel of his cold skin brought more tears to her eyes, he was always so warm. His tattoo was just barely visible beneath the dirt and grime coating his entire body, the tattoo that they had gotten together after she joined the Harpers. At some point, Lunari had made her way over to her, resting her head in Tav’s lap with a low whine.

She could hear the others quietly explaining what happened to the rest of the party. Their words were soft enough that she couldn’t make out the details, but she didn’t care. 

Karlach came to sit with her after a while, putting a warm arm around her shoulders.

“I’m really sorry, soldier. I wish I could have met him.” Karlach sniffled with her words.

“You would have liked each other, I think. He always did have a weakness for the tough ones. You would have had him wrapped around your finger the moment he saw you throw a goblin across the room.” Tav smiled weakly as she leaned into Karlach.

“I like the sound of that. That means we could have been sisters, you and me.” Karlach gave a light laugh.

“We don’t need Tev for that. I’m happy to call you my sister anyway.” The tears in Tav’s eyes spilled over again. “I think I could use a sister right about now.”

She hugged Karlach tighter, grateful for the extra warmth. They sat there together for a while, Tav telling stories from their childhood. How Tev always snuck her extra fruit tarts, and how he was the one who first taught her how to use a bow. She told Karlach about the day the curse was released, how she and Tev had been separated for weeks due to the fighting.

Eventually, Halsin joined them. He knelt on the other side of Tav and took one of her hands.

“We’re ready when you are, my friend. Let us help you give him peace.” He helped her stand as Karlach picked Tev up again.

They joined the rest of their companions just outside of the camp, a small grave had been dug into the dirt in front of them. Tav took a deep, shaky breath and followed Karlach over to them. She took a moment to whisper one final goodbye in Tev’s ear, giving him a soft kiss on the top of his head.

As Karlach moved to set him down, a small piece of parchment in his jacket pocket caught her eye. She quickly snatched the envelope. It was a letter with a name scribbled on the front.

Ria M.

She took the letter and held it against her chest before stashing it in her pocket. She didn’t have the strength to read it here and now.

Slowly, Karlach lowered Tev into the narrow grave. The others had a light sheet to place over his body. As the thin fabric fell over his head, the tears came back with a vengeance as she realized that it was truly the last time she would see his face. Gale appeared at her side, presenting her with a shovel. With shaking hands, she took the tool from him and scooped up a small pile of dirt.

“Beneath the sun. Beneath the moon,” she began in Elvish as she dumped the shovel full of dirt into the grave.

“My spirit like leaves, blown far to sea. I sail away to night eternal.” More dirt covering his body as Tav’s hands began to work furiously to shovel the soft soil over him.

“Do not mourn.” Her voice caught on the words, the tears running down her cheeks to mix with the dirt stuck there. Her breathing became more and more ragged each time she drove the shovel into the ground.

“I shall be reborn...”

Tav’s hands slipped along the handle of the shovel, causing her to fall to the ground. She stayed kneeling there, clutching the shovel against her as she sobbed.

“Yet my heart shall always be with you.” Halsin finished the prayer as he took the shovel from her and moved in another batch of dirt. The others took turns moving the rest of it. They all helped her place rocks along the top to protect the fresh grave.

Tav knelt at the edge of her brother’s final resting place. The heartbreak she felt was unlike any she had experienced before, paralyzing her, making her numb to the cool evening air. Halsin placed a comforting hand on her shoulder causing her to lean into his touch.

“I’m sorry my friend, but I must make haste to Last Light. If I can speak with the Flaming Fist there, I may be able to find a way for us to be rid of these shadows forever.” His voice was so hopeful, she hated how bitter it made her feel.

“Of course. I’m sure a couple of the others would be happy to help get you back there.” She tried to smile at him even as her lips trembled. He gave her a puzzled look in response, like he had hoped she would still accompany him.

“I just need some time alone. Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” She grabbed a nearby torch and turned to walk away.

“I understand.” His voice was low and reserved.

Tav had selfishly hoped that he would offer to stay with her. But she understood. The sooner he could find out a way to be rid of these shadows for good, the better. She hoped the disappointment wasn’t too obvious in her expression. Lunari followed her, but Tav stopped and held out her hand.

“No, girl. Stay here.” The wolf whined in protest, but dropped her haunches into the dirt.

As she made her way towards the trees, dragging her feet in the dirt, she somehow managed to keep the rest of her tears in her eyes until she was out of view of the camp.

***

Halsin watched Tav shuffle away into the dark, her shoulders slumped and head hung low. He vividly remembered the feeling of seeing someone you love warped by this vicious curse. Despite his numerous friends and allies that fell here, he had been lucky to avoid such an ordeal since they had returned.

“You should go talk to her.” Karlach walked up beside him. “She’ll listen to you.”

“I have no words that can comfort this kind of grief, Karlach. She just needs time.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t truly believe them. “My focus must return to banishing these shadows, once and for all. For Tav and her brother…for everyone.” His chest tightened with each syllable.

“Hmph. I guess I was wrong then.” She sounded disappointed, maybe even angry.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. Karlach let out a long sigh.

“I thought that you liked her, that you cared about her, y’know? The way you two pair up around camp cuddling in front of the fire, the way you flirt even though you’re both terrible at it. Don’t think we haven’t all noticed how she’s the first person you check for injuries whenever we return to camp.” Karlach gave him a small smile.

“I do care for her, but you don’t know what you’re asking of me, Karlach. I’ve waited over a hundred years for this chance. I…I can’t risk losing it.” That familiar pull in his chest was irresistible, yearning to drag him after Tav. The invisible tether binding their hearts together was pulled even tighter with every step she took away from him.

“You wouldn’t even have that chance if it wasn’t for her!” Karlach yelled before releasing a heavy sigh to calm herself.

“If you’ve really waited that long, Halsin…what’s a couple more hours?” Her voice was softer now as she placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

Halsin considered her words for a moment. The last century worth of meditations and prayers had been filled with desperate pleas for answers, for knowledge. Knowledge that he could finally put to use. He thought back to his growing despair every time he reached out to try and find Thaniel, only to be met with silence. He thought back to the defeat he felt at his capture, truly believing he would die at the hands of the goblins, believing he had lost the chance to banish these shadows.

Then, he thought of Tav.

Alone, grieving, and full of guilt…just as he had been all those years ago. Just as he still was now. No one had come to comfort him. He had just been named Archdruid, he was given no time to mourn. Tav was the one who came to his rescue, she was the beacon of hope he had prayed for over the last century, his guiding light in a world of darkness. Thinking of her alone, surrounded by shadow was enough to nearly knock him to his knees.

Oak Father, forgive me.

Halsin took a deep breath and patted Karlach’s hand on his shoulder.

“You are a good friend, Karlach.” She grinned back at him. He started to move forward but turned back to her.

“Am I really that bad at flirting?” he asked.

“Yes,” Astarion’s voice called out from somewhere behind Karlach, she let out a loud laugh.

“Not as bad as Tav though. Go on, go get your girl, bear man.” She was still smiling at him.

He grabbed a torch and ran after Tav.

***

Tav didn’t know where she was going, just that she couldn’t sit around the campfire with everyone tonight. In her heart, she always knew that Tev had died, but some deep, dark part of her held on to the smallest sliver of hope. She hoped in her worst nights that he had escaped somewhere, that he was scouring the lands of Faerûn so they could be together once more. That hope kept her going through countless lows, the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find her brother again.

Now, what did she have? A group of battered, exhausted adventurers, plagued with mind flayer tadpoles and a host of other problems. Hopeless pining after a druid who seemed so afraid of his past that he wasn’t willing to look for a future. Hundreds of years of life ahead of her, with no family and no one to share it with.

She stopped at a large tree with huge roots sticking out of the ground. There was a little divot between the roots big enough for her to sit in. She drove the end of her torch into the cold dirt, sitting next to it and leaning against the rough trunk. The ever-present chill in the air reminded her of her creeping loneliness. Pulling her legs close to her chest, she allowed her grief to consume her. The headache forming behind her eyes protested at her sobs. Her eyelids fluttered closed, desperate for rest she knew wouldn’t come.

Suddenly, she was sprinting through the streets of the Lower City, the cool stone scraping her bare feet. Tav’ahria was desperately trying to keep up with Tev’aron who was attempting to lead her to a safe house. They hadn’t said a word since they fled the party, they only ran. 

What remained of the train of her gown kept snagging on various objects as she dashed through alleys and around corners after Tev. And each time she would slice a shred of the soft fabric free with the dagger he had given her, frantically trying to keep herself from slowing down. She wasn’t sure if they were even being followed anymore, but she didn’t dare spare a glance behind her.

Eventually, Tev stopped and grabbed her arm to pull her into an inn. She took a moment to catch her breath, wiping away the sweat dripping from her brow. Many of the tiny braids weaved into her hair had come loose and were sticking out from her head in a wild pattern. The skirt of her dress hung around her knees in tattered shreds from cutting away the snagged pieces.

“Wait here, Ria. Don’t talk to anyone until I return.” He squeezed her shoulders lightly and disappeared into the small crowd.

She leaned her head back against the wall as she scanned the room before her. Patrons of all shapes, sizes, and colors talked and laughed among the tables. Pretty, young barmaids navigated their way around the room with expertise, spinning around drunken customers while delivering drinks and cleaning tables. 

The room had a liveliness that was unfamiliar to her. She had attended her fair share of parties and balls, but none felt as alive as this gathering in front of her. She was used to polite, idle chatter and elegant, stuffy music echoing off grand walls. But here…everyone was loud and crude, the only music came from a bard off in the corner who was being drowned out by those singing along to his songs.

The singing was terrible, the bard’s lute was in need of a good tuning, and the smell of ale mixed with something unidentifiable made her stomach churn a bit. Yet somehow, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen in her long life. It took her a moment to identify the feeling.

Freedom.

The laughs and chatter around her brought tears to her eyes. She ached to meld into the crowd. To laugh and drink and play cards until the sun started to rise. Without thinking, she took a step forward, longing to feel as carefree as everyone around her.

“Ria!” Tev reappeared beside her. “This way.” He tilted his head towards a door to the side of the building. He had grabbed a cloak and threw it around her shoulders, pulling the hood up over her head to obscure her appearance. 

She gave one last wistful look to the room behind her as he pulled her into another alley. Tears flowed down her cheeks, cooling her face with the evening breeze.

“Hey, hey…” Tev turned to face her once they were outside. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She smiled up at him as she wiped the tears away using the cloak he had given her. Unable to help herself, she started to laugh uncontrollably. He gave her a worried look.

“I’m free…I can do what I want. I can laugh and drink and curse and dance and…” The smile on her face kept getting wider and wider. “I can do whatever it is normal people do. Why did I wait this long? Why did I stay there?”

Tev gave her a hug that threatened to crush her spine. She hugged him back and cried into his shoulder.

“Come on, our ride should be here any minute. The Harpers have enclaves everywhere, we can lay low for a while to make sure we’re safe.” Tev pulled away and smiled down at her.

He led her to the edge of the alley where it met the road, peering around the corner. A small horse-drawn cart was making its way towards them. It slowed as it approached the alley, and Tev quickly tugged her toward the back of it. He pulled her up to sit among the crates and barrels as it resumed its traveling speed. The person up front turned to give a nod to Tev, which he returned. The cart bounced along the cobblestone roadways as it made its way toward the outskirts of the Lower City, causing their shoulders to bump together periodically.

A welcome fog started to settle over the city, giving them even more cover to make their escape. The lights dimmed in the mist as it swirled around her face to form a light layer of cold moisture on her skin.

Tav’ahria wrapped the cloak she was wearing tight around her body, trying to fight off the evening chill. Tev put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She sighed as she leaned on his shoulder, her eyelids starting to feel heavy.

“You came back,” she whispered.

“Of course I did.” He leaned his head down to rest on hers. “I’ll always come back for you, Ria.”

Tav blinked and returned to the shadows, still as heavy and dark as they were one hundred years ago. She had searched for Tev for months after the curse was unleashed. Desperately seeking anyone who had witnessed the battle to inquire about his whereabouts. For years after, she kept tabs on Harper safe houses and enclaves, hoping that he would make his way through their underground network. No one knew his fate, whether he fell to a sword or succumbed to the curse, or if he was hiding out somewhere, still alive and awaiting a rescue that would never come.

But she knew now. He had been trapped here all this time, being warped by this wicked, unnatural darkness. The guilt she felt was crushing her, she felt unable to move under its weight.

“I should have come back for you, Tev…” she whispered the words, knowing they would disappear into the shadows.

Who would come back for her now? Who would drag her from these nightmares and run with her to safety?

You’re just a lonely little flower again, wilting away in the dark.

***

Tav’s footprints led Halsin to a small, nearby clearing. There was a large tree at its edge, and he found her curled up against the trunk, nestled among bulky roots. He called out to her in a gentle voice.

“Tav?” No response, only stifled sniffles. He took a few more steps toward her.

“May I come sit?” he asked, waiting for any invitation to do so. She nodded, the movement barely visible with her shoulders heaving.

He sat close to her, the rough bark of the tree scratching against his clothing. Tentatively, he reached out to place a hand on her back. Her shoulders were tense, and it felt like her entire body was shaking.

“I thought you were going back to Last Light.” Her voice was raspy and strained.

“It can wait just a bit longer. I think I belong here with you right now.” Karlach’s words echoed in his mind.

“I’m so sorry you had to see him like this, Tav…” he trailed off, slowly stroking her back.

“I can’t stand the thought of him being here, Halsin. Buried away in a strange land, without even the sun to shine on his grave.”

A sadness most familiar to him as well. His entire family had passed, but at least they rested in their home of High Forest. There was little he wouldn’t do to ensure they didn’t have to spend eternity in a place like this.

“It doesn’t have to be this way forever.” His own voice was beginning to crack. “We can bring the light back to Moonrise.”

She turned to look at him, her face lined with the trails from her tears. Not a trace of hope could be seen in her reddened eyes. He held his other arm out, inviting her to come lean against him. Her bottom lip started quivering, and she dove into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. She had both arms wrapped tight around his waist, clinging to him as if he was her only anchor to the ground. The sudden movement startled him, but he quickly relaxed into her warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she mumbled into his shirt between sobs.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know all too well the pain of being back in this accursed forest.” He leaned his head down to rest on hers.

They sat huddled against the tree together. The only sounds were Tav’s cries, slowly calming as she relaxed in his arms. He felt a surprising amount of relief sitting here, holding her.

I have given you all that you need. Find your balance. You know the way.

The Oak Father’s words drifted to the front of his mind.

Perhaps you don’t have to do this alone.

Halsin was the one to finally break the silence.

“For decades I have begged Silvanus’s favor, desperate for answers. I have been so consumed by grief and despair, so convinced that I had to banish this ancient evil on my own, that I could not see the gift he finally sent me.” He paused to take a deep breath before continuing.

“Even when she dragged me from the maws of the goblin camp.”

Tav tilted her head to look up at him, wiping a line of tears and snot from her face. A few of the stray hairs from her braid were now stuck to her cheeks.

“Now that I have you here with me, I’ve come to realize that I cannot do this alone.” Admitting this to her was a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He peeled the stray strands from her face and tucked them behind her ears.

“Do you really have a way to lift the curse?” she asked.

“Perhaps. I won’t know for sure until I can talk with the Flaming Fist. If Thaniel is alive, I need more information to guide me. I can’t just charge in blind, or I’ll likely end up lost myself.” He could hear the frustration creeping into his voice.

Tav studied him for a while. With each passing moment, the look in her eyes became more and more intense.

“Then…we’ll find a way to wake him up. We won’t leave this place until the shadows are banished. Forever.” There was a sudden strength in her words that made his heartbeat quicken.

“I’ve already asked so much of you.” The strength in his own words faltered as hers grew.

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.” Her eyes had cleared and the hopelessness he had seen before was now replaced with determination. “If you think it can be done, we’ll make it happen.”

Halsin’s breathing became unsteady, looking into her eyes brought all the desire of the past weeks to the front of his mind. Finally, he had someone to share this burden with, someone who understood his pain. For so long, he had pushed away any possible distraction, and now he found himself so close to achieving his goals…but that selfish ache returned to his chest.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers before giving her the softest of kisses. Their lips just barely brushed against each other. It was all he could afford right now. The light touch was still enough to send his heart aflutter.

She blinked at him a few times after he pulled away. A surprised smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. He took one of her hands in his and held it against his chest.

“I care about you, Tav,” he whispered, struggling to contain the urge to take her into his arms for the night, to feel every inch of her skin pressed against his own. “I know that you wish for us to be more than this but…” He closed his eyes and sighed.

“My guilt and my duty to this land have weighed on me for some time. One day I hope my heart will be free to roam again but until then…I’m afraid that this is all I have to offer for now.” He looked down at the ground, almost ashamed to admit it.

Tav’s other hand came up to rest on his cheek, her thumb tracing the lines on his face. She moved her hand up to the hair falling around his ears, allowing her fingers to gently run through the strands. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into her touch.

“I’ll take it.”  She put her head back down on his shoulder and hugged him closer to her. He wrapped his arms back around her to hold her in place, a relieved sigh escaping from his lips.

I’ll take it.

He never knew those three words could sound so sweet.

“Okay, enough wallowing.” Tav sniffled after a few minutes and stood up, wiping the tears from her face. “We need to get you to Last Light.”

“Are you sure? If you’re not feeling up for it yet, I’m sure the others can get me there.”

“I’m sure. Let’s send this curse back up Shar’s fucking ass where it belongs.” She held her hand out to help him up. A proud grin came over his face.

There’s that righteous rage.

“I need no further encouragement.” Halsin let her pull him to his feet. She threw her arms around his neck once more in a hug.

“Thank you, Halsin,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“Anytime, Tav.” He pulled her tight against him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She tried to pull away, but he held her there a few moments longer, not quite ready to let go and face his destiny just yet.

[fixated-on-something]

I think about the magicians too much so here are some of my favourite quotes

Silly ones

Julia and Quentin: DO WE NOT AMUUUUUSE?

Julia: We made up that dance and it was TERRIBLE!

Quentin: oh god

Julia: It was so.. white.. and BAD.

Penny: I like your sweater

Quentin: Are you saying that to be cruel?

Penny: No. I like your sweater, I saw no reason not to share

Quentin: Well then, shall we go fuck some shit up?

Penny: Yes.

Margo: Yes.

Eliot: Yes definitely. Definitely yes.

Penny: Agreed. Feelings are bullshit.

Alice: Is that a traveller thing?

Penny: It’s a hearing voices thing

Alice: Well at least it beats whatever you were snorting

Penny: Marginally.

Kady: Ok, Mindslut?

Quentin: I don’t know you EITHER, except that we just summoned a killer MOTHMAN from another WORLD!

Marina: Did you figure you wanted to learn magic at your blow dry last week?

Penny: You’re welcome. (Blows kiss)

Quentin: What does that mean????

Quentin: you really don’t have to try to make me feel better we basically just met

Eliot: Well, I bond fast. Time is an illusion…

Eliot: How about I find you, and I don’t say magic is real, but I do seduce you and so lift your spirits that life retains its sparkle for decades…

Quentin: …yeah that sounds nice thank you

Dream Alice: If you would shut up for 2 seconds this sex dream could pass the Bechtel test, Quentin

Eliot: Once one of them offered to blow me for a spell. It was barely worth it.

Quentin: Is someone being creepy on purpose?

Margo: that is…. Not super consistent with the books

Quentin (genuinely very distressed): no!!! It’s not!!!! And I find that devastating!!! ☹️

Quentin: You can’t possibly want to be a dick more than you want to live!

Eliot: Oh yes very pristine, it’s been taken over by a kiddy diddling mutant.

Penny: The hell are you drinking?

Alice: I don’t know- triple sec?

Penny: What did Quentin do.

Margo: So we are fucked without grease

Quentin: Sounds like us

Eliot: Must be a Monday. Onward to glory.

Penny: Whoa WHOA WE ARE NOT. NOT. Killing a U.S. senator. But we will commit a felony… almost as stupid.

Eliot: IHEREBYDECREE! Rulers… done gonna rumble.

Margo: Ps we still hate you, but it’s the 21st century it shouldn’t be this hard for a girl to get an evil demigod abortion.

Niffin Alice: what’s this bitch doing in my room?

Margo: By agreeing to marry a stranger on the spot?

Eliot: I did it!

Margo: That was different.

Eliot: You’re right. This would only really be equivalent if Ess was a girl, and you found pussy you know, interesting in a ‘sometimes you like Thai food’ kinda way and now it’s all Thai food forever TILL YOU DIE.

Eliot: Hooolyyy shit the walking plot twist returns

Penny: Hi I need something

Eliot: Shocker. Hey Fen look it’s Uncy Penny! That’s right, I knocked her up. No big deal.

Penny: Uh- congratulations?

Eliot: like I needed more people calling me daddy but yes, thanks, we’re… thrilled.

Eliot: I am in way over my head. I’m not even in control of which of my bodies is awake and my sexually aggressive wife- she could wake me up at any moment in Fillory and-

Fogg: There are certain student teacher boundaries which I prefer not to cross.

Penny: “Let’s go hunt the white lady?” People like me get SHOT for saying shit like that.

NOW THE HEART SHATTERING ONES

Eliot: Do you think it’s real?

Quentin: Some of the good parts have to be. At least I hope so.

Eliot: Things aren’t usually worth caring about

Margo: Eliot he’s gone. why are your torturing yourself?

Eliot: Because he’s gone. And it’s my fault. And of all the people in the world who don’t understand, somehow you top the list.

Quentin: Every book every movie… is about one special guy. The chosen. You know in real life, for every one guy there are a billion people who aren’t.

Margo: I'm a king. Not a goddamn princess. A king.

Julia: I think it’s because it happened. And there’s nothing… magic about it anymore.

Emily: I don’t blame myself. Except for when I first wake up… and when I go to bed, and all the time in between.

Then obviously any quite related to 3x05 and pretty much the entirety of The Mountain Of Ghosts

I missed a bunch and these are mostly season 1-2 because that’s when I was taking notes during my rewatch

[paracosmic-murdock]

i still got love for you

part four: i hope for you

pairing: francesca bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: leaving for bath out of the sudden was the hardest thing you had had to do, not particularly because you had left your parents and home behind, but because your friendship with francesca bridgerton was ripped away from you a sudden summer morning.

five years later, francesca arrived in bath for the season to practice pianoforte with her aunt winnie, and finally, you see her again after thinking you had forever lost her. how much you wanted for your love to live and beat still, how much you wanted for francesca to say so.

warnings/tags: sapphic francesca bridgerton, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, am i gay quiz but make it nineteenth century somehow, smut, minors dni, inspired by an emily dickinson intimate letter to susan hunington dickinson, song: seven (taylor swift)

word count: 3.7K

❁ part one | part two | part three | part five | part six

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

“Susie, will you indeed come home next Saturday, and be my own again, and kiss me as you used to? I hope for you so much, and feel so eager for you, feel that I cannot wait, feel that now I must have you — that the expectation once more to see your face again makes me feel hot and feverish, and my heart beats so fast.” (Excerpt from Open me carefully: Emily Dickinson's intimate letters to Susan Hunington Dickinson by Emily Dickinson)

“That is your favorite breakfast.”

You stopped playing with your fork and looked at him. “I am not hungry.”

He ate the last bite of his dish. “Oh, and why would that be? The last time you ate was for lunch yesterday and it was almost nothing.”

“I do not know. Perhaps I am tragically ill.”

“Clearly,” He scoffed sarcastically. “You miss her.”

“I don't miss anybody, Charles. I just feel unwell.” you stated.

“You, Sister, are a terrible liar.”

“And you, Brother, are delusional.”

He shook his head and stood up, putting the napkin you had embroidered on the table before storming off without any explanation.

You rolled your eyes, drinking your berry tea.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you were pensive because you missed Francesca.

You haven't seen her since dinner a couple of weeks ago, and you couldn't help but feel bad about it.

Three days after that evening, you went to her aunt's home but were told she was not there. You left a message for her: she was invited to join you for tea the next day or whenever she wanted to, for you would be at your home every day.

You canceled quite some plans just in case she went, but she never did. And you were devastated.

It was a lovely evening, and you thought everything went really well. Perhaps it was because you had called her darling. You felt it was proper at the moment, but now, not anymore. Now, in your mind, you have made her feel uncomfortable and lost her forever.

Charles’ mind was known for hardly being made up.

Dilemma was almost his second name, and it was no secret. Always a dilemma, and now wasn't the exception.

He hates to see you upset and hurting. You are his sister, and ever since you were born, he vowed to love you and protect you. And after your parents sent you away, it was his biggest purpose.

Right now, he had no choice but to tell Francesca Bridgerton, in front of him, the reason he was there.

Charles cleared his throat. “I suppose you have an idea as to why I am here.”

“Charles…”

“Frannie, did she do something wrong?”

“No, I just…” She sighed. “I have not been feeling very well lately, that is all.”

“Are you sure?” he questioned, not quite believing her.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“My sister has been punishing herself for your absence, and… it breaks me to see her like this,” he mentioned. Francesca felt her heart break at the thought of you hurting. “Why don't you come for lunch at our home? I shall have the cooks do something you like.”

“Uh, we were invited for lunch at the Maguire's home, I am sorry…” she lied.

Charles sighed. “When can we receive you, then?”

“I do not know.” she said, looking down to her hands.

He stood up. “I really hope you know she is hurting because of your absence. She did those five years, and she has these past weeks. She loves you, and I know you love her too. And no, not in a friendly manner.”

And, just like that, he left.

Francesca sighed and watched him leave, not able to decide what to do. To stop him. To ask him. To do anything.

In truth, the reason Francesca has not visited you in weeks is because she was scared of loving you. Not for being you, but for being a woman.

Her aunt Winnie had asked her if Lord Chadwick was courting her, but she didn't quite know what to say. She just said she did not know, but her aunt was convinced he was.

Understandably so, because no man would just invite a young lady to his home so many times if he didn't have any intention to court her. What she didn't know was that the one interested in her was you. Another lady.

After the implications regarding your brother, Francesca's aunt remarked how important it was for her to marry a gentleman, a good man, wealthy, and with title. The only one Francesca wanted was you.

You, you, you… No one else.

It pained her to know that her actions were affecting you, especially because the last thing she ever wanted was to make you feel bad. She loved you, and she knew that when you love somebody, you want that person to be happy.

But you could never feel fine or happy without Francesca. You couldn't deny that. Nor would she, especially now that you have reunited. And now that she knew that you loved her, too.

In all honesty, you calling her darling was unexpected and spooked her more than she was willing to admit. Maybe because it was a term of endearment and no one had used it on her before, or maybe because you used it, confirming she was your darling. Yours. Oh, how much Francesca longed to be yours.

So she thought about you during the lunch at Chadwick House she was invited to attend but wasn't intending to, during the afternoon she would've spent playing pianoforte instead, and during the evening she was supposed to get ready to sleep but didn't. Her aunt went to sleep, and she did quite the opposite, sneaking to the backyard to get you flowers, and leaving her home for the purpose of finding you.

Francesca did not particularly come up with a plan, so when she saw herself in front of the entrance to Chadwick House without a way to get in, she got worried. However, she didn't have to worry for much longer because Charles opened the door some minutes later.

“Charles!” She flinched and hid her hands behind her back as he suddenly appeared in front of her with a confused frown.

“Francesca?” He grinned. “What are you doing here?”

Francesca shook her head. “I- uh… I came to- nothing! I was just- I am going back.”

“Frannie, with all due respect,” Charles sighed, grabbing her forearm to stop her from leaving. “Shut up. My sister is in her chambers. Third floor, second door to the left.”

“Sorry,” She pouted. “I guess-”

“Lord save me! You two are driving me mad!” he exclaimed as he covered his face with his hands. “Get in there, Francesca, and don't you dare leave before resolving whatever it is that you two have going.”

With that, he left her there and got on the awaiting carriage she had failed to notice before.

Francesca sighed, walking inside the house and following your brother's directions until she reached your door.

She knocked, but received no answer, so she opened the door to find your room empty. Francesca guessed that, perhaps, you had gone out for a walk, so she went downstairs and ended up looking at you from afar.

You were sitting in the swing and looking at the night sky in utter silence, and she almost didn't dare to interrupt you. She, however, had a purpose for her visit and wouldn't let the courage she had gathered go to waste.

Francesca sat silently in the swing beside yours without saying a word.

“Charles, I told you to let me be.” you groaned, looking opposite from 'his' face.

She cleared her throat. “This is not Charles.”

You turned around abruptly to face her.

Dear God.

“Francesca-” you whispered, almost not believing it. “Are you truly here?”

“Yes, I am here,” She smiled, showing you the tulip of an unknown color in the dark. “But, firstly, this is for you.”

You smiled weakly.

At the silence, she spoke. “I, uh- I had to see you.”

“What for?”

“To apologize,” she replied and sighed, getting ready for the speech she had prepared the whole afternoon. “For not coming back after dinner. I… I was scared because you called me darling, and it made me realize that I might not be… alone in these feelings I find impossible to name. It felt real out of the sudden, and I was not prepared for it. I thought about them all those days and reached to a conclusion I was dreading: that I love you. Not like a girl who is fond of her childhood best friend or like a girl who has such dear affection for a sister, no; I love you like one loves the person that is to be their spouse, their love match. I know well enough that this is not something a woman is supposed to feel for another woman, but I do, and I have reasons to believe you do as well. Please, tell me I am not alone in this feeling, for I believe that love could never be as profound as mine for you were it not reciprocated.”

You grabbed the rope of her swing and pulled her close to you. “I love you, my darling. I love you so much that I fear the word love is not enough to grasp all that I feel for you. It is pathetic, the way your proximity makes my whole being combust in yearning; it is alluring, the way your eyes can heal all that chaos when they look into mine. Having you here with me, under the full moon and in a field of violets, is the utmost proof of how sacred this love is. How sacred we must treat it. Being yours is the ultimate purpose of my existence, and I would be beyond grateful to you if you allowed me to honor it by loving you devotedly and cherishing you adoringly.”

Francesca exhaled and hesitated for a single, intrusive second. She, right then and there, kissed your lips softly. There was doubt and insecurity, but you managed to wash it out by kissing her back with a passion she couldn't have even dreamt of.

“Would you like to stay for the night? It is far too late for you to return home by yourself and we do not have another carriage available. I fear Charles will not return until tomorrow.” you proposed, standing up and offering her your hand to do so, too.

Francesca nodded, now standing as well, and staring at your lips.

You smirked, closing the distance promptly.

You did not know how to kiss, but the two of you would certainly learn that night.

Of course there was an extra room, but there was no need for that. Despite the last sleepover being five years ago, there was still this feeling of comfort and intimacy shared between you and her.

“I know that sharing a bed has never been an issue for us,” you began. “But, if you wish, I could have the help bring another bed for you.”

“No!” she exclaimed, regretting the haste and reluctance of her answer. “I mean, no. It is not necessary, for your bed is big enough for the both of us.”

You nodded with a smile. “Would you like for me to get a maid to help you get ready to sleep? I might as well call-”

“No, There should be no need. We could help each other, is that not right?” she answered shyly. You were surprised to hear that, but thought nothing of it, ignoring the warmth taking over your body at the mere idea. “I- well, I- I did not mean it like… if you… if you want to. I do not have a problem. If you do, it is alright if you-”

“Yes, it is alright.” you agreed, approaching her and pointing to the bed with your head. “I had a maid bring a sleeping chemise for you… should you like for me to-?”

She nodded, undoing her coiffure before you got to her. “Yes, I should like for you to help me now.”

Francesca didn't know what was going on in herself. Her words seemed to come out before she could process them and her intentions were rather unclear even to herself.

Now, she was in front of you. Your hesitant hands trembled lightly as you started taking her dress off. Francesca let out a soft gasp when your fingers grazed her skin, noticing your closeness as she leaned closer to you, not creating contact just yet but desiring so, so very anxiously. You started undoing her corset slowly, trying to take in every second of proximity existent between you, the fervid hunger invading the moment.

Francesca let out a shaky breath, leaning toward you and, this time, she was actually resting her weight on you timidly. She whispered your name, almost silently enough for you to not hear.

But you always heard her.

Her head was resting on your shoulder, touching your cheek with her cheekbones. “I love you.”

You kissed her cheek gently and then went to her neck. You left slight bites on her skin and moaned as she pressed herself onto you slightly more.

“I love you, too,” you reminded her, and it felt as if it was the very first time you told her so. “I will never not.”

You kissed her shoulders and put your hands on her hips.

“I think we are…” you whimpered as she intertwined your hands with hers. “We are doing something we most likely should not.”

She exhaled with difficulty. “What would that be?”

“I saw them,” you began. “Anne and Petunia, my maids, they- I saw them doing this.”

“This?”

“Making love.”

Your answer left her in a place between confusion and oblivious understanding. She knew, but also she did not.

“What does it mean?”

“I went for a late night walk in the backyard and heard some noises,” you told her. “Chadwick House is not as big as the Devereaux Manor, so we do not need as much help, nor do we have enough room for more. Some of the help that stays at the house has to share a room, so my two lady maids do. I know where their room is, so, upon hearing the sounds, I peeked through the window in case something had happened. And I saw them… As soon as my shock subsided, I ran back to my chambers, but not without seeing them like we are now. They were kissing and touching each other, nude.”

Francesca frowned. “How do you know what it is called?”

“A few days later, I asked Charles about it, but I never said I had seen them. I told him I had heard it somewhere,” you answered. “He panicked and told me not to speak of such things ever again. Then, he said those are things men and women do after they marry, but that some men do it without marrying and that it was normal, but respectable ladies like me could not do so under any circumstance… So, naturally, I ended up asking Anna about it and blaming it on Charles. She said that it is called making love and that people do it to consummate their marriage. I told her that Charles said some men do, but that ladies like me cannot, so she explained to me that it is said that women lose their worth after doing that and must be valuable for deserving a marriage. Also, we could get pregnant when doing it with a man, but men do not have to worry about themselves being with child; I, then, asked if men did it with men or women with women, and she said it was possible but not well seen at all, so I should not do it unless I love and trust the woman, but that I must be careful and not tell a soul about it because it was a display of love, goodness, and intimacy that deserves to be cherished and not broken by society's discrimination. Anne also said that it is supposed to feel quite pleasurable. That is how I know.”

She nodded, taking a few seconds to think about it and analyze the situation.

“Can we… do that?” Francesca asked, some boldness whose origin she unfortunately ignored.

“Oh,” Your eyes met hers as she turned around. “Well, if you want to… I mean, I want to, but only if you do as well, uh… Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to make love with you.” She smiled confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Francesca assured you, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Can I take off your gown?”

A soft exhale left your lips at the thought. “You can take all of me, my darling.”

Francesca smiled a little, pressing her forehead to yours. Your noses brushed each other's before you kissed.

And, when it happened, you could only describe it as mystical. With her, everything felt like magic.

You thought, more often than not, that you weren't built for this world. You weren't built for this society because you wanted nothing but her and to be able to dance with her at balls, to just say ‘this is my wife’ to everyone you met, to love her freely.

You weren't built for a society that kept you away from her.

You wanted to be with her like this always, to feel the tip of her fingers brush your skin and cause goosebumps, to stand naked before her and her before you, just like you were now.

“What are we supposed to do now?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Shall we find out?”

She chuckled nervously, feeling like the fire lighting up the room was actually inside of her. Francesca nodded, giving you the needed cue to end the distance between you two and kiss her.

It was hesitant at first. You didn't know what to do with your hands, so you just put her hair behind her ear, deepened the kiss, and then cupped her face. Meanwhile, Francesca freed your hair and rested her hands on your shoulders, not knowing what to do either.

She ended the kiss, looking at you with a glint of need in her shy hazel eyes. She sighed, all her fears leaving her body with that exhale. Her hands went to the back of your neck to pull you close and began kissing there, imitating what you were doing when you helped her undress.

You held her by her waist and her hands traveled your shoulders and her fingers drew burning, irregular shapes on your back. “This feels good.”

“It does.” She smiled against your skin.

In an attempt to get closer, you put your leg between hers and pulled her until your skin was on hers. Which also meant that you were close enough for your thigh to touch her core.

The moan she let out was almost delirious and the way her hips bucked in response caused her thigh to stumble upon you.

Your eyes met, both silently agreeing that what you just did felt, oh, so good.

Francesca swallowed hard and looked down as she bucked her hips to provoke the same feeling to both of you.

“God,” you moaned, holding her tightly against you and moving like she moved. “My bed.”

When you pulled apart to go to the bed, a strange emptiness took over you. It was not only emotional, as if missing each other a bit; it was physical, too. A warm and wet something was left on your thighs as a result of your pleasure, which came as a surprise because neither of you had any idea what any of what you were doing was, but you did know how good it felt.

Once you were finally sitting on your bed, you looked at each other as if asking for permission, but then you realized how absurd it was to ask, to wait, to hesitate, so you kissed, this time hungrily and intensely. The way you clumsily returned to your previous position gave away how much you needed each other.

You were so clumsy and careless, that this time it wasn't your thighs but your cores that met, and you cried out at how terribly delicious that contact felt.

“This… feels so…” Francesca began, not able to come up with the words that could describe how she was feeling, so she just kept moving with you and moaning your name loudly.

“Good?” you panted.

“Better than- than good,” she replied, her breath labored. “Great.”

Hearing her be vocal about this was unexpected to say the least. However, you found it exciting and hot. “How do you feel, Fran?” you encouraged her to speak, craving to hear her say things about this very wonderful moment.

“Great,” she replied, a strange pressure building inside her very being. “This- I like… this.”

You kissed her eagerly, harshly, to then ask. “Do you?”

“Yes…” She nodded, kissing you again as your hands traveled to her hips and then used the contact to guide her to be faster and pull her close enough to apply more pressure.

Francesca broke the kiss, her head falling back and giving you access to her neck. You sucked her skin, beginning to notice how she had some burning red spots on the places your mouth has been to before.

A desperate moan left your lips when a sensation started to form deep inside you, and she was feeling it, too. You could only describe it as if you were running from a great distance to a cliff, and everything you were doing in the earthly world made the inside you run faster and faster until you reached the edge. And there, Francesca was waiting for you to see how you slowed down for a second, only so she could hold your hand and jump with you.

In both the earthly and imaginary world, you moaned her name loudly as you fell off the edge of the cliff, or as you came with her.

She moaned and gasped, and hid her head against your neck to muffle the sounds she was making.

“Do not hold back,” you told her, feeling your orgasm last so very long. “I wish to hear you, please.”

Francesca obeyed you, pressing her forehead to yours and moaning your name against your lips.

It was so innocent, yet so sensual. It felt right, but, oh, so immoral. And carnal. And fascinating. Scandalous, beautiful, mystical, sinful.

You didn't stop until it was too much. Her embrace didn't end, and she wanted anything but.

“I love you.” you whispered, guiding her to lie on the bed with you.

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

“I am so happy that you still had love for me.” You kissed her softly.

“I will always have love for you.” Francesca replied.

You stared at each other in silence. Her hand was on your cheek, caressing it, and yours drew delicate patterns on the soft skin of her hips.

“Can we do this again?” Francesca asked.

You smiled. “Can we?”

“I should like that.”

“Me as well.”

taglist: @swiftholic-13 @kenzieisgone @urmultifandomfan

[laundrybiscuits]

(wait for the season to come back to me tag)

“We still on for dinner this Thursday, or are you gonna reschedule again? Because I swear to god, Steve, I will break into your apartment and set up camp if I have to. It’s been years. Centuries.”

“It’s been a month, Henderson.”

“I barely remember who you are anymore. What’s your name again? How do I know you? We’re actually very happy with our current cable provider, thanks.”

God, that kid is such an asshole. Steve loves the shit out of him.

“Listen, I’ll see you on Thursday and explain everything, okay? Actually, uh—I’m kinda calling to give you a heads-up. Got some big news, so you should, like…brace yourself.”

Dustin’s quiet for a long, worrying moment.

“Steve. You have got to know that that’s the least helpful thing you could possibly say. You’re not even gonna give me a hint, man?”

“Wish I could. It’s not a bad thing, okay? Just big. Like…Upside Down big.”

“Okay, for my own peace of mind, I’m going to pretend you’re completely overreacting about the fact that you, like, got a dog or something.”

“I’m not—”

“Peace of mind, Steve! See you Thursday at my place! Don’t cancel or I’ll kill you!”

Steve’s left laughing into the dial tone. Honestly, he’d mostly called so Dustin couldn’t complain afterwards about not getting an advance warning. There’s just no way to hint at the whole Eddie thing without Eddie being present and accounted for; it would be the worst kind of cruel.

Steve can’t imagine what he’d have done to anyone who tried to tell him Eddie was alive without any kind of proof. It wouldn’t have been good.

“So we’re telling Henderson on Thursday?” Eddie jostles Steve’s shoulder. Steve thinks he’s been doing that a lot more lately.

“Seems like,” says Steve.

———

They take the train to Dustin’s place in Wilmette as soon as it gets dark out. Eddie’s bundled up in a nondescript hoodie and one of Steve’s denim jackets, looking like every other Chicagoan braced against the cool evening air.

They haven’t been going out all that much. Robin keeps asking if Eddie wants to do any tourist stuff, maybe the museums or something, but he always shrugs off the offers. Steve would’ve maybe expected him to want to get out and explore, now that he’s not cooped up anymore, but Eddie mostly seems to want to sleep, read, and watch TV.

Robin’s been on a campaign to educate Eddie about the ten years of pop culture he missed. “It’s essential for rehabilitation,” she says. Steve is pretty sure it’s just an excuse to make them rewatch all of Robin’s favorite movies, because some of the stuff she brings home was definitely already out in 1986.

Eddie draws the line at letting Robin show him music, though: “Nope, nuh-uh, no freaking way. I wouldn’t have listened to that shimmery synth shit if I’d been alive and free every single day of the last decade, and I’m not gonna listen to it now.”

Steve does have a few metal cassettes, but he feels weird about bringing them out. It feels like he’s crossing a line, somehow—admitting to something. So instead, they’d all traipsed over to the Tower Records a few blocks over, and let Eddie roam around sampling things.

To Steve’s surprise, Eddie hadn’t actually picked up that many metal albums. He'd grabbed the new Accept and some Alice in Chains, sure, but he also picked up Nirvana and Soundgarden. He had gotten into a conversation with a very helpful clerk that ended with the clerk scribbling a number on a business card and handing it over with a grin and a promise to make Eddie try some local act called Wilco next time.

Obviously Steve’s happy that Eddie’s making friends and charming people. He’s legitimately fucking thrilled that other people are finally seeing how great Eddie is, because Eddie deserves that. Eddie deserves the world, and if he wants to date some random clerk, he should get to.

It’s just that if Eddie Munson comes back from the dead to start dating some random clerk, Steve is going to have to go live at the bottom of Lake Michigan. That’s all.

[jacenbren]

Apologies for yet another nonsensical insomnia rant but the fact that Legato Bluesummers a) has never truly been a free man and b) cannot fathom ever living outside of servitude. really hurts man. Like ohhhhhh boy.

In the ‘98 anime (due to trimax being incomplete at the time), we never really got to see the real dark and nasty bits of Legato’s story, and trigun stampede hasn’t yet gotten a chance to really delve into his character. While Legato still served the same purpose as he did in the manga with similar events playing out, I think a lot of his character’s depth was missing in tri98—we never really learn why it is that Legato is so deeply devoted to Knives, and he’s portrayed as a lot more… theatrical?? than he is in the manga?? anyway. Tri98 Legato serves his narrative purpose and is a great villain, but he seems a bit shallow, for lack of a better word, mostly because we don’t actually get to learn a lot about him.

In comparison to his counterparts, trimax Legato is… kinda a loser. The second we meet Knives, Legato gets crumpled like a soda can and spends the majority of the series as a quadriplegic who sits menacingly in the shadows in his body brace/coffin thing (which I affectionately like to call his Bitch Cocoon). He spends his time being very weird and unlikeable and tormenting Vash in various ways, all while dramatically singing Knives’s praises, despite him being the guy who quite literally rearranged all of Legato’s limbs and permanently crippled him. All in all, despite being an absolute menace in combat and just a generally fucking unsettling guy, Legato’s kind of pathetic and really easy to dunk on at first. Just ask Elendira, who roasts the shit out of him on a daily basis because she’s bored and even “accidentally” chucks a glass of water at him! He’s an easy target!

However, I think this makes the absolute gut punch that is finding out why Legato is the way he is infinitely worse, which I absolutely adore from a narrative and storytelling standpoint.

Legato has been a slave since he was a child, in every way but name—well, he was literally a slave as a child, and more specifically, a sex slave. He grew up knowing nothing other than the absolute worst of humanity, instilling a hatred towards his own kind that would last his entire life. It’s made abundantly clear that Legato doesn’t value himself in the slightest, because he grew up as little more than a commodity, to use and dispose. When Knives razes the city Legato’s being held captive in, and goes to kill him, this is the first act of kindness he has ever received, and yet also the greatest unkindness—Knives has destroyed Legato’s life, no matter how abhorrently shitty it was. Legato has never lived a life outside slavery, so he has no idea what to do with himself.

So he turns to Knives. Millions Knives, whose goal is to eradicate the humans who have done nothing but make Legato suffer. Knives, who seems all too willing to put him out of his misery should he turn down Legato’s offer to serve him.

Legato cannot fathom a life without a master, without pain and suffering and servitude. He cannot comprehend the idea of freedom, and most of all, he can’t understand Vash. He can’t understand that someone whose kind has been used and abused by humans for centuries, who’s suffered for decades alone in the desert, could find it in himself to forgive and love the ones who hurt him so unconditionally. Vash’s very existence infuriates Legato, because Vash is a mirror image of him—a mirror image whose trauma didn’t swallow him whole and turn him into something despicable. Sure, Knives might’ve saved him, but he’s just another master to serve. Knives broke every bone in his body as punishment for disobedience, and yet somehow, Knives still favors his brother—who keeps running, who keeps refusing, who keeps avoiding his past—over Legato, who’s sworn to never disobey his orders again.

Vash is what Legato could’ve been. Vash is what Legato desperately wants to be. The problem is, Legato refuses to heal, and he doesn’t want to be fixed, either.