#not sure if this is before they met up with henry or he was simply wisely staying out of it

[wosoimagines]

Second Chance

part 2 of rivals

Jo's second camp with the team is nearly over and she gets news of her future.

2,367 words

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“Hi, kid.”

I grinned at the familiar voice as I closed the door behind me.

“Hey, Becky.”

The woman smiled at me as I threw my bag onto the open bed. I hadn’t exactly expected Jill to room me with Becky again, but it was nice. Becky had helped to make sure that I actually got to bed at a responsible time and that I wasn’t late to any meetings or practices. After all, it had been quite easy for me to get distracted by everything else.

“Did you get to go to the lake?”

“Yeah, we went for a couple of days,” I admitted.

Becky nodded at that before she turned back to the book that she was reading. I tilted my head as I read the title.

“ The Portrait of Dorian Gray ,” I read off the spin. Becky looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve never read it.”

“I could read it out loud, if you’d like.”

I smiled at Becky as I nodded. Becky looked back down at the book as I kicked my shoes off. 

“‘I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then--but I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid, and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.’”

I grinned as Becky read the words on the pages. I knew that we had at least an hour, if not two, until our meeting started since they were still waiting on quite a few players to get into the hotel. I didn’t give Becky time to start the next paragraph as I crawled into her bed before ducking my head under her left arm so I could look at the pages. Becky stayed silent for a moment as I got comfortable.

It wasn’t until I had settled down and stopped moving that Becky continued.

“‘Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade name of the firm. That is all.’

‘I don't believe that, Harry, and I don't believe you do either. However, whatever was my motive--and it may have been pride, for I used to be very proud--I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I stumbled against Lady Brandon. 'You are not going to run away so soon, Mr. Hallward?' she screamed out. You know her curiously shrill voice?’”

Becky’s voice was definitely one of the most soothing voices I had ever heard. Maybe she could become a professional audiobook reader or something like that once she retired from playing. Or even just take it up during the off-season. I wouldn’t mind listening to Becky read me more books if her voice was always this soothing.

“‘Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty,’ said Lord Henry, pulling the daisy to bits with his long, nervous fingers.

‘I could not get rid of her. She brought me up to Royalties, and people with Stars and Garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras and parrot noses. She spoke of me as her dearest friend. I had only met her once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I believe some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at least had been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the nineteenth-century standard of immortality. Suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching. Our eyes met again. It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. We would have spoken to each other without any introduction. I am sure of that. Dorian told me so afterwards. He, too, felt that we were destined to know each other.’”

I couldn’t find it in myself to fight off the sleep as Becky’s voice lulled me into darkness.

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

“Hey, pipsqueak.”

I looked at Hope who had sat down across from me. I titled my head at her sudden presence. I knew that she often sat at the table with Carli and Christie during our meals. But they were both seated at a table that was behind Hope.

“Hi, Hope.”

I looked over my shoulder where most of the team was still getting their food. Being small did come with advantages, such as being small enough to get around everyone so I could be one of the first to get my food. I spotted Becky and Alyssa who were just now grabbing their own plates to fill them up. I turned back to look at Hope.

“Look, I just came to say that maybe you aren’t that bad.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. Hope complimenting me had been the last thing I was expecting. After all, we still weren’t getting along that well. It seemed like we both tolerated each other just enough for a fight not to break out during practice, but that didn’t stop the two of us from exchanging words during practice.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Hope said as she kept her eyes trained on her plate as she stabbed some of the food with her fork. “You still aren’t better than I am. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t helping us out.”

I stayed silent, causing Hope to look up at me. She just stared back at me. I was trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke or something.

“Who are you and what have you done with Hope Solo?”

Hope chuckled at that as she nodded.

“That’s cute, pipsqueak.”

“No seriously. Hope Solo would never compliment me. We go at each other’s throats,” I said as I shook my head. I turned my attention back to my plate. Hope had to be seriously sick if she was being nice to me all of a sudden. “Mine and Hope’s relationship does not consist of us being nice to each other. We’re like sweet potatoes and mustard. They don’t go together. I don’t give a shit what Mick says either. He’s a weirdo for eating sweet potatoes and mustard.”

“No, I’m serious, Jo,” Hope said. I paused at that before I looked up at Hope. “Can you just take the compliment?”

I shook my head. I really couldn’t.

At least not from Hope.

This was too weird. Hope wasn’t supposed to be nice to me. She wasn’t supposed to compliment me.

“Is everything okay over here?”

Hope and I both looked at Becky who took a seat next to me. I sent Becky a small smile before I turned back to Hope. I slowly nodded my head as I realized just what this was about.

“You’re being nice 'cause I saved your ass in the goal.”

“Jo! Language!”

I rolled my eyes at that. I already had a mom at home, I didn’t need Becky deciding to mother me while I was at camp too.

“No.”

“You said that way too fast for it to be true! This is about me saving you in the goal.” I grinned as I glanced at Alyssa who sat next to Becky. So it wasn’t because Hope actually wanted to get to know me. “You just feel bad that you tried acting all tough and like you could stop me and then you couldn’t back it up and I had to save the game against France so we didn’t draw again.”

“I don’t need help in the goal, pipsqueak .”

“Sure you don’t.”

It felt good knowing that Hope had felt bad after I saved her skin.

“You could have just said thank you.”

“Jo,” Becky said. I looked over at her as I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t too sure why she really cared what happened between Hope and me. “Just take the compliment.”

“But she’s only saying it because I made the stop on the goal line.”

“Jo. Take the compliment.”

My jaw slacked a bit at that. I couldn’t believe that Becky was actually taking Hope’s side.

“Thank you for the compliment,” I said once I eventually turned back to Hope. The goalie smirked at me as she stood up. I rolled my eyes as I lowered my voice. “Good thing you’re good at soccer. Cause the porch light’s on, but there ain’t no one home.”

It wasn’t until Hope was well out of earshot that I felt the hand connect with the back of my head.

“Ow!”

“You’re lucky she didn’t hear that comment,” Becky hissed quietly. I slumped back against my chair at that. I really wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “I get it. You don’t get along with Hope and you might never get along with Hope, but she’s our goalie. You are going to have to stop trying to provoke her.”

“She doesn’t treat me fairly. Why should I be the one to have to extend the olive branch?” I asked as I leaned forward to get closer to Becky. “She’s the adult. I’m only fifteen.”

“Jo-”

“No, it’s bullshit.”

“Langauge.”

“And I don’t need another mom. I already have one.”

Becky sighed as she leaned back in her own chair. I looked away from her. 

“What if I talk to Hope?”

Becky and I both looked over at Alyssa. I had honestly forgotten that she was sitting at the table with us because of how quiet she had been. It was something that Becky told me I would have to get used to though. 

“As if that would make it any better.”

“That would be great. Thank you, Alyssa.”

I huffed as I pushed myself away from the table. I had already finished my plate and if it gave me an excuse to be away from Alyssa and Becky right now, I would take it. I didn’t need everyone else fighting my battles for me. It was part of the problem. If everyone else fought my battles for me then no one would ever take me seriously.

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

“So, I heard that you and Hope got into it,” Jill said as I was wrapping my hand. I sighed as I looked up at her. “Is there a problem that I, as the coach, need to address between you two?”

“No.”

Jill nodded her head slowly as she still looked down at me as I finished wrapping my hand. I rubbed the bridge of my nose before looking back up at her.

“Is there anything else?”

“I really hoped that you and Hope would have gotten over this by now,” Jill said. I softly groaned as my shoulders slumped forward. “I’ll be honest with you, kid. I want to call you up for the August game and September-”

“I get it,” I assured her. I glanced at where the rest of the team was getting ready. Even though I had been friendly enough with Alyssa and Becky, the rest still seemed hesitant to get close to me. “Who wants a kid on their team when they’re the best in the world?”

“Jolene, that isn’t it.”

“Isn’t it?”

I looked away from Jill and down at my shoes. I knew that it was. It wasn’t the first time I had been left behind because I was the youngest one, and I doubted that it would be the last.

“Jo, you’re gonna be called to the U-20 team in just days,” Jill said as she bent down so that we were equal in height. “I encouraged them to do so. I think it would be a great opportunity.”

I looked back over to the rest of the team. But my eyes zeroed in on Hope. I knew what she would say when she found out that I wouldn’t be called to the team in August or September.

“The U-20 World Cup will be over before August. So what’s the point in keeping me out of the September camp?”

Hope would only boost and brag if I was gone longer than I needed to be. Plus, I didn’t want to lose the pace of play that came with the national team if I was gone for too long.

“Because you’re only fifteen, Jo. You will have to go to school and finish your education,” Jill said. I looked back at her. I didn’t care about that, I just cared about my future in soccer. “If your grades suffer too much, then I can’t call you up. You will be gone until late August if you guys make it to the finals.”

“So why have me go to the U-20 team instead of getting more practice with the senior team?”

“Because the U-20 team is going to a World Cup. It might not be the World Cup you were hoping for, but it will give you a taste of what it will be like next year,” Jill said as she sighed. I wondered if she would ever get tired of me and all my questions. “You’ll be expected to be a leader on the U-20 team as you’ve already been called up to the senior team. That will also be a good experience for you. I don’t expect that you’ll be seen as a leader on this team for years, maybe not until I’m gone even, but it will happen eventually, and leading a team at a World Cup, even a youth one, will be good for you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Jill sighed as she patted my leg before standing up. If I had to prove myself to Jill at the youth level again, I was going to do it. Nothing would stop me from winning gold in August. Maybe then, the rest of the team would also start to see me as more than just some kid.

#uswnt imagine #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #leah williamson imagines #uswnt #woso #leah williamson

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs - Part Two

I'm such a fan of an AU, and I love how many there are in FirstPrince. Any situation you can put Alex and Henry in, I'm here for it.

Here are many of my favorites so far, 10k+ words. Give the authors some love and let me know if you find something you adore!

And they call it— by @clottedcreamfudge. T, 10k. "You're late, but at least you're wearing a more interesting tie this time," The Dog Sitter says as he opens the door, leaning against the doorframe like he's a GQ model and not a law student slash dog whisperer. Henry's mouth feels incredibly dry.

"Mishap with my socks," he says, then immediately wants to throw himself into oncoming traffic. "I mean, I didn't have any trouble getting them on or anything — I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself."

"Good to know," The Dog Sitter says, looking amused and devastatingly attractive, as always. "David get ahold of them again? He looks at mine like I look at freshly-brewed coffee."

"Yes," Henry says, relieved. "Yes, exactly that."

Creative Differences by @sparklepocalypse. E, 10k. Zahra tilts her head at him, a contemplative expression on her face. “How attached are you to the notion of being a solo artist?”

(AU; Alex is a failed solo musician and Henry's band needs a lead singer.)

Dick, Dick, Dick (You Down) by @everwitch-magiks. E, 10k. It is a truth universally acknowledged that Henry Fox is an absolute dick.

Henry Fox is an A-list movie star, Alex is in charge of the craft services trailer on Henry’s new romcom, and Alex just might be the only person on the crew who has his doubts about the world’s unfavorable assumptions about Henry. Why would Henry be a dick just because he doesn’t stop to talk to his fans every time they crowd him? Henry Fox is probably like most people: not his best self every second of his goddamn life, but decent on the whole.

As filming gets underway, Alex learns both how right and how wrong he is. Henry Fox, much like Alex’s well-stocked buffet at crafty, is a goddamn snack — but he’s definitely not like most people.

(Alex doesn’t feel this specific way about most people.)

You Came Out of Nowhere (And You Cut through All the Noise) by @affectionatelyrs. E, 10k. Alex starts to feel worse about how he reacted to the man earlier — he’s usually all bark and no bite, but how is the bartender supposed to know that? Alex can be snarky, but he’s never cruel.

Allowing his lips to quirk up into a small smile, he replies “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you, really.”

“Well,” he says with a smirk, “in the event that you are lying to me simply to placate our earlier interaction, my shift ends in 15 minutes. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stick around to chat with a perfect stranger?”

Alex’s brain stutters for a moment at his facade being so transparent that it's all he can do to stutter out a “Yeah—um, yeah. Okay, sure.” Maybe he also gets stuck on the words perfect stranger, and the immediate thought of mmmm, perfect indeed that pops up in his brain as a result. He chooses to ignore that as well.

Or, Alex is feeling insecure after a bad date - Henry shows him that he doesn't have to be

Controlled Experiment by clottedcreamfudge. E, 10k. Basically, what it boils down to is this; Alex is mostly sober when he says - to a group of people he barely knows - "Yeah, I might be a little queer, but who knows? I'd kinda like to experiment though, y'know?"

This statement, which is actually something he's thought about a lot, is met by general bobbing of heads, in the kind of bros-trying-to-be-chill way that usually happens when a bunch of straight guys are trying very hard to be non-toxic. That is to say, it's kind of awkward, but they get mad props for trying.

The only person who isn't nodding is Henry, Pez's best friend and the only known gay man in this circle of people. Alex has no clue about the others, but he knows Henry's gay because Pez once introduced him as, "the most handsome man in all of Christendom — and before you ask, no we've never shagged, which is a damn shame. Not for lack of trying on my part, of course, but Henry's one of those gays who thinks it's bad manners to get drunk and have an inadvisable fumble with your best friend for larks."

kiss my collarbone, found my archetype by uptownwarblerr5. E, 10k. English literature teacher Henry starts a new job, and immediately meets law teacher Alex (and in the process, becomes a little bit obsessed). Alex is a clueless bisexual disaster as per usual. Nora and Pez love their stupid friends. Zahra wants to go home.

Arts and Minds by @orchidscript. T, 11k. Henry felt like he was holding the shreds of his career and dignity all in one. The most profound interaction between Henry and the colleague he respected the most – had respected and looked up to since beginning his master’s degree – was now posted online, trending across Twitter, and was now up to 23 million views. Alex showing off and Henry standing there, mouth open like a fish. He wanted to throw up. He wished he had argued back, had said anything. Instead, he had all but swallowed his tongue and sunk back to his laptop, floundering for how to push forward.

23 million views.

Henry should be angry. He wasn’t.

He was going to die of embarrassment. Zahra would make sure of it.

Art history professors go viral, then go to a conference... and there was only one bed ;) 

Fox Repairs (and Basic Construction) by floatingaway4. T, 11k. “Yes, so let me get your details and I’ll come over whenever it’s convenient for you,” says the voice. It’s dark and soft at the same time, kind of...velvety...and Alex curses his brain that can’t ask a simple question but can come up with a thousand adjectives for this guy’s voice.

“My details,” Alex repeats, while his brain is busy flipping through a list of similes that would get him fired if he ever put them into anything official. ‘Like honey...like molasses….like sunshine on a cloudy day…’ Nope, that’s a song lyric. He’d get charged with plagiarism for that one.

All Booked Up by @three-drink-amy. E, 11k. A book tearing up the Bestseller’s List is quickly shoved into Alex’s hands via June and Nora. Despite his resistance, he’s taken in by the book and its whirlwind romance. When Nora insists they all go to a reading with the mysterious author, Alex is drawn in by H. G. Fox, hanging on his every word. When they meet after the signing, it sets him on a path he’d thought was impossible.

Try Me On For Size by everwitch. E, 11k. "Yeah, I might be a little queer, but who knows? I'd kinda like to experiment though, y'know?"

Henry’s carefully orchestrated nonchalance melts away in an instant.

He’d been about to do what he always does at these shindigs when the topic of hypothetical queerness is brought up; come out. In this strange little pocket of humanity — this full-volume version of reality filled with red solo cups and many a youth exploring their sexuality — making his preferences known has always been Henry’s most successful first step on his path towards getting laid. And Henry does, truly, want to get laid tonight; he didn’t spend well over fifteen minutes on his hair for bloody Instagram clout. His discreet but unmistakable rainbow wristband isn’t meant to signify allyship.

The thing is, though, that Henry’s personal gay agenda for the night may just have taken an interesting turn; Alex wants to experiment.

In which Alex does experiment, and Henry is a most willing participant.

we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) by @onward--upward. T, 12k. Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep.

Warmest regards,

ACD

It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.

Kinda think that I might be his type by @kiwiana-writes. E, 12k. “Bea.” He clambers onto his knees, grabbing her hands in his own. “Bea, take me to Thanksgiving with you.”

Bea blinks. Blinks again. “What?”

“Bea, I could terrorise your gran until she’s begging you to stay single forever.”

Or, Alex agrees to be his friend's fake boyfriend for a weekend. He is not prepared for his friend's brother.

Countermelody by @omgcmere. E, 12k. On an old tour bus, tucked into the corner of a bunk bed, there's a bit of wood that gets covered up when the particleboard shifts back and forth on the road. If you catch it just after the bus has gone over the right kind of bump, you can shine a light up and find a message etched there, with the tip of a key or maybe a Swiss Army knife.

Alex discovered it within his first week of the tour. He's never told anyone about it. It says:

RULE #1: DON'T FUCK YOUR BANDMATE

Luckily for him, as a solo artist, he doesn't really have to worry about it.

Alex is opening for Henry on tour and, uh, hates him. A lot.

Elevator buttons and morning air by dollarstoreannabethchase. E, 12k. Last night, Alex hooked up with the most attractive man to ever exist after getting stuck together in the elevator of his apartment complex. He's incredible, but the second day of the job that will make or break his career is not the time to be starting a relationship; even if he kind of wants to scream every time he thinks about Henry. So you can imagine his fucking surprise when he walks into the office the next day and sees none other than his Henry—elevator Henry, blue-eyed, British, dreamy, with thighs for days Henry—standing and talking to Pez. It’s in that moment that it all clicks, and Alex realizes. He’s Henry, as in, Henry, his other boss. Henry, his boss, a.k.a. the man who was on his knees in Alex’s bedroom last night. He is so fucked.

Or: Alex and Henry get stuck in an elevator together; Chaos ensues.

coyote ugly series by @smc-27. E, 12k. The bartender, in his mesh tank top, towel tucked into the back pocket of a pair of jeans, leans on the bar, eyes twinkling, and asks, “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

You Are the Wave I Could Never Tame by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 12k. That should be it. Henry is doing his job; the pool is getting cleaned, and Alex shouldn’t think anything more of it. Then why does he feel the slightest bit of disappointment when he walks back to the pool house and Henry isn’t there?

Or, the pool boy Henry AU that I couldn't stop thinking about until I wrote it.

Count The Stars And Constellations by everwitch. E, 14k. Alex and Henry meet at their first Partner Summit. After a single night of warm smiles and intriguing conversation, Henry is more than ready to follow his heart and enter a Match with Alex. But Alex is not. 

Meet Your Match by allmylovesatonce. E, 14k. Alex had first learned about soulmarks when he was 10. June had just turned 13 and had woken up that morning with her soulmark. The two of them sat at the dinner table, in awe of the mark on her wrist. It was delicate and pretty. Three hearts intertwined like a triple infinity sign. Alex was almost envious. He wanted to know who his soulmate was so badly and he wouldn't get his mark for another 3 years.

Everybody needs good neighbours by @rmd-writes. E, 14k. To nora(9.37pm):

So a funny thing happened

My hot neighbour brought me the mcflurry i ordered and we fucked

From nora (9.38pm):

WHAT

DETAILS NOW

Which neighbour?

Wait, you only have one hot neighbour. Alex, did you fuck a guy?!?!?!

ALEX 

Alex meets a hot new neighbour. Shenanigans ensue.

Captious (calculated to confuse, entrap or entangle in argument) by lucky (revolutionbarbie). M, 14k. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Alex hadn't intended to be 45-minutes late to his blind date, he really hadn't.

Thankfully Henry - broad-shouldered, blond, British and downright beautiful - didn't seem to mind.

written in the stars by @indomitable-love. G, 15k. Henry has always been entranced by the transformative power of stories; the way a happy ending can heal an ache better than any medicine.

He never set out to run a bookshop, but when he’d ended up with an obscenely large inheritance and an expanding cavity in his chest before he was even old enough to drink, there was only one thing that he wanted to do, only one way he wanted to fill the void: he wanted to be surrounded by the one place that had always felt like home – between the covers of a book. No matter the time period or genre, Henry has always found a home in books.

falling in love (in the cruelest way) by @coffeecatsme. M, 15k. “Alex?”

The name makes Alex stop halfway to the register and look back. Henry is standing in the same spot, shifting from foot to foot, before he juts his chin out. He meets Alex’s eyes.

“Where are you traveling to?”

Or, Alex picks up a stranger on a road trip, only to realize too late he's the missing Prince of Wales.

Financial and Other Instruments by clottedcreamfudge. E, 15k. “I’m Alex,” Alex says quietly, and something in Henry’s stomach jolts. “I’m a trainee financial adviser — I think you know my mom?”

***

Financial instruments are assets that can be traded, or they can also be seen as packages of capital that may be traded... These assets can be cash, a contractual right to deliver or receive cash or another type of financial instrument, or evidence of one's ownership of an entity.

Alex has owned Henry since the second he laid eyes on him, whether Alex knows it or not.

maybe take me into your room by smc_27. T, 15k. “This is kinda boring, ma.”

She pats him on the cheek, leans in a little closer, and says, “Find something to do, darlin’. You live here. You can’t leave.”

She’s not exactly right, but he isn’t going to argue. Plus, her main advisor, Zahra, comes over. Alex is already a little afraid of her, so he doesn’t feel the need to draw attention to himself by smarting off at the mouth.

She’s still talking to him when he spots this really beautiful guy about his age, and fuck, wow. Okay.

“Not him,” his mom says into his ear, and he doesn’t even… Look, if she knows about the few guys he made out with at parties in Madrid last year when the opportunity arose, this is the first he’s hearing of it. “His dad is the British ambassador. I can’t have you breaking hearts and causing an international incident.”

OR: Ellen Claremont is the US ambassador to Canada. Arthur Fox is the British Ambassador to Canada.  

When The Time Is Right by everwitch. E, 16k. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.”

“Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.”

It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.”

Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

you'll be right where i left you by smc_27. M, 17k. He wakes up to a weird noise and - once he realizes he’s not dreaming it - starts trying to figure out where it’s coming from.

He takes a steadying breath and opens the closet door, and the scream he lets out is like, practically not human at all.

He did not fucking expect there to be a man in his closet. A man who is also yelling. Who’s tall, and hot, and wearing what seems like a wool suit, some kind of medal around his neck, and a sash.

OR, a time traveling Henry AU

Tell Me All Your Secrets by everwitch. E, 17k. When Henry dates Liam, he inadvertently learns about June’s brother Alex’s not-so-heterosexual tendencies of the past. But Alex has explicitly told Henry he’s straight. If Alex had the slightest interest in being with Henry, he'd definitely have set the record straight (ha) in regards to his sexuality. Except with pride month just around the corner and Alex making another trip to New York, Henry finds himself reexamining parts of their friendship. Perhaps there is more to their connection than he's ever dared hope for?

Or: the one where Alex and Henry go to New York Pride.

Fate Marks the Spot by @preppymayhem. T, 17k. Alex Claremont-Diaz wants absolutely nothing to do with Prince Henry of Wales and would be completely happy to never speak or be in the same room with him again.

Except for the tiny fact that Henry bears his mark.

A/K/A: What if Alex and Henry were soulmates, literally.

The Art of Falling in Love by floatingaway4. M, 17k. Alex Claremont-Diaz is a struggling actor, but his next role might be his big break. To research the role, his agent connects him with her friend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The employee assigned to show him around annoys Alex before they even meet.

Will they ever learn to get along?

(Spoiler alert: Yes. Yes they will.)

Cursed is a State of Mind by @dustratcentral and @welcometololaland. E, 17k. Alex Claremont-Diaz is well aware that he’s an absolute catch. He’s intelligent and quick witted, has an ass that absolutely refuses to quit and was once voted ‘most attractive law student’ in a slightly irresponsible and probably unethical NYU student magazine poll.

Which is why he finds it super fucking weird that his new roommate, Henry, thinks his caffeine consumption habits are a bit off-putting. So what if he has some unconventional drink choices? It’s not like Alex can’t vehemently defend all of them.

5 times Henry has something to say about Alex’s coffee choices and 1 time he says nothing at all.

team henesmee series by @coffeecatsme. E, 18k. Henry isn’t home when Alex returns from his weeklong trip to his father’s lakehouse in Texas.

There is, however, a bat hanging from their fan, wings curled around its little body, a drop of drool clinging to his lips. Sleeping.

“Huh,” Alex says, tilting his head. “I didn’t know vampires could actually turn into bats.”

Or, 5 times Alex learns something new about Henry and 1 time Henry learns something new about Alex.

Luck of the Draw by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates). T, 19k. Henry isn’t an artist, but he runs an art studio. Alex isn’t in a bridal party, but he’s arranging a bachelorette.

Neither of them are looking for love, but when life gives you lemons, you throw them in the fruit bowl and find yourself the man of your dreams.

The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge. E, 19k. As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great.

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

Route 11 by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates). E, 19k. Alex thought the New York City subway was a cursed public transport system. That was before he moved across the Atlantic and took the route 11 bus every day.

A public transport love story told in 11 parts.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper. T, 19k. "How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way."

OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

A Practical Arrangement by @kiwiana-writes. E, 19k. “I know.” In fairness, he didn’t ask his mom to delay the wedding after the betrothal was made official when he turned eighteen. It wasn’t that she expected another option to materialise—he’s pretty sure she was trying to give him and Henry more time to get to know each other, maybe move past their open animosity a little. They’ve been pushed together every few months for the last three years, their marriage an inevitability. “I just… I still can’t quite get my head around it, you know? Married. To Henry.”

All the Old Showstoppers by @cha-melodius. E, 20k. “Dunno, kinda looks like you know what you’re doing. Are those macarons?” Alex asks incredulously after a little while, and a moment later Henry sees him start slowly approaching out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t know princes could bake.”

“I’d wager not many of them can,” Henry replies as he works, letting one corner of his mouth tug upward.

(In a universe where Alex didn’t go to the royal wedding, three years later Alex and Henry find themselves both competing on an episode of The Great Celebrity Bake Off. Will old hostilities lead to disaster, or is there something else causing all that tension in the tent?)

i told myself don't get attached (but in my mind i play it back) by coffeecatsme. E, 20k. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” the woman behind the counter says, eyes wide and apologetic. Alex grits his teeth so he doesn’t say something inappropriate in a lobby full of scared families, crying kids, and the obscenely tall British guy that’s currently giving him a fucking migraine. “Due to the snowstorm warning, all the flights are cancelled, and unfortunately the room you’ve booked is currently occupied.”

“Occupied,” Alex repeats dumbly, nails digging into his palm. “I booked this room three months ago.”

“Yes, well, the previous occupant—”

“Should’ve been out of here by now.” Alex knows he sounds harsh, he knows the stupid blond is hovering somewhere behind him listening to the whole conversation, but he can’t help it. He’s not spending what’s supposed to be his vacation alone with another guy in his room.

Or, Alex and Henry are stuck in the same room in a hotel during a sudden blizzard

For all the world to see by everwitch. E, 20k. Henry Fox — bestselling author, mystery millionaire and infamous recluse — never gives interviews. So when June is tasked with writing a profile on Henry, Alex agrees to help her. How? By posing as Henry’s next-door neighbor, charming his way into Henry’s life for the purpose of obtaining some real substance for June’s article. Eat the rich, right? What could possibly go wrong?

i wake with your memory over me (that's a real fucking legacy) by coffeecatsme. E, 21k. The ski instructor stops in front of him, takes off his goggles, and Henry about stops breathing for another reason. “Hey,” Alexander says with a grin, his face distinctly lacking in wrinkles Henry was expecting from a renowned instructor. There’s a bright grin on his face that rivals the sun, rich brown curls spilling out of a red beanie, and Henry realizes he’s absolutely fucked for a whole other reason than his inability to figure out how to stay upright in skis. 

Or, the one in which Henry is hopeless at skiing despite his family's aspirations, and Mary hires Alex as an instructor to amend that.

we might just get away with it by smc_27. E, 21k. Henry is the most gorgeous man Alex has ever seen. And Alex has seen a lot of gorgeous men. He’s a fucking model.

“This is Henry Fox-Mountchristen,” Prada’s current PR lead says, and Alex smiles and pushes his hand out. “He’s a journalist covering the merger.”

Alex doesn’t know what merger or what it would have to do with Paris Fashion Week. But he does know that Henry holding a glass of champagne as he shakes Alex’s hand is maybe the sexiest thing ever, and there is just no explanation for that.

“Hi. I’m Alex.”

Henry says, “I know,” and then does this weird, forced smile at Bianca and walks away.

Alex doesn’t know how to like, not be completely obsessed with things he wants.

OR, Alex is a model. Henry is a journalist, and a bit of an asshole. Alex wants him anyway, even when it doesn’t feel good.

Fractured by clottedcreamfudge. E, 23k. Alex has been in the New York PPC for seven years, and it's seven years too long. He's not looking for his Half, because he isn't half a person. The Algorithm can kiss his sweet, Texan ass.

He doesn't need anyone - leggy, blond, or otherwise - trying to change that.

The Snow Prince by @orchidscript. M, 24k. Two little boys meet in a dream that isn't quite a dream.

Years later, two young men dance at a ball without touching.

A governor's son falls in love with an isolated prince who cannot be held.

A winter fairytale inspired by folktales, fairytales, and other stories. Alex and Henry meet twice, then fall in love a decades-old curse. When the threatened effects begin to come true, Alex endeavors to break it.

in summer air series by Standinginmoonlight. M, 25k. There’s something magnetic about Henry, though, and his feet feel like they’re rooted to the spot. He opens his mouth again and decides to just go with it. He’s on vacation, after all. Whatever fucking goes.

Or: the one Alex Claremont-Diaz flies halfway around the world to find himself and ends up finding Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor instead.

One Wild and Precious Life by @sprigsofviolets. T, 26k. In 2015, Arthur Fox was diagnosed with cancer. He went into surgery to have a tumor removed from his brain, and fell into a coma.

Nine years later, he wakes up.

Clue Me In by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 27k. Henry and Pez’s new shelter is opening in Brooklyn, and Henry is determined to spend the entire night avoiding Alex, while Alex is determined to do the exact opposite of that.

Cracked Heart by @absoluteaudacitywrites. E, 28k. Liam takes a deep breath in and out. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I’ve thought a lot about this and I don’t want to hurt you but it’s the right thing to do.” He pauses, taking another deep breath. “We need to break up.”

after hours by @dumbpeachjuice. M, 28k. “Spend the night with me. I’ll show you around the city, take you to all my favourite haunts. Give you a sample of what the real New York is like,” Alex explains, altogether far too casually to excuse the speed with which Henry’s heart has set off galloping. “Maybe you’ll even change your opinion that we Americans have no taste.”

Henry’s mouth feels sort of dry, so he swallows a large gulp of his new martini down and immediately chews through both olives to stall for time. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Alex shrugs. “It’ll be fun. I’m an excellent tour guide. I have references.”

The Byline by @rosetintednerdglasses. M, 28k. Press Secretary Alex Claremont-Diaz serves at the pleasure of the President, and he does it excellently until a new White House correspondent darkens his press room: Henry Fox, The Guardian.

Every Star That's Ever Fallen Knows the Way to Where We're Going by @dracowillhearaboutthis. G, 29k. When Henry’s family moved in next door when Alex was four years old, Alex was not a fan. 

In Your Orbit by everwitch. E, 30k. Alex, a third year student at the pilot academy — and more importantly the son of the First Commander of the Unified Systems — finds himself kidnapped by a duo of interstellar smugglers, Henry and Pez. The two space fugitives soon turn out to have a plethora of problems; between a severe illness, a freighter that keeps falling apart, and a meteoroid storm raging outside, they're in quite a pinch. Alex reluctantly comes to their aid, if only to make sure they all get out of this alive.

The thing about Henry, though, is that despite everything, he doesn’t actually seem cruel. He seems the exact opposite of cruel.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach. E, 30k. It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen.

But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

Double, Double, Acting Trouble by @welcometololaland. E, 30k. Due to no fault of his own, Alex Claremont-Diaz winds up in a theatre class.

Due to every fault of Percy Okonjo, Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor finds himself roped into the very last thing he ever wanted to do - following in his father’s footsteps by being thrust onto the stage. OR

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece as Alex and Henry fall in love while performing the Tragedy of Macfish.

Be Worthy Love, and Love Will Come by @sparklepocalypse. E, 30k. "For Christmas this year, all I would like is a best friend who doesn’t mind too much that I’m a prince. Most of my classmates poke fun because of who I am, or treat me like I’m too special to be their friend. I want a best friend who knows me as much as my family does and still likes me. I know that you can’t wrap a best friend up in a box and put it under the tree, but you’re magic so you know the best way to bring one."

(Movieverse canon divergence; Prince Henry, age 8, writes to Father Christmas wishing for a best friend. A few weeks later, he finds one.)

it's you and me by smc_27. M, 31k. He can’t fucking wait to see everyone. To hug Bea. To have Catherine tell him he’s handsome and tap his nose with her index finger like she’s always done. For Arthur to make some inevitably fucking terrible joke about Alex bringing two duffels and a carryon. He also honestly can’t wait to see his mom and Arthur together.

Alex just really needs this summer. He needs time away, outside of Texas, with his family and the people outside his family who know him best.

or, an indulgent summer fic in which Arthur and Ellen are best friends and their families summer together in California

Nebuchad-never had a friend like me by clottedcreamfudge. E, 32k. When the dragons came, it was like nothing the world had ever seen before – and it hadn’t been anything like the movies either. There weren’t great, leathery wings beating up hurricanes and pinpricks growing larger on the horizon until sharp, white teeth became visible; there were no screaming citizens or calls to arms; nobody saw them coming, because they didn’t come the way Hollywood had expected them to.

The dragons had, instead, crawled out of the earth, just hatched and hiccupping smoke, barely old enough to support their own heads.

The world had fallen in love in an instant.

Waiting in the Wings by DracoWillHearAboutThis. M, 33k. Henry had always known he would end up in an arranged marriage.

He had not expected, though, to end up in an arranged marriage with Prince Alex Claremont-Diaz, who he'd secretly been in love with for the past fifteen years.

when i need to get home by smc_27. E, 35k. He drives the car he’s rented up the lane and half wonders if he’s just exhausted or if the place actually looks as bad as it does.

Oh. Oh god. Christ. What’s he gotten himself into?

He can’t help thinking if Jean knew her home had fallen this far, she would’ve been heartbroken. He’s not going to let her home sit like this. He’s going to fix it. For her, yeah, but for him, too.

or: Alex inherits an English country home, and Henry lives in the cottage next door.

Seven Years by @welcometololaland. E, 35k. Seven different places, seven different timelines, seven different meetings, seven different Decembers.

And still, Alex and Henry find each other in every universe.

Take me where I cannot stand by clottedcreamfudge. E, 36k. Henry blinks at him. “Galactapol?”

“Yeah, you know – the Intergalactic Peace Force?”

“Yes, I know them,” Henry says drily, “but you said—”

“We don't have a lot of respect for them around here,” Alex informs him succinctly. “If that's the kind of line you wanna take, then maybe—”

“No, no,” Henry says hurriedly, straightening up. “Galactapol. I like it. Catchy, even.”

“Read the contract or don't, Fox,” Alex says firmly, pressing his own hand to the line of studs between the engine room and the lower corridor. “I can find another engineer if I need to, but you'll never – and I mean never – find a ship like this again in your life. Jackie's one of a kind.”

Space, smuggling, and a ship called Applejack. Everything's shiny.

Before This, After That by @orchidscript. M, 37k. Henry Fox is lost. After suffering a serious injury from horseback, he struggles through the pain, depression, and frustration inherent with long term healing. Giving up is easier.

Discontent to leave him so unmotivated, the Fox siblings go in on a new solution: a private, personal physical therapist. Enter Alex Claremont-Diaz. He comes with glowing referrals, top of his class in all his degree programs, a sparkling personality and dug-in stubbornness to match. If anyone could light a fire in Henry again, it would be him. Right?

Most People Exist by SprigsofViolets. T, 40k. Henry Fox is a nurse at the New York Cancer Center. He’s happy with his job, content enough with his life, but it all gets turned on its head when he connects with a patient with a brain tumor—Alex Claremont-Diaz.

into the spotlight by indomitablelove. E, 40k. Alex Claremont-Diaz is a star on the rise.

A wildcard up-and-coming new actor who finds himself thrust into the Hollywood limelight when he’s nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Actor for his small-budget indie movie. It’s his more than he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. That is, until he discovers that also in his category is his mortal enemy: Henry Fox – generically attractive, completely boring and part of an acting dynasty that stretches back generations. In short, everything Alex hates about Hollywood.

So when a comment Alex makes about Henry in an interview goes viral, and the two find themselves thrust together through awards season, Alex can’t help but think his dream has become his worst nightmare.

Except, maybe – just maybe – Henry isn’t quite what he seems.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates). E, 40k. Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all.

Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems?

Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

What's Up, Danger? series by @cultofsappho. E, 41k. “How thick do you think I am, exactly?”

Alex mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, “Got away with it this long, didn’t I?”

Henry’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “I’m sorry, are you bragging about lying to me?”

After a long pause, Alex says, “...No.” slowly.

“Hm. Thought not.”

In which Henry can’t recognise the sound of his own boyfriend’s voice, Alex isn’t as good of a liar as he thinks he is, and living with a superhero is both exactly, and not at all, what Henry thought it would be.

In Any Universe by SprigsofViolets. T, 54k. Boy Meets Boy.

Boys Become Friends.

Boys Fall in Love.

The Red White and Royal Blue Heartstopper AU that no one asked for.

Camp Llwynywermod by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 56k. The first night of camp with Henry is always weird. Weird in the sense that they haven’t seen each other in nearly eleven months, but Alex knows that Henry has been thinking about him in the months leading up to camp. Alex is guilty of it too; often the first thing he thinks of after applying to be a counselor is seeing Henry, Henry and his stupid blond hair and stupid English accent and stupidly gorgeous face, and thinking about just how he could outdo him in pranks this year.

Alternatively, the camp counselor AU that nobody asked for.

Fall Into You by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 56k. Alex is smart and witty and kind and clever and driven…but graceful, he is not. Several stints in the ER within one semester can confirm this unfortunate fact. The only good thing to come out of wracking up his out of pocket co-pay is the gorgeous nurse with beautiful eyes and a killer smile. Maybe breaking several bones is kinda worth it.

Basically: several times Alex was a clumsy wreck and Henry had to patch him up.

The Arrangement by cmere. E, 58k. “Gran sat me down the day I finished my A levels and made it abundantly clear I was not to let anyone know about any deviant desires I might be beginning to harbor that might reflect poorly upon the crown, and there were appropriate channels to maintain appearances if necessary.”

Shaan approaches Henry with a deal from the Queen: agree to an arranged marriage with a woman to flaunt in public, and he can enjoy the services of a male escort in private. Alex comes storming into Henry’s life with sparkling brown eyes, a mischievous smirk, and a challenge, and Henry struggles to maintain control of his emotions as boundaries begin to blur.

Alex doesn’t actually care about him; it’s just a job. Right?

Down By The Water, I Saw You by @myheartalivewrites. E, 63k. “Henry straightens up, head snapping over to look at the new arrivals. Then there’s the sound of a voice he’s not heard in ten years, a voice he never thought he’d hear again.

“Fuck, I can’t cook tonight. I think I’d rather starve.”

Henry stares, mouth dropped open. A head of curly brown hair turns slowly his way and his heart explodes.

“Henry?” Alex says, and Henry can’t bring himself to reply, so he just keeps staring. Alex looks at him for a few more seconds, eyes wide, blinking furiously, before swiftly turning on the spot and walking away from him and into the woods, but not before Henry can see the distraught look on his face.”

Henry and Alex first met and fell in love as teenagers, while on holiday in Jamaica. Ten years later, they run into each other again, and have to deal with the emotional fallout of how things ended last time. And fall in love again along the way, of course.

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes. E, 65k. Alex is a former child star struggling to make the transition into being seen as a serious actor. He jumps at an opportunity to perform on stage in the UK, seeing it as a way to break free from the typecasting and show what he can really do. But he wasn’t prepared to star alongside someone he hates.

Henry is a recent theatre graduate who accepts an amazing role in a queer reimagining of Much Ado About Nothing. And then it turns out his co-star is none other than the man he’s been hopelessly pining after for years—even though Henry made a terrible first impression when they met.

It’s… well, it’s practically Shakespearean.

You Know I Love a London Boy series by @three-drink-amy. E, 66k. When Alex has a break off of work, he decides to get away and spend that time in London. On his first day there, he meets Henry and sparks immediately fly between them. As they spend the summer together, touring the city and enjoying each other, Alex continues to keep a very big secret about himself: who he really is.

Nova, Baby by chamel. E, 66k. Agent Henry Fox-Mountchristen is an asshole.

Alex is 90% sure those exact words are going in this mission report. Yeah, they’re supposed to be objective when writing this shit up, but that isn’t his opinion. It’s a fact.

(CIA agent Alex Claremont-Diaz and MI6 agent Henry Fox-Mountchristen don’t exactly get along, but that doesn’t keep their respective agencies from insisting they work together as partners. Then a mission in Colombia changes everything, and their relationship begins to shift and grow into something that neither of them ever expected… and something that could have deadly consequences.)

Shatter Me by @historicallysam. M, 67k. Henry is resigned to the life he's meant to lead until he meets a man so full of happiness and life that he's got no choice but to confront the secret he's been keeping for years.

Deep Blue by myheartalive. E, 76k. “I picture myself in a small house by the sea, overlooking the water. Writing and reading all day and taking David on long walks and swimming everyday. Somewhere really quiet, where there’s not a lot of people. And where nobody thinks of me as Henry Mountchristen.”

Fed up of working under his grandmother, Henry quits his job in London, dropping everything for a writer’s life by the sea. He’s desperate to focus on his work and produce something worthy, but a mouthy American with a beautiful smile and a chin dimple has other plans.

But I love him, whether or no. by @leaves-of-laurelin. E, 77k. Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

I'm Taking A Ride With My Best Friend by @cultofsappho. M, 79k. When Zahra, the leader of the Fireflies, makes a deal with Alex to smuggle some guy outside of the D.C. Quarantine Zone’s walls, Alex immediately says no. He doesn’t move people, not anymore. Not since his ridiculous, and definitely past-tense, savior complex got him into hot water with June.

What could possibly be so special about some scrawny refugee? When he had his gun pointed at Henry, the expression on Zahra’s face was not one he’d ever seen on her before. She desperately needs him alive. For once, just this once, Zahra isn’t the savior today. It’s Henry.

“What’s so important about him?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. He’s just cargo, Alex.”

Alternate Universe - The Last of Us

Never a Guarantee by clottedcreamfudge. E, 87k. Henry – Prince Henry, third in line for the throne of Windsor and Alex's goddamn betrothed – has very soft hands. Alex knows this because he is literally holding them in his, both of them standing in front of just about everyone with a title in either of their two kingdoms, while a man in an extremely large hat has them repeat oaths and other things Alex has been learning by heart since he got engaged.

Looking back on their time at the altar, Alex should maybe have read a little more into the way Henry kissed him like it was the last time.

the poem you make of me by cmere. E, 91k. "Just, you know," Henry says. "If your mum weren't the president and you were just a normal bloke living a normal life, what things might be like? What you'd be doing instead?"

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

(our last summer) memories that remain by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 91k. Fresh out of law school and fresh out of a relationship, what Alex Claremont-Diaz needs most is a goddamn vacation. He plans to spend his summer on a small island off the coast of Wales, three months of peace and relaxation and figuring out what the hell he actually wants to do with his life. But all that is thrown out the window when he runs into his ex-fling, Henry Fox, who just so happens to be running the hotel he's staying in for the next three months.

Four years prior, Henry Fox meets the most beautiful boy he's ever seen at an NYU party: Alex Claremont-Diaz. Henry soon finds himself whisked away to Texas with Alex, a summer full of poetry and skinny dipping and stolen kisses, and everything is perfect. Almost too perfect for a summer fling. Yet Henry can't stop himself from falling in love with Alex, falling for the lake house and everything Alex loves, even when he knows it's too good to last.

Two summers, two places of falling in love, one filled with memories of the last. It leaves Alex and Henry wondering: is this summer truly going to be their last one together?

A Long Way From the Playground by allmylovesatonce. E, 96k. Henry and Alex were best friends growing up until they went to separate colleges and they grew apart. When they see each other again as adults, against the odds, both living in the same city again, will it be a joyful reunion or will the pain of the years apart get in the way? How do you become friends again when there is so much of the past in the way?

Peaches and Cream do Sexy Murder series by @dumbpeachjuice and @clottedcreamfudge. E, 103k. There are precisely three things Henry knows for absolute certain:

1. There is nothing that can’t be solved by a good cup of tea.

2. His dog, David, is probably the person who loves him most in the world, and that is because Henry is the provider of sausages.

3. His sister would do anything for him, including, but not limited to, murdering his wanker of an ex-boyfriend.

Or, Henry is a witch with a slew of dead ex-boyfriends, and Alex has a badge and a gun.

The Consequences (Of our Actions) series by @anchoredarchangel. E, 135k. "I sort of came out as bisexual to both Nora and myself when we were watching that fucking snoozefest of a Royal Wedding years ago, and I told her with no hesitation that you were on my list.”

Suddenly, Henry looks very present in this previously one-sided conversation, eyes boring into him even if he sounds a little choked as he clarifies, “I was on-”

“My No Consequences sex list,” Alex confirms brazenly, “Yeah."

Or: During an inadvisable spot of dating years back, Alex and Nora made a game out of making extensive lists of celebrities they could hook up with without it being cheating. One breakup and several years later, Alex meets someone on his list for the very first time at a charity gala and decides it's appropriate to tell him all about it.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs Part One

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs Part Three

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

[reigningqueenofwords]

Daddy's Hurt

Pairing: past Dean x Reader, Reader x Henry (OC) Word count: 1,902 Warnings: Character death, angst

Read on AO3

Quitting hunting once you saw that little pink plus sign wasn’t hard.

Quitting drinking in the same breath wasn’t hard.

Quitting the all nighters wasn’t hard.

Quitting Dean Winchester? Now that, was hard. In all honesty, it was the hardest thing you’d ever done in your life. You’d had your fair share of hospital stays, losing friends and family, watching innocent people die, and more.

Your son was just a year old when things went to hell. Thankfully, not literally, but it sure felt like it. “Dean, I can’t do this!” You hissed. “I can’t see you here and there. I can’t feel like a single mother while you’re out there.”

He shot you a look. “I’m trying here, Y/N!” He snapped. “I’m trying to hunt down Amara, I’m trying to keep hunting, I’m trying to be the best father I can, and I’m running myself into the damn ground!” Dean said through clenched teeth.

Tearing up, you shook your head. “You don’t get it, do you?” You breathed. “I get that you’re working hard. I get that you’re trying, but I feel like we’re the last on your list. Hunting, Amara, Sam, Baby, everything comes before me. Before Drew. And that’s not fair to him.”

Sipping his beer, he sighed. “I don’t know what you want from me.” He shrugged.

“Nothing, Dean. I guess I want nothing.” You said, an ache in your chest. “I’m moving into a spare room.”

You and Dean still found your way into each other’s arms at night from time to time. Your stomach always twisted with guilt and confusion after. Months passed with this happening, each time you told yourself it was the last time. Then he’d smile at you, say the right words, and you’d give in.

Finally, when your son was 2 ½, you couldn’t do it anymore. Not after he accidentally called you while chatting some waitress up. They got back to find all your things packed, waiting to be moved to your car. “You know he probably did it on purpose. He wanted to make you jealous!” Sam told you, a sad attempt as his pleading to get you and Drew to stay. “He loves you, and misses you.”

Rolling your eyes, you buckled your toddler into his seat and stood up straight to look at Sam. “You’re one of my best friends, and I love you. However, you’re full of shit when it comes to this. Your brother doesn’t miss me, we both know it. He’s too busy being Dean.” You told him, and you could see it in his eyes that he knew you were right.

“I hope you aren’t going far?” Sam pouted.

You shut the car door and pulled him into a hug. “No, Drew deserves to be near his Daddy and Uncle Sammy.” You assured him. “I got a little apartment about fifteen minutes from here, and a part time job at a grocery store. Was able to get him into a daycare nearby that.” You shrugged. “And we’ll come by now and then. You’ll be able to come over, too, once my apartment is set up.”

Sam gave you another hug, squeezing you lightly. “I’ll come crash on your couch.” He teased you, the idea making you chuckle. “Go on. I’ll go take care of the grumpy one.” He motioned to where Dean was at the bunker door, sulking. His arms were crossed as he watched you glance his way, and then quickly turn to get in your car. He’d reluctantly said goodbye to his son, and he hated it. But, he also knew that you had your reasons. Sam was right. Dean loved you- a lot, but he was no good for you.

As you pulled away from the bunker, his green eyes watched your car until he could no longer see it. “It’s better this way.” Dean muttered as Sam neared.

“You’re an idiot.” Sam snapped, shaking his head.

Things were tense at first, between you and Dean, but you made things work for Drew. You had to. Simply because things didn’t work out between you and his father, didn’t mean he didn’t deserve the best of both of you.

Slowly, you got used to living in the community, made friends, and finally…moved on from Dean. You met a local mechanic named Henry, and the pair of you hit it off right away. Dean didn’t hold, back, either. When he had Drew for a weekend, and you were out with Henry, he would call. Constantly. And you couldn’t ignore him because he had your son. Thankfully, Henry understood. He had a five year old daughter, and a less than stellar ex-wife.

It wasn’t until Drew’s sixth birthday when the two men shook hands, and let the past remain there. You had been with Henry three years, and saw a future with him. Hoped for a future with him, and finally having Dean accept that meant a lot to you.

“Hey, I gotta hit the road.” He told you.

You rolled your eyes. “What, was shaking Henry’s hand too much for you?” You asked sarcastically.

He shook his head. “No, I meant that. I want to be your friend, not just the man you co-parent with. If Henry comes with it, so be it.” He shrugged, surprising you. “No, uh, Jody called. Her and Claire need some help with a bad vamp’s nest.” He kept his voice low. “Sam’s saying goodbye to the birthday boy right now.”

“As long as you come home in one piece.” You told him.

“Don’t I always?” He smirked. “Later, Y/N. You knocked this party out of the park.” He complimented you, but you heard the ache in his voice.

He turned to go, but you stopped him. “Dean?” He turned to you, a questioning look on his face. “You knock being his daddy out of the park.” His face lit up, and you knew how much that meant to him.

Walking into the living room, you stretched and flopped on the couch. “As soon as Dean is back from his business trip, he can have Drew for a couple days.” You chuckled to Henry as he ran his hand through your hair. “Kid is like a wind up toy when he’s tired. How does that even work?”

Henry shrugged. “Miley is still like that, and she’s 8.” He smiled down at you. “We’ll make it through, we have each other.” He said lovingly.

“Yeah, we do.” You smiled up at him before your phone rang. Reaching over, you grabbed it from the coffee table and fear struck you when you saw Jody’s name. You sat up as you answered it. “Jody?” You asked, your voice wavering.

“Hey, Y/N.” She said softly, and you could hear beeping behind her. “I-I wanted to call and tell you myself.”

“Tell me what?” You were dreading the words that you’d feared hearing for years.

She let out a breath before answering. “Dean’s in a coma.” She told you, and you could hear the tears. “I’m sorry I had to tell you, but I thought it would be better coming from me than some doctor.”

Tearing up, you nodded. “Y-yeah. Thanks, Jody.” You licked your lips. “I’m glad you’re okay. What about Claire, and Sam?” You worried. Feeling Henry rub your back, you glanced at him, seeing a concerned look on his face.

“Sam needed a few stitches, Claire has a broken arm, and I have a minor concussion.” She explained as if it was no big deal. You could just picture her shrugging. “But, you know Dean.” She sighed.

“Yeah, I do.” You agreed. “Keep me up to date?” You asked, knowing that there was no way to just call off work and make the trek to whatever state they were in. “I’m gonna let you get some rest, though, Jody.”

“He’ll be okay. Always is.” She told you. “Night, sweetheart.”

Once the two of you hung up, your hand dropped to your lap, your eyes staring a head, although you didn’t see a damn thing. “Babe?” Henry asked quietly. However, all around his simple question, you felt your world coming down around you. Three years, and now the truth would come out. You weren’t just some normal mother. Your ex wasn’t some guy who traveled for business. You were hunters, and although you hadn’t hunted in years, it was part of your soul.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down. “Dean’s in a coma.” You told him.

“What happened?” He asked, worried.

Letting out a sick chuckle, you shook your head, looking at him. “I’m sorry.” You told him. “To answer that, I’m going to have to tell you everything I’ve kept hidden.”

He pulled his hand away, furrowing his brows. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve never wondered why we’ve never mentioned what Dean does when he’s away on business? Or what I did before I worked at the store?” You saw the gears working in his brain. “It’s because he’s a hunter.” He looked at you like you were insane. “Vampires, werewolves, all real. Well, Jody called him and Sam in to help with a vamp’s nest- a gathering of vampires basically. They all got hurt, and Dean’s in a coma.”

Henry stared at you. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Shaking your head, you proceeded to explain about everything, even pulling out a trunk with all your old hunting gear, and your old journal.

The next morning, it was clear that you were beyond exhausted. Henry walked out the night before. Miley was with her mother, so he said he’d be back for what things they kept at your house. Hearing small feet, you looked over to see Drew coming in. The bedhead and eyes he got from his father pulling at your heartstrings, and threatening to make more tears fall. “Mommy, what’s wrong?” He asked when he looked up, tilting his head to the side.

Swallowing, you slid off the stool you were on and crouched. “Baby, Daddy’s hurt.” You told him, taking his little hands in yours. His little green eyes widened with fear. “He was with Aunt Jody, Uncle Sam, and Claire. And there was an accident.”

“Is Daddy okay?!” He whimpered, tears filling his eyes, breaking your heart.

How did you explain this to a 6 year old? “Daddy’s having a hard time waking up.” That was the best way you could think to put it. “He’s in the hospital, but Aunt Jody promised to tell mommy what’s going on.”

He wrapped his arms around your neck. “What if Daddy doesn’t wake up?!” He sobbed.

You rubbed his back, wishing you could take his worry and pain away. “Daddy’s tough. He’ll be okay.”

In the two days since Jody called, you’d spent all your time with Drew when you weren’t at work. He wanted to make his daddy as many crafts as he could for when he came back. He was currently eating his snack and watching his favorite cartoon while you worked on laundry, making the house feel oddly normal considering.

As you leaned down to pull the clothes from the dryer, you felt your phone vibrating and pulled it from your pocket. “Hello?” You answered, figuring it was Henry, wanting to get the last of his things.

“Y/N.” Sam breathed, making you freeze. “D-dean didn’t make it.” He choked out.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst

[rosypenguins]

🖤Drew Sickfic💛

* + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * +

Synopsis: Despite waking up feeling feverish, Drew forces himself to attend school.

A/N: I don’t really have a better name for this fic, but it’s one of my favorites so-

* + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * + * +

"Wow, you look like hell."

Drew sighed as opened his locker, ignoring Henry's comment regarding his appearance. He barely took any time to get ready that morning, only throwing on his hoodie and jeans before leaving for school. His hair was no doubt a mess, and the bags under his eyes were likely obvious. Not to mention the mask on his face being a complete giveaway to his current condition.

"You good, dude?" Liam asked, and Drew threw his bag into his locker before turning to face them.

"'Fine," He answered, leaning against his locker for support. "Just tired."

"You look ill," Henry commented. He reached over and placed his hand against Drew's forehead, only for Drew to swat him away. "Jeez, dude! You're burning up!" He exclaimed, earning an eye roll from Drew.

"I know."

"Why didn't you just stay home?" Liam questioned, and Drew simply shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not-” Drew paused, quickly turning to cough into his sleeve. “It’s not that bad.” Liam frowned.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to attend class like this?” His voice was softer than usual, and it gave Drew an odd feeling in his stomach. He opened his mouth to answer, only to have a familiar voice speak over him.

"Hey guys!" Drew turned around to see Jake walking over, but the moment his eyes met Drew, he paused.

"Woah, Drew, you alright?" He asked. Henry answered for him.

"He's sick." Drew tilted his head.

"I'm fine." He stated firmly, and he could tell Liam wanted to say something, but before he could, the bell rang.

“Come on, we have to go to class,” Drew didn’t wait for them to answer him, quickly turning and heading off to his first class.

* + * + *

Drew’s first two periods were relatively easy. He had Liam in his second hour, who helped him stay focused on the lecture. However, as the day continued, Drew found himself growing increasingly exhausted, nearly falling asleep during the lessons until a violent cough managed to wake him. His body felt so unbearably hot, and he began to severely regret wearing a hoodie that day. When it was finally lunch, Drew couldn’t bring himself to order anything. Instead, he laid his head down on the table, cherishing the coolness of the polished wood. He couldn’t even register what his friends were talking about. They… sounded more hushed than usual, though.

By the time lunch ended, Drew found himself struggling to walk straight, and he dimly noted how Jake had a hand on his arm, guiding him to their next hour. In fact… Drew didn’t think Jake left his side once after that, even going out of his way to walk him to his 7th hour despite not sharing that class with him.

By the time school was out, Drew was about ready to collapse. He stood slumped against his locker, the cold of the metal feeling like pure bliss in that moment.

"Are… you even gonna be able to make it home like this?" Drew looked up. That… was Jake’s voice, right? He blinked, but… he couldn’t seem to focus. Everything was blurry.

Drew stared down at his hands, suddenly feeling very dizzy. He stumbled forward. Everything was spinning. Voices became muffled. He was leaning against someone, but he couldn’t figure out who.

Wait… when did he even fall?

Dark spots soon began to appear in Drew's vision, and before knew it, he was out cold.

* + * + *

Drew woke up some time later, finding himself in a small, stiff bed. Slowly, he lifted his head, blinking as he focused on his surroundings. Was this the nurse’s office? How did he get here?

"Okay, I will…" Drew turned to see Jake standing in the corner of the room, his phone against his ear. "Love you too, Mom… Bye.”

"J…Jake..?" Drew whispered, his voice a bit raspy. Jake turned around, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Drew!" Before he knew it, Jake was running over to his side, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. Normally, Drew would've protested such an action, but there was something so comforting about Jake's presence that he ended up returning the embrace, tucking his head into the crook of the blonde’s neck.

"You're finally awake," Jake said. "Do you feel alright?"

"Wha… what happened?"

"You passed out by the lockers!” Jake exclaimed. Drew lifted his head to face him, but kept his arms loosely wrapped around Jake’s shoulders. “We didn’t know what to do, so we rushed you here.” Drew gave a small nod. “Henry and Liam couldn’t stay though. They had to catch the bus.” Another nod, and Jake’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, right! I need to text them…” Jake’s voice trailed off as let go of Drew, reaching into his pocket and sending a quick text to their group chat. Although slightly awkward, Drew managed to keep his arms wrapped around Jake’s shoulders, glancing over to read the text he sent.

“Are you just gonna… stay like that?” Jake asked after he sent it, returning his phone to his pocket.

“Like what?” Drew asked, a small frown forming on his face.

“Like…” Jake motioned to where Drew’s arms were. “This?”

“There a problem with it?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. Jake let out a small laugh.

“God, I am not gonna let you forget this,” He said to himself. Drew narrowed his eyebrows, confused by Jake’s comment. However, he opted to say nothing, returning his head to the crook of Jake’s neck and taking in a slow breath. Jake let out a small hum as he wrapped his arms around Drew, pulling himself closer and running a hand through Drew’s hair, silently playing with the magenta locks.

…This felt like a dream…

#tmf #the music freaks #tmf drew #tmf jake #tmf liam #tmf henry #tmf drake #tmf jomies #tmf fanfic #freakblr #druffering

[porcelainmortal]

Several Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @iboatedhere @itsmaybitheway and @getmehighonmagic for the tags!

I did a ton of writing for The Big Sad yesterday but it's either really smutty or really spoilery, so here is a bit from Handyman!Alex part 3, coming soon to an ao3 near you.

When Alex gets to the kitchen, Pez is already there, sipping coffee in a colorful, floral, silk dressing gown. “Good morning, Mrs. Roper,” Alex grins. “A fashion icon if I ever saw one. I’ll take that compliment,” Pez says cheerfully. “You’re awfully energetic this morning.” “I don’t get hangovers,” Pez says simply. “Of course.” Alex shakes his head. “Is there more coffee?” “But of course, Alexander.” Pez moves around the island, giving Alex access to the French press. He doctors it up with his cinnamon and sugar and takes a big gulp, sighing in relief. Pez watches him carefully over the rim of his mug. “What?” Alex asks, feeling self-conscious. “You know, before I met you, I wasn’t quite sure you were good enough for our dear Hazza.” “Oh?” He asks nervously. “Hm. I only had his stories to go by, you understand. I had to meet you for myself.” Pez places his mug on the island, tapping his silver fingernails against the ceramic in rapid succession. “I’m sure you’re aware by now that Henry is one of the best people on this planet.” It’s the most serious Alex has seen Pez and it jolts him awake more effectively than any amount of caffeine could. “I am,” feels like all he can say. “Good. Then you know that he deserves someone who is deserving of him. Someone who will love him the way he deserves to be loved. Openly and wholly.” Alex’s breath catches in his throat. “He’s found that in you.”  It’s not a question.  “Oh, well… we haven’t said– ” he chokes. “I mean– I haven’t. We–” “It’s okay,” Pez smiles. “He doesn’t seem to know. But I hope you’ll tell him soon.”

That was a lot of sentences! But I couldn't resist the opportunity to share a bit of Pez, the best best friend anyone could have. I just need to finish editing this beast and it will be live sometime this week!

Some no-pressure tags: @anchoredarchangel @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @firenati0n @inexplicablymine @kiwiana-writes @myheartalivewrites @orchidscript @three-drink-amy and an open tag for anyone who wants it!

#rwrb fanfic #alex x henry #ao3 #fanfic #several sentence sunday #wip

[yanandreckless]

Spicy Alphabet: August Walker

Author's note: I am currently watching (almost) everything Henry Cavill has been in during his career and so since I love doing these alphabets and consider them almost character studies, I'll do these for several of his boys :3 (it'll be a while before I have time for Geralt and Charlie, though) but August ended up being the first :3 Feel free to comment and tell me who you wanna see next! A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) While he will not outright ask for it, August wants validation. Does he want to know he did a good job? Sure, but he would prefer to know he did the best job. And while utilitarian parts of aftercare like cleaning up, changing the sheets, rehydrating, or taking care of marks are things he would do without much fuss or prompting, in an efficient and almost detached way, don’t be fooled by his calculated movements and his stone face. He needs aftercare too. He needs to be acknowledged and appreciated. He wishes he got cuddled, too. He will refuse it all, and very bitterly too, if he perceives it as mocking, so be careful. Basically, stroke his ego without patronizing him. Over time, he will lower his walls a bit. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) While he was wet behind the ears at the Agency, August was self-assured and cocky that he was All That: tall, muscular, and with that handsome face! He soon realized it was actually a drawback for intelligence work. He is so handsome that he is extremely memorable, which is horrible for a spy, obviously. His career path had to change and adjust due to this and he perceives it as something that is holding him back. It also especially fuels his disdain and hatred for IMF and their super masks. He views it as cheating almost. Since he values his own hard work so much, he’s most proud of his muscles, especially his abdomen and thighs. On a partner, while he can’t help but respect strength and power, he’s mostly drawn to fragility. Wrists so thin he can capture them both in one hand, a swing so weak it can’t even turn his head, a stature so small that they simply have to rely on him for protection. Also small tits. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) A disgusting territorial animal, this one. He loves it when he can smear it all over a chest or even a face, and he also loves it when he can cum deep, deep inside, getting off on the fact that he just can do that, especially if he’s the first/only one to do it to the person. It goes both ways, he loves the messy juices of his partner all over him. He’ll happily feed you his cum from his fingers, he’ll happily let you sit on his face and drink all you have, he’ll be happy as a clam if you squirt, and he’ll happily indulge in messy snowballing. He might even tolerate laughter over how messy his mustache looks afterward, or he might spank you for it. Either way, good times will be had. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He really, really, really craves all that validation and praise in an environment where he’s free to bask in it and not defensive over loving it. He wants to be vulnerable but safe. It’s not even related to specific activities when he imagines himself being pampered, it’s mostly just a person of much smaller stature, weaker than him in every way, having as much power over him as he can handle, and then a bit more. Good luck getting him to admit it, though, even if he behaves in ways that make it painfully obvious at times. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Experienced. Knows what he’s doing well enough, but may fall victim to believing he knows better than his partner. Very likely to utter the phrase “trust me, you’re gonna love this” with varying degrees of success. He’s fairly cocky but since he loves doing a great job so much, he’ll pick up on what works and focus on that. If, however, a suggestion of his was met with reluctance only for his partner to actually do love it once they try, it will result in merciless, endless teasing over it for a while. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Any position where he feels like he’s powerfully steamrolling or bulldozing his way through it. Holding his partner in the air (without a wall to help, thank you very much!), bending his partner in half so mating press or full nelson isn’t off the table at all, having a flexible partner he can contort in all sorts of positions for his pleasure, any face down/ass up exaggerated variant of doggy… although he will be surprisingly pliant if his partner really insists on flipping them over and riding him. If they’re good at it, expect a wide-eyed and slightly stunned August. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.) Usually more serious, sometimes bordering on grim/violent. But he can be more lighthearted, especially if there’s an opportunity to tease. This man loves getting on people’s nerves, so if his partner moans “Oh God”, you can expect a “Name’s Walker, by the way.” thrown back. (or whatever name his current mission had him assume, you get the jist)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) The carpet matches the drapes, he’s a dark brunette for real, and he’s not overly meticulously groomed, as can almost be concluded just by seeing that permanent messy stubble next to an obviously longer stache. He trims parts, shaves other parts, and then the shaved parts may grow into annoying stubble before he shaves them again. Get on his case about this, get spanked. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) He conceals his desire for genuine intimacy as kink. He’ll grab the back of his partner’s neck and insist on constant eye contact and hope it just appears dominant and not needy. He’ll kiss a lot, he’ll insist on as many body parts touching as possible, he’ll hold tight and grab, bite and suck and pinch, all in clumsy craving for closeness. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Methodical about it most of the time, he’ll do it to take the edge off when needed and he won’t drag it out. Unless he’s got a specific flame to think about. He’ll delight in planning devious scenarios for them then. But even so, he’s not exactly the most patient so he’ll still not drag it out too too much. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Size and strength difference in his favor for sure. Marks. Being rough. Being absolutely filthy and messy. But also, perhaps surprisingly, feisty partners. He loves being defied and challenged, he loves brats because fucking them dumb feels sweeter. And if he loves something above everything, it’s hearing them apologize and beg when they realize the mess they’d gotten themselves into.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He doesn’t care, it could be anyone’s bed, a bathroom, a hallway, a park, a dressing room, an elevator… As long as it doesn’t endanger a mission, he couldn’t care less. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) While he really loves obedience and being looked at like he hung the moon, he loves it even more if it’s hidden behind feisty brattiness. Challenging his authority gets him going but it makes him rough, so play wisely. He loves proving that he’s needed to someone who tries to tell them they’re independent and capable and strong. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs) Share. He hates sharing anything with anyone he deems competition, be it credit, work, space, resources, or people. So don’t even joke about it because unlike riling him up in a fun way, this will rile him up genuinely because it hits him right in his biggest insecurity of not being good enough. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He prefers giving, especially right after or right before he receives because he can then prove how scrambled he made the other person. It’s almost like he competes even with his partner from time to time. Means he’s low on praise reserves. Help him. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Almost always fast and rough. If you’ve been a good baby, he’ll heed your warnings of something hurting and slow down but if you’ve been riling him up like a fucking brat, he’ll tell you to shut up and take it and he won’t stop even if you cry. He’ll gag or spank/slap you if you keep whining. And if you’ve been especially horribly bad, he’ll try to get you to zone out or even pass out from overstimulation. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Loves them. A lot. He’ll initiate them when they appear the most dangerous, when the mood strikes, or when you guys don’t have time, or when you think he won’t do it this time… the list goes on, but he loves them almost as much as he loves having all night or day to do as he pleases.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.) Very game to experiment. He’ll initiate quickies in public places and delight in your terror at being heard or seen, and in your embarrassment if you’d been right. Personally, he’d be down for having an outright audience, he’d love it if everyone was able to see how well he’s scrambling your brain with his cock. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) He prefers going multiple rounds to lasting super long on one round. Again, he’s not the most patient of men but also he does love making a huge mess. Fucking his cum back into you just to add another load is among his favorite things. 

T = Toys (do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?) He can turn almost anything into bondage equipment on the fly so he doesn’t really own a wide array of, say, ropes or cuffs or chains. Likewise, plenty of things can become impact play toys. He loves being creative. He does have some equipment, among which is a knife he uses only for playtime, and if you’re especially scared of it and adamant about never having anything to do with it, he will still talk about it and tease you with the idea of it and with how much of a scaredycat little baby you are. For more conventional toys, he’d be open to using vibrators on you but he’d always make sure you know nothing can compete with the feeling of him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He’s somewhere in the middle. He’s not patient enough for huge rounds of teasing but he does love to get on your nerves and drive you mad and not even being good and obedient will save you from this if he’s in the mood for it. He’s not the fairest of Doms by any means. The best way to put yourself out of this misery is to cry and beg, but if he sees through you on it not being fully genuine desperation… gods help you. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) A growler and grunter. Can be completely silent if he puts his mind to it, but prefers not to be. He loves having his mouth close to his ear so you can hear all his pants and grunts and growls and filthy things spewed through clenched teeth.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He actually loves a bit of teeth during blowjobs. Scrape them along his length, nip him a bit. He’ll delight in the simple thrill of it and he’ll enjoy threatening you into being good. He’s also a disgusting, territorial animal, so he may use this as a segway into some watersports. Or just get into watersports anyway. As long as you don’t safeword and as long as you didn’t explicitly state a hard limit, he doesn’t see the reason to hold back. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) No Henry Cavill character will be small because that’s just the law. Unquestionable. I am not taking questions. Big, thick, cut, veiny. Adores it if his partner can’t close their fingers around him. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Very high but in his mind, a lot of the time, it starts as a desire for a lot of bickering, tumbling, butting heads, wrestling… just sexy conflict. And then that riles him up and bets are off from that point. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward) Depends. Is he working? Does he trust you’re harmless? Is he hurt/too exhausted? Did he get all the nervous energy out of his system? Is he… gods forbid… in love with you? So it varies from immediately to never. 

#mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #august walker #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #august walker fanfiction #alphabet #fanfic #august walker smut #august walker x reader

[princessasmosprincess]

Charmed, I'm Sure

Chapter 26

Summary: No human has ever avoided Asmodeus's charm. Except for you.

Pairing: Asmodeus x GN Reader/MC

Genre: Drama, angst, a bit of fluff.

Warnings: Sleep inducing magic.

***

Author's Note: I made it in 27 days, that's an improvement for me ;3

***

“I see.” Diavolo folded his hands in front of him on the dinner table as Barbatos began to serve dessert, “So that's how you managed to make it safely out of the underground labyrinth.”

Diavolo had asked for a retelling of your group’s adventure and it had taken all of dinner to explain. Solomon meticulously reported the group’s every move starting from the moment he summoned Asmo to his side, while Mammon and Levi filled in the parts before their party had met up with yours. Beel’s contribution to the conversation was mostly in the form of affirmative grunts as he stuffed his face with Barbatos’ delicious cooking. Every so often, Diavolo would ask direct questions of you or the others, listening intently all the while.

Asmo butted in when it came to the part he had played in the grand escape. His interpretation of the events was quite theatrical and self indulgent, making it seem like using his charm on Henry had been his idea all along. You met eyes with Solomon from across the table but he’d just shrugged and neither of you said anything to correct Asmo’s embellishments to the story.

“You know, now that I think about it, the whole reason we were able to escape was because of me and how stunningly beautiful I am!” Asmo tossed his hair.

“Yeah, but you were also the reason all of you ended up in the labyrinth to begin with, Asmo.” Satan said.

“Right, that's what I'm sayin'. That was terrible, and it was all YOUR fault, Asmo!” Mammon pointed at him accusingly with his dessert fork.

Asmo glared daggers at his older brother. Lies and slander. It had all been a big mistake. Helene had just been too emotional to deal with seeing Asmo’s beauty after so long that she’d lashed out. Who could blame her? He really was that gorgeous. Asmo was about to say something to defend himself when Diavolo spoke.

“You really should be careful in the castle. There are a number of items here with suspicious histories to them.” The demon prince frowned, swirling his glass of Demonus. “I can't guarantee that there aren't others in the castle who also want to get even with you, Asmodeus.”

There was something he wasn't saying, Asmo could tell, just like earlier when he’d given Asmo that odd look before he’d left your assigned room.

But Asmo didn't care, not really. He didn't have time to figure out what Diavolo’s cryptic behavior meant. That was a job for someone closer to the prince, like Lucifer. He’d simply have to wait until Lucifer decided to tell him what it all meant, if it was even relevant by then.

“It's just wrong to be this beautiful…” Asmo sighed.

***

After dinner, everyone thought it best to retire for the night. It had been a very long day.

“Well, time for me to get some sleep. Nighty-night, you two!” Asmo said as he patted an evening moisturizing mask into his skin, his bangs pulled back with a couple of bobby pins. He’d forwent his usual leisurely bath in favor of a quick shower. It was impressive just how efficient his nightly routine was, completing the multi-step process in only minutes.

“You're going to bed already?” Simeon asked, paging through one of the books on the side table, “It's awfully early for that.”

“Lack of sleep leads to unhealthy skin, and I don't want that! I'm sure both of you want to see me looking my best, right?” Asmo hung his silk robe on a hook before searching for something in one of the several bags he’d brought with him. “We have the dance tomorrow, remember? I may no longer be an angel but I’m still that Radiant Jewel everyone knows and loves. I have to dazzle, that’s what people are expecting and I will not disappoint.”

“Well, I suppose that means that I'll get to enjoy some peace and quiet tonight, which is much appreciated.” Simeon selected a book, Dante’s Inferno, and sat on his bed, crossing his ankles as he cracked it open on his lap.

You changed into your pajamas behind the modesty screen, “I was thinking of going to bed now, too.” By the end of dinner you’d had difficulty keeping yourself awake. Satan had even needed to poke you in the side a few times as you’d spaced out over dessert. Your body and mind were worn out from everything that had happened in the labyrinth.

“I hope you have sweet dreams, MC,” said Simeon as he dimmed the lights of the room, leaving a single magically lit candle by his bedside for a reading light.

“Thank you, I hope you do too.” You pulled back the covers on your bed.

“The sweetest dreams are the ones involving me,” Asmo tossed a wink over his shoulder at you as he turned down his own bedding. He pulled out a cobalt blue spray bottle and spritzed the sheets about a dozen times until the vapor glittered in the air as it floated down onto the bed. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance, “You’ll have to tell me if something spicy happens between the two of us, it’s only fair.” He set the bottle down on the bedside table before hopping onto his bed.

The poof of the comforter under Asmo’s weight sent a bit of the fine mist swirling in your direction, you could feel it settling over your skin. It was a pleasant scent, relaxing and cozy.

Asmo slipped a pink silk sleep mask over his eyes as he nestled into the plush bedding, his back turned to you.

The bedroom door burst open.

“HEY! Look who's here...it's Mammon! And you know what that means?! You ain't gonna be gettin' ANY sleep tonight! АНАНАНА!” He made a beeline for your bed and sat, bouncing a few times.

“Mammon, it's late,” you complained, making a point to lay back onto your pillow and pulling the covers over yourself.

Simeon gave a longsuffering sigh, “Asmo, he's your brother, isn't he? Do you think you could possibly do something about him?”

Asmo gave a low growl, tipping up the corner of his sleep mask as he sent a single sticker over text to Lucifer. How that could possibly be helpful, you weren't sure.

“All right all right all right! Time for a pillow fight deathmatch with the Avatar of Greed himself!” He clawed at your sheets as if to free you from your comfy nest of blankets, while you did everything in your power to keep them around you. “LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!”

The screen of Asmo’s D.D.D. went dark and he further cocooned himself in the plush comforter.

“Mammon, please,” You debated trying a pact command on him to get him to stop, but without the use of magic it was very hit or miss whether a command would “take”. It was more like a suggestion and gentle prodding in your favor rather than full control over him, and he usually had to be paying attention and already somewhat inclined to do what you asked. Right now Mammon was neither.

“Let's get started before that ass Lucifer comes round on patrol and starts botherin' us!” He laughed mischievously, tearing the pillow from under your head.

“I'm sorry. Who did you just call an ass?” Lucifer’s dark form filled the doorway.

“Yikes!” Mammon ducked behind your bed.

Lucifer crossed the room in three strides, “You're coming to my room. Now. And tonight it's not going to be just me in there, but Diavolo as well. I have a feeling we're going to have all sorts of fun, don't you?” His eyes glowing as his hand closed tightly around Mammon’s forearm, yanking him out the door and closing it behind him.

When the room was silent once again, Asmo shifted under the covers and Simeon resumed reading his book by candlelight.

Despite that brief disruption, you could feel the tension of the day rolling off of you as you settled into your own bed, replacing your pillow and cuddling into the comforter once more, everything fading to black as your eyes slipped closed.

You drifted off to sleep in a cloud of lavender and vanilla and something herbal you couldn't quite place…

***

You woken up way too soon by a knock at the bedroom door.

“Come in!” Asmo sang cheerfully. He'd already been awake for a while, having completed his morning skincare routine, now putting the finishing touches on his makeup as he hummed to himself.

The door swung open and Lucifer stepped into the room.

“Good morning, Lucifer,” Simeon stretched as he woke, greeting his former brother. “You're up bright and earlier than I’m used to. That’s two days in a row.”

“With good reason,” said Lucifer, his voice gruff from the earliness of the hour but his appearance pristine, “Breakfast will begin in twenty minutes, I trust none of you will be late, especially the two of you under my charge?”

“I’m almost ready,” Asmo said, twirling once in front of the bathroom mirror. “Oh but look at them, still snoozing away. It’s like we have another Belphie on our hands.”

You were still snuggled into the comforter.

It felt like it had been no more than a few minutes since you went to bed last night. Like Lucifer had dealt with Mammon and returned right away. Confused, you tried to will your eyes to open, but they wouldn't. Your mind was awake, and you could hear everything that was going on. But you were still tired.

It wouldn't take you that long to get ready, five more minutes of sleep would be fine…

Lucifer nudged your shoulder. “MC, wake up.”

“Mmh…” You rolled over in bed and sunk deeper into the covers, not being able to find the words to answer Lucifer or send him away.

With a sigh, he knelt at your bed, leaning over your sleeping form. The lingering scent of Asmo’s pillow spray wafted over you with his movement.

“Not a morning person? Well neither am I,” Lucifer’s low voice whispering in your ear would have sounded seductive if he didn't follow it up with a mild threat, “Downstairs in twenty minutes or I’ll have Beel eat your portion of breakfast.”

It didn't matter, your eyes still wouldn't open and your limbs felt heavy and useless. You couldn't get out of bed and you didn't really want to. It was too early for this, though you didn't know what time it was. You just knew you needed to sleep longer.

Your enchanted bracelet buzzed away on your ankle, feeling like a light shock of electricity, a zap running up your leg. But you began to tune it out. You were so… So sleepy…

Lucifer sniffed the air as he stood between your bed and Asmo’s. “Is that Nightfog oil?”

“Hmm?” Asmo was busy gazing into his own eyes in the mirror. “Oh, yes it is. It’s in that new pillow spray I got from Savonne,” he indicated the spray bottle on the bedside table, “Doesn't it just smell lovely?”

Lucifer gave an exasperated sigh, “Asmodeus, you can't use Nightfog oil around humans, not without taking extreme care. It’s too potent.”

“What? How was I supposed to know?” Asmo squeaked.

“You would know if you paid attention in Applied Magical Potions last semester,” Lucifer picked up the glass bottle and squinted to read the ingredients list. There was no warning label. He would have to inform Diavolo so the oversight could be corrected. “It can cause somnolence, and in large doses, prolonged sleep. You only used it on your own bed, correct?”

“Huh?” Asmo didn't realize he was gripping the edge of the countertop so tightly until he heard a faint pop sound and looked down to see the cracks spiderwebbing from his fingertips across the surface. He pushed off from the counter and went to dig in his makeup bag for some nail polish to fix a chipped nail. “Yes, I… It wasn't a very large dose, I just sprayed it a few times on the sheets.”

“They had no direct contact with it?”

Asmo shook his head, avoiding Lucifer’s eye as he twisted open the bottle of pink nail polish, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice, “Th-they should be ok then, right?”

Lucifer shook you a bit harder to see if you would stir. “Direct contact or ingestion is when Nightfog oil is at its most…” He chose his words carefully, noticing Asmo’s anxiety, “Efficacious. The fact that it’s been diluted with other ingredients is also good but…” You just continued to sleep, now snoring lightly.

“Oh dear,” Simeon came to your bedside. “Is there something we can do? I would offer to give them a blessing but I don’t think that would be wise to do within the Demon Lord’s castle.”

“No, it wouldn't be.” Lucifer scrubbed his face with his hand. This was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with right now, especially at this hour. He waved toward the bed behind him, “We have to remove the stimuli. Strip the sheets and pillows from Asmo’s bed and have the little Ds come collect them. They’ll need to be replaced.” He got up and threw open the window while Simeon dealt with the bedding.

Asmo chewed on his lip as he watched from the bathroom doorway as Lucifer performed a spell to neutralize and expel the remaining scent. A light breeze rustled the sheets of your bed.

Lucifer moved to wake you again, rather aggressively if his body language was anything to go by, when Simeon laid a hand on his shoulder and took his place, kneeling by your side.

“MC, dear,” He brushed your hair out of your face, “It’s time to wake up.”

At Simeon’s caress, you began to stir. He helped you to sit up in bed as you stretched and woke.

“Nightfog oil, huh.” You grumbled, rubbing your tired eyes.

Asmo’s shoulders sagged in relief, as did Lucifer’s.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and reached down to massage your calf, the shock from your bracelet only just beginning to fade.

“Crisis averted.” Lucifer shot Asmo a pointed look, “I think we can forgo punishment this time since it seems to have been an accident. The last thing I need is for Diavolo to complain that I’m being too hard on you again.”

“Again?” Asmo asked.

He picked up the bottle of pillow spray, ignoring Asmo’s question, “However, I'm confiscating this so you don’t accidentally put MC under a hundred years’ restless sleep.” He slipped it into his pocket with a wry smile as the clock tower chimed a quarter to the hour. Lucifer caught your eye, “Fifteen minutes.” And swept out the door.

You stood and stumbled your way to the bathroom to get ready, nearly bumping into Asmo.

Something strange crossed over Asmo’s face, but it was gone as soon as it came, “Oh my,” He giggled nervously as he took in your bed head and bleary, dark rimmed eyes, glaring right at him.

With a quick nod, he shoved a jar of eye cream into your hands and hurried after Lucifer.

***

The magic eye cream Asmo let you borrow made you look well-rested, but you were practically falling asleep at the breakfast table.

When Diavolo caught you yawning as you filled your plate, he recommended Assam tea and personally poured you a cup. You were sure you saw Lucifer laughing behind his hand when he saw your reaction to your first sip, but he hid it well, falling back into polite conversation before you could call him out.

You’d only been able to choke down the bitter tea once you added copious amounts of honey (of the non-poisonous variety, Mammon wouldn't pass you the jar until he’d made sure of that, despite Barbatos informing him he'd only set the table with human-safe options) and milk to it. The tea did give you a little caffeine buzz and helped you feel more alert, but sleep’s siren call still tempted you in the recesses of your mind.

“All right, it's time to explain what we have planned for day two of our retreat.” Lucifer said, standing at the head of the breakfast table once everyone had finished eating.

“A scavenger hunt, right?” said Simeon.

“Yes, we'll be having a scavenger hunt.” Lucifer confirmed. “Each group will be given riddles to solve. Each riddle hints at one of the works of art or historical items here in the castle. Once you figure out the answer, you find and take a picture of the item in question. The things you learned during yesterday's tour of the castle should come in handy as you try solving your riddles.” He passed out itemized lists to everyone.

“We're doing this in groups, huh? In that case, I'm groupin' up with MC.” Mammon reached for your hand.

“Why don't we just say that the groups will be made up of the same people you share a room with?” Diavolo suggested.

Mammon growled, there was no arguing with the prince, not while Lucifer was there. He stomped away to join his group as everyone left the table, lists in hand.

Simeon helped you up from your chair, while Asmo hovered at a distance, waiting as the other groups dispersed in random directions.

“Since you actually got to finish the tour yesterday, Simeon, you’ll have to lead.” You said.

“Of course, I’d be happy to,” said Simeon. He scanned down the list thoughtfully. “Hm, Let’s start with the difficult things first.” He chose a riddle at the bottom of the list and read it through a few times. “The answer to this one is… The enchanted moondial in the back garden.”

“Alright,” Asmo gave a mock salute and took off, not waiting for either of you.

With a shrug, you took Simeon’s offered hand and the two of you followed after him.

**

Cross-posted on AO3

#charmed i'm sure #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #asmo #asmodeus #asmo obey me #asmodeus obey me #asmo x reader #asmo x mc #asmo x gn reader #asmo x gn mc #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x mc #asmodeus x gn reader #asmodeus x gn mc #lucifer obey me #simeon obey me #mammon obey me #diavolo obey me

[whumpcloud]

Things End | People Change - Simmering

masterlist

content: intimate whumper, vampire whumper, emotional abuse, gaslighting, reference to past drowning, reference to parental death

"C-Can I get you a-anything?" Vincent stammers, his polite nature getting the better of him until he remembers. "Um, do vampires… drink…?"

Lyfelde is still glancing around Vincent's flat in silence.

Vincent clears his throat. "M-Mr Lyfelde?"

"You're stammering, stop it," Lyfelde says, then waves a hand dismissively. "And yes, we are perfectly capable of drinking, or eating for that matter, there is simply no particular reason to aside from taste. But I would appreciate a cup of tea. However you make it. You wouldn't mind if I lit a fire, would you?"

Vincent wavers for a moment to process all of that information, then quickly nods and slips away to the kitchen. Lyfelde hasn't even looked at him since entering the building. When Vincent returns with two cups of tea, Lyfelde has sat himself down on a chair at the old wooden table.

"Mr Lyfelde?" Vincent says quietly. "Wouldn't you prefer to sit o-on the sofa?"

"No, I'm quite fine here," Lyfelde says. "Closer to the fire. Sit, sit. And remember to speak up, dear."

"Right," Vincent says, quiet again, then he clears his throat once more and raises his voice. "Right. Sorry."

He sits down opposite Lyfelde, and places down the teacups. He doesn't know what to say, what conversation he's supposed to start, so he sips at his tea instead.

"Surely you could've afforded somewhere nicer to stay," Lyfelde says, and Vincent chokes. "You have the manners of gentry, no doubt you have the money."

"I- um-" Stop stammering! "Yes, Mr Lyfelde, I… I just didn't want to be a burden by wasting too much money on a trip. My brother already sends me a generous amount of money for university expenses."

"Your brother?" Lyfelde's interest is clearly piqued. "You hadn't mentioned a brother."

"...I suppose I… saw no reason to?" Vincent awkwardly taps the table. "But yes. I have a brother. Henry. Eleven years my elder."

"Quite a bit older, then." Lyfelde smiles, leaning forward a little. "Tell me about him, dear. I'd like to know more about you."

Vincent is still surprised that Lyfelde cares to hear anything about him, as though they haven't met every few days that night. Lyfelde can tell in the way his mouth opens in surprise and he sits up straighter, as though he's trying to impress Lyfelde. Adorable.

"W-Well, he… he partially raised me," Vincent says. Tap tap tap. "Our parents passed when I was nine years old. He's… always taken care of me. He understands me better than most."

"Is he married, perhaps?" Lyfelde asks, taking Vincent's hand. Vincent sees an affectionate gesture. Lyfelde is simply irritated by the fidgeting. "Any children?"

"Yes, married, no children," Vincent replies. "Though last I heard they were trying. Anise - h-his wife - she's nice, she is, but I don't know her all too well. We only really speak in passing."

Lyfelde does the math. Eleven years older, making Henry Maddox thirty-three to Vincent's twenty-two. Humans die less nowadays. Henry might live until his seventies.

It's then that Lyfelde decides Vincent cannot return to England. Not for at least fifty years. Lyfelde can keep Vincent away for that long, surely. It's barely any time at all.

"They both sound lovely," is all he says out loud.

"They are," Vincent murmurs, then flinches and speaks up. "Sorry. They are."

Lyfelde smiles. Vincent is already being so obedient.

"Apologies if it feels as though I'm interrogating you," Lyfelde says, laughing slightly. "I'm simply interested."

"I… thank you," Vincent says, his face flushing. "Um… do… did… sorry. Is there anyone you consider family, Mr Lyfelde?"

Lyfelde hums. "Not nowadays. I certainly had family before, of course. But no-one now. Friends are also a rarity."

"That… must be lonely," Vincent says, tentatively.

"It can be," Lyfelde says, then tilts his head. "Wonderful that I met you then, isn't it?"

Vincent's face lights up in an awkward smile. "Are we… friends, Mr Lyfelde?"

"What else would you call us, dear?" Lyfelde laughs. So childish. "Now, there is one particular matter I'd like to discuss. Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

Vincent bites his lip, and nods. "Yes, I… have. And… I think… I would like to take it, Mr Lyfelde."

Lyfelde squeezes Vincent's hand. In a room as warm as this, it is the first time that Vincent notices how deathly cold Lyfelde is. Other vampires have laid their hands on him a few times. They're all cold. But Lyfelde's hands feel like ice.

"I was hoping you would," Lyfelde says. His fangs are hidden in his smile, this time. Can't have Vincent backing out now. "May I ask your reasoning?"

Vincent sighs softly, staring into his teacup. "I… I want to be respected. If I'm a vampire… I could be more… like you. I could be something. I have no chance to be anything as a human."

Lyfelde wants to laugh. He's somewhat sure that if he did, Vincent would still stay. But he doesn't, on the off-chance it will put the poor thing off, and simply presses his lips together to suppress it. So naive.

"You do understand what you are agreeing to?" Lyfelde asks, running a thumb over the back of Vincent's hand. "You must live off blood. You will not be able to go out in the sun without being burned. You cannot touch silver. All of the things I have explained to you before."

He's leaving a few details out. But it isn't as though Vincent knows better.

"B-But I won't die. I'll be stronger, I'll-" Vincent's mind goes to being eighteen, to suffocating on the water filling his lungs. "Nobody will be able to hurt me. Ever again."

Lyfelde bows his head to hide the involuntary smile. "I understand. Very well. I must ask, when do you plan to leave?"

"In a few weeks," Vincent replies. "I would like to be home for late August."

Lyfelde's eyes narrow as he looks up. "A few weeks?"

Vincent falters. "I- Is there… a problem, Mr Lyfelde?"

"You would really leave me so soon?" Lyfelde sighs and looks aside. He takes his hand back. "And here I was thinking that you and I…"

Vincent stammers for a moment too long, and Lyfelde stands, stepping towards the fire. He only has to wait for the guilt to begin seeping into Vincent.

"M-Mr Lyfelde, I didn't… mean it that way," Vincent tries. "You could always… always come with me--"

"Yes, because I should be the one to upend my life for you," Lyfelde scoffs.

"Mr Lyfelde, England is my home," Vincent says, a note of desperation in his voice. "I- Of course I would love to stay here, b-but--"

"But what, Vincent?" Lyfelde says, turning towards him, a cold look in his eyes. "It's fine. You can certainly run on home, if you wish."

Vincent is losing Lyfelde with every word he speaks. He stands, clutching his chest over his heart in a silent plea that does nothing to move Lyfelde at all.

"Please," Vincent says, "you have to understand--"

"I understand perfectly well!" Lyfelde snaps, and it is the first time Vincent has seen him angry. Lyfelde takes a step towards him and Vincent steps back. "It is fine. You may leave. As everyone else does."

"Mr Lyfelde--!"

Lyfelde moves much faster than Vincent's eyes can keep up with, and the next moment Vincent is on the floor, hand over his cheek, eyes wide and stinging with tears. The pain burns into his face, simmers under the surface. He stares up at Lyfelde, who has gone very, very still.

"Oh, Vincent, dear." Lyfelde's voice is soft again. "Let me have a look at that."

"N-No!" Vincent gasps, stumbling upright. "You--!"

"I didn't mean to do that," Lyfelde says, hands splayed to emphasise that he is not a threat - not anymore, at least. "Please, Vincent, there's no need to cower. It's only me."

Vincent hesitates, then lowers his hand. It is already stained. A wound has opened under his eye, dripping with blood that Vincent can't help but notice Lyfelde's eyes lingering on.

"Oh, poor thing," Lyfelde murmurs, and Vincent flinches when Lyfelde's hand lands on his cheek. "I must have scratched it open."

The wound is deep. Vincent shudders at the thought that this is a scratch.

"That hinders our plans somewhat," Lyfelde murmurs.

"What do you… mean, Mr Lyfelde?" Vincent asks quietly.

"Ah, I should have explained before," Lyfelde says, gently wiping some of the blood from Vincent's face. "Vampires heal quite quickly, I'm sure you've noticed. But it is a misnomer to call it healing. We simply return to the state we turned in. And that, unfortunately, includes any injuries."

Vincent's face drains of colour. "So… so I will have to wait?"

"Sadly," Lyfelde sighs. "Really, if you hadn't provoked me so, we could have had it over and done with tonight. But I couldn't bear to leave you with an eternal injury."

"I…" Vincent trembles. It sounded as though he was threatening to leave forever, didn't it? How could he have done that? "I apologise, Mr Lyfelde. I… I shouldn't have spoken that way. I- I would hate for you to feel lonely. I care for you, I do."

"...I know you do, dear," Lyfelde says. "Let's clean you up."

Vincent sits patiently as Lyfelde dabs him with a damp rag, doing his best not to wince. Regardless, there's going to be a nasty scar just under his eye once it heals over. And it likely won't heal for weeks. Vincent will have to put off turning until the very last moment.

And, well, Lyfelde hasn't mentioned how long it will take to adjust.

"Ah, I think I missed a little," Lyfelde murmurs.

Vincent freezes at the feeling of Lyfelde's tongue on his jaw. Lyfelde has had his mouth on Vincent more than once now, but this is different. Somehow more intimate than sucking Vincent's life from his neck. Vincent's breath hitches as Lyfelde's tongue curls and licks the last of the blood from his face.

"There we are," Lyfelde says, wiping Vincent's face dry.

Vincent doesn't object to Lyfelde's behaviour. Even as Lyfelde's hand snakes into his hair. There's a power that Lyfelde always feels when doing this, watching someone shape themselves to his will.

"I am so very glad I met you," Lyfelde smiles. Open mouthed. Fangs bared.

And Vincent's little face still lights up even as his eyes show fear.

taglist: @whumpsday @whumpycries @whumpwillow @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @whumpshaped @suspicious-whumping-egg @chiswhumpcorner @melancholy-in-the-morning @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @bloodinkandashes @whump-me-all-night-long @sickophantic @itsmyworld23 @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpdreamz @thebirdsofgay @sonder35 @maracujatangerine

#polly's prose #things end | people change #vincent maddox #ambrose lyfelde #whump #whump writing #vampire whumper #intimate whumper #GODDDDDDD. I'M NORMAL ABOUT THEM. SOOOO NORMAL. they make me so sick

[dross-the-fish]

Omg I love the anon kissing Hyde scene! Can we have a drabble about it?

Sure. Here you go, one short scene that ends in a kiss.

...

As Edward Hyde’s loud and smelly motorcar swerved down the road Anon found themselves wondering if agreeing to go with him had been a good idea. Everything was whizzing by in a blur, the lights from streetlamps and shopwindows leaving golden streaks in their peripheral vision. Edward’s head was thrown back, his grin ecstatic as the wind whipped his hair back.

“What a thrill it is to be alive!” he crowed.

For lack of anything else to hang on to Anon gripped his arm and buried their face in the fur of his coat. Finally, much to their relief, the car screeched to a halt.

“You can let go, we’ve arrived!” Edward chirped, giving Anon’s hair a ruffle and chuckling at the death grip they had on his sleeve.

Shakily they peeled themselves off of him and exited the car.

“Must you drive so fast? What if you hit someone?”

Hyde snorted, “Please, I know what I’m doing. If anyone so much as put a scratch in my car I’d disembowel them,”

Anon suspected that was neither a joke nor an exaggeration. Deciding not to press the matter further they took a look around. They had stopped in front of an elegant townhouse overlooking the river Thames.

“Been nearly twenty years since I was last here, but I couldn’t bear to see it sold off to some rich fool,” Hyde fiddled in his pocket until he pulled out a key, “Had a little trouble hanging on to it legally but forging paperwork is the least of my crimes,” key met lock with a soft clink and when Hyde turned it the metal gave a tired groan and resisted him, almost as though the house was loathe to welcome him back.

With a sharp twist of his hand the door yielded and creaked open. A hallway stretched before them, to the right a staircase leading to the second floor and to the left a spacious sitting room. Dust and cobwebs laid a grey film over elegant furniture. On the table a glass lay on its side and an old newspaper was spread out, as though someone had been reading. A faded, moth-eaten robe was draped over a chair and the fireplace had not been cleaned. It was as though the occupant had stepped out from the middle of their very life and simply vanished, leaving their home frozen in time.

Anon looked down at a pile of unopened mail stacked neatly on a side table. All addressed to a Dr. Henry Jekyll.

“Is this you?” they asked indicating the letters.

Hyde stared at them, cat-green eyes looking overly bright in the dim light, “No. He died. Probably for the best, he wasn’t strong enough to live my life. He was too soft, too used to luxury and comfort. It’s only me that could have survived in the end.”

Anon tilted their head curiously, “You knew him well?”

“We were close,” Hyde grunted shortly, it was clear that he had no desire to speak further of Henry Jekyll. With his cane he indicated a small door past the stairway, “That’s the lab down there, follow me.”

The door to at the end of the hall lead to a landing and a short stairwell that descended to a narrow, sunken and secluded courtyard. The connecting building was a stark contrast to Dr. Jekyll’s neat and luxurious home and there was something Anon found foreboding about the boarded-up door situated below the street level.

“Mmmm,” Hyde rumbled, “That’ll be trickier to get in, looks like they’ve sealed the door.”

“Maybe we could work the boards loo-“ Anon was cut off by a crash of shattering glass as Hyde swung his cane into one of the windows, knocking out ever pane and tearing down the wooden frame.

“Mind you don’t cut yourself,” Hyde said curtly as he crawled through.

Anon crawled after him, doing their best to avoid the glass. The lab was in shambles, broken vials strewn across the table, a large shattered mirror and ripped pages from a gutted journal scattered around the floor, as though someone had violently smashed everything in the room.

Edward seemed unfazed by the mess, not caring for the crunch of glass under his feet. He squatted in front of an old dresser next to a splintered work table and rummaged before producing a single vial of iridescent green liquid.

“There it is, one of the older versions of the formula, didn’t quite work as intended and it wore off in minutes but it had a rejuvenating effect and it purged a lingering illness from my body. Hopefully I can break this down and build up a new version of the serum for young Mr. Talbot,” He stopped to survey the lab, his countenance glum and sober, “I could have done something world changing here. If only I had wanted it,” he laughed bitterly, “I still don’t want it!  Not really, not out of any sense of charity. I’ll only ever want it because it would make me wealthy and respected again! I really am a monster,” with a burst of despair he swung his cane into the chaos of broken glass and wood, further splintering it. He fixed Anon with a bitter grin, “Don’t you find it disgusting?”

They remained silent, making no move to condemn him. They only looked at him softly and a little sadly, as though they could see something that moved them. Discomfited by their lack of shock Hyde’s mood shifted and an ugly look of wrath crossed his face, “Well I don’t apologize for it! I’m not sorry and I never will be! So go on and hate me for it!” he snarled.

At a loss for words Anon did the only thing they could think of in the moment, it was a foolish and irrational thing, born from some deep, unfathomable emotion that they could neither articulate nor justify.

They kissed him.

Edward froze, shocked by the display of tenderness. Bite their lips off, beat them, kill them! The staccato thrum of his heart seemed to urge, but he found when he raised his hands to Anon’s throat he did not have the desire to squeeze. He rested his hands at their neck, thumbs stroking their jaw as he returned the kiss. He had always liked kissing, even as Jekyll the sweetness of kisses had been a weakness he’d rarely resisted, even when he was too cowardly to take more from a prospective lover.

When Anon pulled their lips away he stared at them red-faced, “I ought to push you into that broken glass and knock some sense into you,” he said weakly, without conviction, “What on earth possessed you to do that?!”

Anon smiled shakily, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. You just���seem like you need a kiss every now and then,” they said, their hands remained fisted in Hyde’s coat.

Hyde drew them back down his eyes burning intensely from under the shadow of his dark hair, “Aye, and now that you’ve started I’m not going to let you stop. Not just yet…”

#Edward Hyde #Drabbles for Anon

[patsypsyop]

Okay this is more of a serious post (not really) because it talks about psychology. It's about how Roger from Lord of the Flies shows certain traits found in people with Conduct Disorder, and compares how he acts to the DSM-5

Below the cut is a long explanation

First off, I need to make two things clear

1) Conduct Disorder (CD) is different from Anti-Social Personality Disorder (ASPD). ASPD is for adults/older teens, CD is for children. This is because many traits of ASPD are common in children who have not met certain developmental milestones (lack of empathy, not being social, etc).

2) CD does not make someone a bad person. Roger commits terrible acts throughout the book, that is not why I think he possibly has CD. I simply want to explain certain actions/traits. CD (and ASPD) is caused by childhood trauma and can be corrected with counseling.

Keep in mind that I am not a professional!

Okay! I will be going through the DSM-5 and comparing what’s in there to quotes from LotF. If you believe I missed something, please put what it is and a quote in the comments, and I’ll add it!

“Aggression to people and animals”. Roger throws rocks at young children and killed Piggy. The hunting scenes could be viewed as killing out of necessity; they needed food.

“Roger stooped, picked up a stone, aimed, and threw it at Henry― threw it to miss.”

“High overhead, Roger, with a sense of delirious abandonment, leaned all his weight on the lever… The rock struck Piggy a glancing blow from chin to knee…”

“Often bullies, threatens, or intimidates others”. Roger throws rocks at littluns (see quote above) and says something intimidating to Robert.

“You couldn't stop me coming if I wanted."

“Often initiates physical fights”. No sign of this in the book.

“Has used a weapon that can cause serious physical harm to others (e.g., a bat, brick, broken bottle, knife, gun)”. Roger used the boulder with Piggy and the sharpened stick with Simon. Direct quotes either have been used above, or only imply Roger’s involvement.

“Has been physically cruel to people”. Roger is heavily implied to have tortured Samneric.

“You don't know Roger. He's a terror.”

“Has been physically cruel to animals”. The hunting scenes could be an example of this, but I believe they needed food. I won’t deny that they were cruel to the pig, but hunting itself is often cruel.

“Has stolen while confronting a victim (e.g., mugging, purse snatching, extortion, armed robbery)”. Stealing Piggy’s glasses was entirely Jack’s idea. Roger shows no sign of doing this in the book.

“Has forced someone into sexual activity” No sign of this in the book.

“Destruction of property”. Destroying the conch shell wasn’t something done on its own, it was more of a secondary thing compared to Piggy’s murder. (And it was a symbolic thing)

“Has deliberately engaged in fire setting with the intention of causing serious damage”. It is not clear in the book who’s idea it was to set the forest on fire. I assume it was Jack’s, although some belief it was Roger’s idea. Up for interpretation in the novel.

“Has deliberately destroyed others’ property (other than by fire setting)”. Same argument with the Piggy conch. Up for interpretation in the novel.

“Deceitfulness or theft”. No sign of this in the book.

“Has broken into someone else’s house, building, or car”. No sign of this in the book.

“Often lies to obtain goods or favors or to avoid obligations (i.e., “cons” others)”. No sign of this in the book.

“Has stolen items of nontrivial value without confronting a victim (e.g., shoplifting, but without breaking and entering; forgery)”. No sign of this in the book.

“Serious violations of rules.” Murder of Piggy (see quote above) could be this. Not entirely sure what it means, probably means breaking serious laws.

“Often stays out at night despite parental prohibitions, beginning before age 13 years”. No sign of this in the book.

“Has run away from home overnight at least twice while living in parental or parental surrogate home (or once without returning for a lengthy period)”. No sign of this in the book.

“Is often truant from school, beginning before age 13 years". No sign of this in the book.

"The disturbance in behavior causes clinically significant impairment in social, academic, or occupational functioning." Roger's school life is never brought up, nor is anyone's opinion of him before chapter 11.

"If the individual is age 18 years or older, criteria are not met for Antisocial Personality Disorder." Roger is under 13.

“Lack of remorse or guilt: Does not feel bad or guilty when he/she does something wrong (excluding remorse when expressed only when caught and/or facing punishment). The individual shows a general lack of concern about the negative consequences of his or her actions. For example, the individual is not remorseful after hurting someone or does not care about the consequences of breaking rules.” Roger felt no remorse about bullying littluns, unlike Maurice.

“Maurice still felt the unease of wrongdoing. At the back of his mind formed the uncertain outlines of an excuse. He muttered something about a swim and broke into a trot. Roger remained…”

The rest of the DSM (linked here) is meant for trained psychiatrists. I am unable to compare Roger to the end section, as I am untrained, and we are never told when Roger began to act this way.

Feel free to say if you think Roger would be diagnosed with CD in 2023, I just want to look at it from the book. To really label him, we would need to see more on how he acted pre-island and post-island

#im aware this is boring to everyone except me #lord of the flies #lotf #roger lotf #lotf roger #GOD this took me forever. im not rereading it so lemme know if i repeat anything or something

[anubisandco]

Chapter one: You're not a dog

Patrick Hockstetter x OC (Delilah Huggins)

Summary:

Patrick didn't know what she was, and He hated it. Delilah Huggins was something he couldn't figure out, He hated her. He hated the way she made his chest feel. Delilah didn't know a single thing about Patrick, nothing substantial at least. But she wanted to know him, everything about him.

Someone has to lose the game. The game that Patrick was very good at cheating at.

~~~

At first, it had bothered her, The heavy feeling of his eyes on her all the time. It took a while to realize that Patrick just liked to watch, his gaze was usually cold and distant, his dark brown eyes filled with nothing not even hatred. Just simply uncaring, But he watched her every move nonetheless. 

Reggie had warned her ahead of time but Delilah didn’t actually understand what he meant until she had met Patrick in the school parking lot. She saw him lurking around Reggie’s usual parking spot, He reminded her of a spider. Long, and gangly he had the same spooky feeling as well. She could feel his eyes the moment she climbed out of the Trans am, his empty smile greeted her. He flicked his lighter open and closed, open and closed, open and closed. 

He never said a word to her as they stood in the parking lot listening to Henry yell at any student passing by, she watched the crowd thin as people made their way inside the brick building and tried to ignore Patrick at the same time. 

She shivered when she felt him standing behind her, his breath warm on her neck competing with the summer breeze. Even after Reggie very aggressively told him to knock it off, Patrick walked her to her locker and then to class. He flirted with her the entire time, and she couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. 

As the weeks went by He’d climb through her window and watch as she lay on her floor finishing her assignments, he never once took off his dirty black boots, even when he lay on her white bedspread. Patrick would lay in the same spot anytime he came over, his hands behind his head and he’d stare until he got bored. 

After a while, he’d make a big deal about the silence and get up, she barely paid attention as he stepped over her in those dirty boots to her record player. The one her mom gave her for her birthday like three years ago, Delilah would, in turn, watch him as he dug through her music collection until he found something he didn’t hate, which was hard to do. 

She’d sit up at this point in the night and close her notebooks and smile as he made himself at home on her floor next to him. 

“ This one again?” Her voice was playful and quiet, His only answer was to pinch her thigh and close his eyes. 

She couldn’t even remember where she got this record, maybe from her parents' garage before she had moved to Derry, the classical music was heavy in the room, and the disk hadn’t had a case when she took it. Delilah couldn’t understand why Patrick liked this one so much, he picked it almost every time. 

The summer breeze was hot like her blowdryer as it came through her open window, the white lace curtains she’d hung up moved with it. He had a habit of leaving the window open whenever he came through it. Delilah complained every time but he’d smile at her and she’d forget why she hated it so much. 

“D’you ever get bored of this place?” He asked, in his usual Patrick way, Delilah wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to understand where his head was at. He was so back and forth, he’d say one thing and then the opposite the very next moment. 

“ What do you mean?” She opened her notebook again trying to pick up where she’d left off on her math homework, His back was against her bed. “ Like Derry or this house?” 

Patrick looked up at her poster-covered ceiling, he had read them all at least twelve times over by now, his eyes landed on the same one every time. The Alice in Wonderland poster she had pinned right above her pillows, the Cheshire cat sat lazily on a tree branch smiling down at helpless little Alice, the woods around them were dark and swirly. 

“ Either, both, anything.” 

“ No, not really it’s all new to me still.” Delilah shrugged as she erased a stray pencil mark, “ But New York was definitely better.” She said decidedly. Her parents were supposed to move down in January with her, but then plans changed and it had been March. March came and went and now they didn’t even bother to give her a month. 

She didn’t hate living with her Aunt and Reggie, but it never felt like home, it felt like a sleepover. You could never really get comfortable. 

He grabbed onto a stray lock of hair twirling it in his fingers, he pulled on it just a little bit not enough to hurt but she could feel it. 

“ You know the longer you’re here the less likely you are to leave.” He whispered, her eyes met his. Delilah had no reply to this, She knew all the rumors about Patrick. It was hard not to hear them when that’s all anyone at school could talk about, even Reggie had to tell her all about him. 

He’d never been mean to her, he’d never tried to hurt her. But listening to the stories she couldn’t help but let her mind wander that direction. This could have been a threat, but her heart was telling her it wasn’t. He wouldn’t. 

But he really would. 

“ I don’t believe you.” She said and went back to her homework,  one quick glance at her clock told her it was almost time for Patrick to slither back out of her window. She never told him to leave because he wouldn’t, you couldn’t tell Patrick to do anything when you did he took it as a challenge. But he always left around the same time every night, eleven thirty-five give or take. 

Delilah used to complain about that too, how tired she would be in the morning He’d laugh at her and continue to make himself comfortable, it became a part of her routine. Some nights he’d come and others he wouldn’t, She never asked where he was when he didn’t come over. It didn’t feel right to ask that sort of question, they weren’t together and it didn’t matter if they were anyway, he didn’t like to answer questions. 

For everyone knowing so much about him they really knew very little about who he was, Patrick was a mystery he wouldn’t let anyone solve. 

She was sure Reggie knew he came over by now, but he never said anything to her about it, after he had his conversation with her about how he felt about the whole situation Reggie said nothing more on the topic. He wasn’t her father and he knew that, sure he’d keep an eye on her because he knew what kind of guy Patrick was but he had no authority to tell her that she couldn’t see him. 

People at school had noticed right away how Patrick treated her, Delilah was his new person of interest and that meant she was off limits. 

He’d slither up next to her when the Trans am would pull into the school parking lot, his arm would find its way around her shoulders. Which must have been a sight in itself, Patrick was tall and thin like a toothpick, and Delilah was short and thick. Her mother used to describe her as a pear, it used to bother her until it didn’t anymore. She never said a word to him about the way he’d touch her, choosing the route of ignoring him, and maybe just maybe he’d get bored. 

Delilah after a while wasn’t sure if she wanted him to get bored, it was wrong he was one of her cousins' friends, and maybe a creep. But there was something so alluring about Patrick, like a black cat on Halloween. 

The only time they were alone was in her bedroom late at night, any other time it was a crowded hallway or with the boys. 

It was a chilly Monday morning Delilah stood by her open locker flipping through textbooks, her tights were slightly itchy and she had forgotten her coat. She already knew without looking at the clock that she’d be late for first period. 

“Delilah.” Patrick’s voice was thick as usual, the way he said her name instead of hello made her heart to a back flip in her chest. He never said good morning to her, never said hello. He’d start every conversation with her name, sometimes he’d drag it out other times he’d purr like a cat. 

She didn’t look up this time as she continued to flip through her work. 

“Morning Patrick.” 

“ You wore my favourite skirt.” 

She looked down at the little black skirt she wore, it was totally not up to the dress code sitting high on her thighs, which is why she wore the tights. It wasn’t anything special, something she’d owned for years never thinking about. When she met his gaze he was smiling at her, he leaned casually on the locker next to hers. 

“ I didn’t know.” She offered with a shrug, this was the game they played, Delilah would act as if she didn’t care when they both knew it was a lie. 

“ Makes your ass look nice.” He leaned closer to her, another thing she noticed quickly was just how little he cared about personal space. Delilah rolled her eyes closing her locker. She shoved her work into her backpack, when she held it out to him she didn’t expect for him to actually take it. But he did. 

“ Jeez Patrick you sure know how to romance a girl.” She scoffed brushing past him, her arm touching his chest as she went. She hadn’t made it two steps before he already caught up, his long legs making it impossible to outrun him. Patricks' arm found its usual place around her shoulders, his thick coat sleeve was rough against the back of her neck. 

They walked down the empty hall toward her first class of the day, she wasn’t sure of his schedule but he always seemed to be waiting for her after her classes no matter where or when they were.  

“Admit it, you like it.” He had her backpack over his other shoulder, “It turns you on.” 

“Don’t be gross.” 

“That’s like asking a dog to stop barking babe.” 

Delilah could do nothing but roll her eyes in that moment, unsure of what else to say to him. To be fair she never quite knew what to say to him, having a conversation with him was like taking a toddler to get shots at the doctor's office. Most of the time he'd dodge you or simply ignore you, other times it was impossible to get him to shut up. 

He mostly did the second one when Henry was around, he liked to get on his nerves. Nothing made Patrick happier than seeing Henry red like a tomato, yelling terrible words. 

She stopped at her classroom door and he quite literally dropped her bag, she winced at the sound of everything inside hitting the floor. 

He didn’t stop walking only turned around to face her as he continued on his way, Delilah knew he wasn’t going to whatever class he was supposed to be in right now. She was never really sure where Patrick went and she was certain she didn't wanna find out. 

“ I’ll see you after class Patrick.” She bent down to pick up her backpack, He smiled his toothy grin, his cold eyes locked on hers. 

“Delilah.” 

~~~

When the thin wooden door opened after the bell rang, she was greeted with the sight of Patrick leaning casually against the wall across from it, his long black coat was an ink stain on the drab cream wall behind him. 

Reggie had just got done hissing something in his ear by the time she reached them through the sea of people. Her cousin seemed tense, which was normal when he was around Patrick. 

Reggie was a tall kid for his age, he was thick too but unlike Delilah, his was mostly muscle from working on his car and often times his mom's too. He was by no means a scary kid though, the way he held himself told everyone he wasn’t really the threat they thought he was, sure he could kick ass when he needed to. Or wanted to for that matter. But he was always gonna be the last one to throw a punch, he hated fighting and always had. 

It was always a mystery to Delilah how he got mixed up with Henry and Vic, someone like him was meant to be the hero. 

Growing up Delilah had always been the one to get into fights in school, and Reggie would always be the one to bail her out. He was her best friend. 

“ What’s going on?” She asked cocking her head, she had to speak a little louder in the hallway with all the voices echoing around them. 

“ Your Rottweiler got out of its yard.” Patrick drawled crossing his arms over his chest but didn’t get off the wall, his eyes traced her body then flicked over to her cousin when he added, “ We all know just how much I love dogs.” 

Vic had made a joke a few days ago about Reggie being her guard dog of sorts, something Patrick clearly hasn’t forgotten. The warning he gave hit home as Reggie took a step back the frown still on his face. The rumor about the fridge and all the missing pets jumps to her mind. 

“He’s more of a retriever.” Delilah shrugged walking in the general direction of the lawn, not caring to be in the middle of their pissing match this time. The sound of Patrick laughing followed her. 

Reggie grumbled something to him before catching up to her. 

“ Mom’s gonna be gone tonight I invited Henry and Vic over.” He told her gently, and with a much different demeanor than he had moments ago. “ You don't have to stay.” Reggie really was all bark and no bite. She smiled at the thought. 

“ If you’re ordering Pizza I’ll stay.” She offered, in reality, she didn’t mind hanging around the boys, sure Henry wasn’t her favourite person in the world, and she was far from his. But all in all they weren’t too bad, unless you were one of the freshmen or literally anyone else. 

“ Deal, Vic’s gonna bring over some movies too.” 

~~~

“ What would I be?” 

The sound of Patrick's voice startled her, Delilah had been painting her fingers and toes in her room, the door was closed but the sound of the three boys downstairs could still be heard, and she dropped the brush. 

Her window had been closed but not locked, He was halfway in when he had spoken. For someone as tall as he was his silence was terrifying. 

Delilah was Screaming before she could process anything, but his hand covered her mouth before she could really make any noise.

“ No, Delilah.” He whispered he smelled like fire and something she couldn’t explain, his skin was softer than she thought it’d be. His hand left her face but didn’t go far, it rested on her bent knee, she’d been painting her toes when he scared her, and the nice pastel blue was now all over the carpet. 

 Her eyes were still wide, his face just inches from hers, he scanned her face waiting for an answer to his previous question. 

“ W-What?” 

“ What would I be, if Belch is a Retriever, what am I?” 

Oh. 

She hadn’t even thought about that since it had happened, she couldn’t help but wonder why it was so important to him. She just stared at him for a while, he barely even blinked. Patrick would wait all night if that’s what it took, he’d get his answer. 

Henry downstairs laughed very loudly at something Vic said causing Reggie to tell him to shut up, their movie could be heard in the silent room. The breeze caused her to shiver a little. He tilted his head to the right. 

“ You’re not a dog.” She offered quietly, “ You’re like a cat. Why?” her question would go unanswered, he broke their eye contact to pick up the bottle of nail polish he looked at it for a long moment. 

“ I like the blue.” 

“ Thanks.” 

He sat back away from her, not far his knee touched her leg still because he had to. He still wore the clothes he was in at school but his jacket was long gone, there was mud on his shoes and on the bottom of his pant legs. He’d been in the woods. 

Patrick set the small bottle back on the book she’d been using as a flat surface, So he was staying for a while then. Delilah picked up the brush and began to finish painting her toes, it was strange that she didn’t even really feel him there anymore, her body wasn’t on edge like it had been when he first started hanging around. 

In fact she sorta liked him being around, the move to Derry had been harder than she would have liked to admit to anyone, even Reggie. Patrick coming around and staying was one steady thing she didn’t know she’d have. 

She’d finished the first coat and was about to begin the second when he spoke. 

“You’re not a dog.” He paused and she stopped moving, the brush hovering over her pinky, “ Or a cat, I don’t know what you are and I don’t like it.” 

It wasn’t often that Patrick offered up things like that, he rarely said anything of substance, a gross joke or comment. Something disturbing or even just making fun of some of the younger kids at school. 

She looked at him through her lashes, afraid that if she’d make eye contact she’d realize she was dreaming. His already dark eyes were pitch black in the light of her lamp, She once had asked Reggie if Patrick was always a starer. He simply laughed and nodded as if it was some sort of joke she didn’t understand. 

Patrick was always the last one to break eye contact, like a contest of sorts. 

“ I’m sorry.” Delilah didn’t know what to say to him, most of the time she didn’t know what to say to him, he always took her words. 

“ Don’t” He stood up quickly startling her again, she put the brush back in the bottle and watched him as he moved back to the window, she was afraid he was leaving already, like she’d ruined it. 

Delilah was taken by surprise when he instead closed her window with a dull thud, cutting off the strangely cold breeze. She’d been freezing but she hadn’t said anything knowing he wouldn’t care, the tank top she wore to bed had done nothing against the Derry night air. Of course, he’d noticed her shivering, the goosebumps on her arms, it was strange for him to do something about it. 

She almost told him he could take his shoes off. Almost. 

“ I should go downstairs.” He turned back to her with his shit-eating grin, his mood taking a sudden turn after his almost serious conversation, “ Say hi to Belch.”

“ Patrick he’ll kill you if he sees you come from my room.” Delilah stands too, painting her nails long forgotten. 

His smile only widened as he pushed past her, his shoulder hitting hers on his way past her. Patrick opened her bedroom door and she could only watch as he stepped out into the hallway and looked around. 

“ C’mon Delilah.” He held out his hand for her, she looked from his open palm to his face. Just when she thought she was finally getting to know just who he was Patrick would throw a curve ball. She grabbed a jacket from her bed and set her hand in his, He held on tight as he marched down the stairs into the living room. 

Whatever joke Vic had been making about the shitty horror movie they had on died on his lips as he caught sight of Patrick and her on the stairs together. The soda can in his hand lowered from his mouth which hung open. 

Reggie turned around in his chair to see what he was watching. Delilah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him stand up so fast before. The paper plate with his slice of pizza fell to the floor with a wet thump. Even Henry was at a loss for words, his eyebrows melted into a frown easily. 

“ What the fuck?” Henry was the first one to speak. 

“ Delilah!” Reggie's voice was loud, she dropped Patrick's hand at the sound. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she also didn’t wanna make him mad, this was Reggie after all. She stepped around Patrick to stand between him and everyone else. Vic took a small drink of his soda eyes flicking between an absolutely irate Reggie and a grinning Patrick. 

“What is he doing here, When did he even get here?” Reggies fired off question after question, “ Why was he in your room?” He made his way closer. 

“I’ve been nice to her Reg.” Patrick’s voice was sickly sweet, using the nickname Delilah had given her cousin years ago.

“ Shut up Patrick!” Delilah threw over her shoulder, sometimes she hated him she really did. “Reggie, nothing happened he’s just weird, I didn’t invite him over, even if I did nothing was gonna happen.” She directed these words at her cousin, His eyes narrowed. 

“ Something could have happened.” 

“ Patrick.” Her voice was another warning, if he kept it up she’d kick his ass before Reggie even got the chance. 

“ Delilah you know how I feel about it.” Reggie wouldn’t even look at Patrick now, “ He’s a sicko.” 

“ Yeah, we’ve covered that. But I've discovered he’s very persistent when he wants to be.” She took a step closer to Reggie crossing her arms over her chest, Her voice got quieter her eyes jumped to Henry and Vic who watched quietly. She could tell Henry was waiting for a fight to break out ready to jump in, it didn’t matter that he didn’t care. Henry was always willing to throw hands. Vic watched with a more worried look on his face, he would be the one to try and de-escalate the situation if need be. 

“ Listen, Reggie, I’m smart I’d kick his ass if he tried anything I didn’t like. You know I can handle myself.” He watched her his shoulders dropped letting go of the tension just a little bit. 

She was right and he knew it, Delilah was strong and more than capable. Reggie always saw her as someone he had to take care of just like his mom, they were his two favourite people and the fact that someone like Patrick and weaseled his way into her life bothered him like nothing else. 

He’d seen how Patrick treated any of the girls he’d been with before, the list was long and it always ended with someone, always the girl getting hurt in some way or another. Reggie would be damned if he’d let it happen to his cousin. 

“ It’s not you, I’m worried about.” He watched Patrick over her head, the tall boy smiled and waved a little. He knew what he was doing, and Reggie wasn’t sure just how far he’d go with this thing of his. With a guy like him, no one knew where it’d end. 

Delilah smiled and shook her head. 

“ Can we all just sit down and finish this movie?” She asked looking to Vic for help, He nodded and sat back down turning to the tv that had previously been forgotten. “ You and I can talk later Reg.” She offered knowing she’d dodge the conversation for as long as possible. 

Whatever was going on with her and Patrick she wasn’t really ready to talk about, with anyone for that matter. 

She felt Patrick move to stand close behind her, his breath on her neck. 

#fanfiction #fanfic #patrick hockstetter #patrick hocksetter x reader #it 2017 #pennywise #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #the losers club #henry bowers #belch huggins #horror

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 9: ‘Pretty When She Cries’ 

Warnings in this chapter: Infidelity, cheating (Implied), slight emetophobia. 

Masterlist

---

You had slept in his bed that night. 

The bed was large enough to fit both of you and your two children. Thomas on one end, you on the other while Henry and Elizabeth laid in the middle. You had stirred in your sleep for what felt like hours, finding it harder and harder to have a full night’s rest while the baby continuously grew every passing day.  You slowly sat up in the bed, rubbing the fatigue from your eyes. The double-vision had eventually faded as you looked past your shoulder at the three sleeping figured behind you in the darkness of the night. You quietly remove the covers and slip out of the bed, tip-toeing our of the bedroom and barely leaving a crack in the door. You made your way through the halls, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. 

You remembered you had brought some left-over pastries from the bakery, so you decided to have a midnight snack after skipping dinner earlier that night due to the dreaded nausea that plagued you at random times of your day. You pick up the sweet from it’s tray and set it on a napkin. Hoisting yourself up on the counter as you smile, giddily making yourself comfortable before taking the first bite. Your eyes flutter shut at the sweet taste. You hadn’t had a need for sweets in months, but this moment was pure bliss. Once you had finished it, you wipe your fingers clean with the napkin before folding it and setting it on the counter beside you. You hop off of the counter, carefully and quietly make your way into the hall. 

Stopping short, just before you could reach the grand staircase. 

“So, what do you think of the new lady of the house?” A voice quietly asked as you kept yourself hidden upon their conversation. From the sounds of their voices, you figured it was the young maids.

“She seems very nice...She is nicer than the last one,” The second answered, distracted by their task at hand. The first one chortled. 

“Did you hear she’s pregnant with Mr.Shelbys baby?” 

“Hadn’t they just met?” The other slightly gasped. You furrowed your brows as you tried to listen closer. 

“Not sure...I wasn’t sure if she was pregnant at first or just fat,” One quietly laughed. 

“Shh, that’s not funny,”

“I’m not joking, Francis told me...Do you think her kids are from two different men?” She asked again. You quietly scoffed at the gossip. 

“Enough of that, you’re being cruel...You know, I think you’re just bitter since Mr. Shelby won’t give you the time of day,” 

There was silence, the ruffling of fabric, then a snicker. 

“He already has,” 

You bit your lip as you felt your stomach drop. The sweet you just ate threatening to come up already. 

“Come on, I’m just about done...” The other spoke softly with a hint of discomfort as they disappeared down the hallway. Once they were gone, you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You held onto the railing as you walked back up the stairs and into the nearest washroom. Spewing the pastry you just consumed into the porcelain bowl, hoping you weren’t too loud to wake anyone up. You flush the sick and wash out your mouth, the sweat and tears combining as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Lifting up your nightgown to look at your figure. Placing a hand over your forehead and heave an annoyed sigh before bringing your hands to your stomach, softly moving them to sit on your hips. 

You still looked light yourself, but you certainly didn’t feel like yourself. You recalled the unnatural feeling and ill at ease during your second pregnancy. Your ex-husbands cluelessness and dismissive attitude wasn’t in your favor either. Never reassuring you that he still loved you or simply saying you looked ‘fine’ when you certainly didn’t feel fine. All you wanted was to make him realize that you just wanted to feel beautiful. 

But this was new. This was different. You didn’t need anyone to make you feel anything. You were in fact beautiful, you just had to remind yourself. 

Taking one last look and with a shake of your head you pushed the nightgown down again. ‘fucking cunt’ you whispered to yourself before leaving the washroom and making your way back to the bedroom. Closing the large door behind you, looked at Thomas’ sleeping figure. Somehow feeling more disgusted with him. The different scenarios ran through your mind at a mile a minute. You laid between Henry and Thomas, creating a barrier as you cuddled into your children, giving yourself some space between yourself and Thomas before attempting to sleep shortly after your body hit the soft mattress. 

That feeling of dread had carried onto the next day. Taking your kids to school, holding their bags as you walked them to the front entrance of the school building.

"Here," you said as you handed them their book bags. "I will see you next week, behave for your father okay? Maybe even ask him to do something fun this weekend," You suggested as Henry nodded quickly along with you.

"Bye, mum," He said happily before running inside. Elizabeth looks at Henry then up at you, reaching for your hands to hold it in her small one.

"Get some sleep mum," She said, her eyes squinting slightly from the bright morning sun as she pats your hand with hers. 

"I will love…I'll see you next week," You nodded before giving her hand a tight squeeze and sending her inside.

That day at the bakery was slow. Something you experienced every year when the weather started to warm up. You decided to close up early and go shopping. New records, tea cups for the bakery, and more equipment to decorate cakes and such. As you carried the supplies out of the Shelby company car that picked you up, you spotted a woman. A tall woman with short dark hair and pale skin. You looked at her, puzzled as she had her back towards you, smoking a cigarette and fidgeting impatiently as she stood at the entry way.

You had cleared your throat, making your presence known. You catch her attention and she turns around, getting a better look at her face. The intimidating look on her hard features was the first thing you noticed. 

"Hello…can I help you?" You asked, the driver coming up beside you and offering to take your bags inside, 'Oh thank you' You smiled before turning to the woman again.

"Is Tommy here?" She asked. You cocked your head a little.

"Why?" You asked suspiciously. She took a few steps down the stairs of the entrance, getting a little closer to you.

"I just wanted to talk to him I-" she said, holding her cigarette in her fingers, her eyes then scan your body and stop at your stomach.

"How do you know him?" Her eyes went back to your own at your question, her seemingly calm brows had faltered.

"I work for him…we're friends," The mysterious woman said. "I also wanted to give him some of his stuff back," She held up a bag. You wearily took it, not bothering to look inside and keeping your eyes on her.

"Right…" You nod your head hesitantly, your eyes just as sharp as hers.

"You must be (Y/n)," Her hands shook a bit and her jaw clenched as she held the cigarette between her fingers up to her lips. 

"I'm sorry I-"

"He left me for you…" She finally admitted. You broke eye contact with her to look off to the side, not wanting to continue the awkward exchange any further with her.

“Things were going well, you know,” She continued, her voice shaking a bit. “Really well actually, and one day he tells me to move out because he got a poor whore pregnant, and that he couldn’t see me anymore,”  She tried to keep her composer, the emotions she felt after finally coming face to face with the other woman. Her eyes were wide and shaken with anger and regret as they glazes with tears. You blink once, not letting your expression change as you nod silently. You understood why she was so upset, you couldn’t blame her. 

“He described you differently to me…said you were a lonely mess with two kids…he said he wasn’t the least bit attracted to you,” She spat. You wore a smug smile on your face and nodded along.

“He said all of that?” You chuckled.

“He said he was doing it for the baby's sake, but you know Tommy…I told him he couldn’t sacrifice his life for someone he’s not in love with,”

“Oh surely not for someone you’re not in love with,” You repeated sarcastically.

“Who knows really,” She shrugged as she waved her cigarette around a bit. “That’s Tommy, right?” She feigned a smile, a hint of snide as she crinkled her nose.

“He would say anything to get out of trouble,” She nodded, taking a puff from the half-gone cigarette. “I’m sure you know what he’s like,”

“I don’t really…I obviously don’t know him like you do but you’ve made your point,” You raised your brows a bit to hide the gut wrenching feeling inside.

“Just make sure he gets his things,” She said before flicking the cigarette to the gravel and descending down the steps and you watch her leave. You couldn’t blame her for how she was feeling or for the harsh words she spoke. But you could blame him for keeping this from you. If it was one thing you hated about the men in Birmingham was that almost all of them have had shameless affairs and lie to the women in their lives.

Once you were inside, you looked through the contents of the bag. A white shirt, a few pieces of jewelry, an old cigarette case, and a gun holster. You shake your head repeatedly, the tears already spilling down your cheeks and onto your dress like rain. You were angry, sad, betrayed. You blame yourself for being so naïve to be with someone like him. To think you could trust someone like him. You hated how you believed his words, his touch, the nice things he does for you and your children…it was all fake. Deep down you knew this was going to be the case, but you never wanted it to come to this. 

After contemplating on what to do next, you packed what little you had at his home. Some of your clothes and your kids' clothes that invaded the drawers of the dresser in his room. You somehow managed to pack it all into two cases, leaving the gifts and dresses he had given you. If you were going to leave him, you planned on leaving him completely. You didn’t want any traces of him left.

Just when you thought you could leave undetected, his car had already pulled into the driveway as you were setting your things in the trunk of yours.

“(Y/n)…(Y/n)!” He called as he took fast steps to approach you. Closing the trunk you turned to him, your cheeks, nose, and corners of your eyes were red and raw from crying so much. You had a stern expression on your face as you stood with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What are you doing?” He asked, attempting to place his hands on your cheeks. The sight of you flinching from his touch caused him to exhale heavily before slowly putting his hands down by his sides.

“Your friend stopped by,” You told him. He looked at you in confusion. “You left some things at her house,” You explained. It was like it clicked in his head which “friend” you were talking about. He sighs and runs a hand over his forehead, looking up at the sky a bit before returning his blue eyes back to you.

“Listen- (Y/n) listen to me…nothing happened,” You shook your head.

“I don’t know that I believe you, I heard what the maids said, I know what you had said about me to her,” You began to choke up as you tried to look away from him. You couldn’t stand looking at him anymore.

“Sweetheart, I have been faithful to you completely, ever since we made the decision,” He told you, under other circumstances you would think his words were reassuring but now you couldn’t help but feel like he was lying.

“Thomas I don’t know what’s true or what’s made up,” You glared at him. “Be honest with me…right now that’s all I ask of you or else I’m leaving,” You threaten. His lips parted as he stared at you. He sighs heavily, turning away to wipe his fingers over his lips. He then steps in front of you again, visibly less tense than before. 

“She came to the office earlier to speak to my aunt Polly and she came to talk to me, all I did was ask for my things back,” He explained. You stayed silent and finally gazed up at him.

“I…I just don’t think I can trust you right now,” You whispered.

“So that’s it eh?” He threw his hands up in frustration as he slightly shook his head. 

“Yeah…Say goodbye,” You whispered, you couldn’t spare another second speaking to him. Your head and heart ached and your eyes burned from the tears.

“No, (Y/n), I won’t,” He held your face in his hands. You grimaced at him, trying not to cry even more than you already did. With your heart beating rapidly and your stomach in knots, you look at each other. A glimpse of hope in his eyes before you moved his hands away from your cheeks.

“Goodbye, Thomas,” You uttered the words as you looked away and turned to the back seat of the car. And with that, you were leaving Arrow house. 

Back at your home, you thanked the driver one last time before heading inside. The usual comfort and warmth was now vacant and cold. Sitting on the couch that went unused for the time you were gone, you stopped yourself from crying but the sadness was still there. You wanted nothing more than to just hug and kiss your kids to fill that void. You had changed into something more comfortable and warm before calling a cab to take you to the place you had been avoiding all these years.

London.

---

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[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

Day Sixteen

                Haytham Kenway would forever come to hate the day before his son Desmond’s birthday. He had been in the area, attempting to perhaps work with William Miles, to give the modern assassins an edge over the modern templars. It is why Haytham did not come alone. His father Edward Kenway was present along with Charles Henry Lee, Jeremiah Scudder, Nicholas Biddle, Christopher Gist, Jack Weeks, Shay Cormac, Matthew Davenport, and Victor Wolcott. The nine had their orders to remain civil with the assassins despite the tension. Everyone of the nine, except Lee, liked Desmond who was very respectful to them despite them being Templars. It seemed as if the boy realized peace between their factions would be better than no peace. However, as much as they tried, William’s actions would prove to them that he was unworthy of their aid and cooperation.

                Adéwalé had been the first to alert them that evening that William had gone nuts over the fact that Desmond simply held a different view than him. Haytham, despite his growing anger, calmly asked.

“Come again?”

“Mentor Miles was telling Desmond that he should always be wry of his enemies and those he calls allies. There is always someone looking to stab you in the back. Desmond retorted ‘what we even can’t trust your friends?’ Mentor Miles replied ‘Assassins can not have friends. It is a weakness. Family is a weakness.’ He then procced to trash Altair in front of Desmond, who did not take it well and called him a conspiracy freak.”

                Haytham’s eye twitched. He knew William was very temperamental. Without another word the ten templars, along with Adéwalé dashed off to the barren dirt ring the assassins used as their training arena. Adéwalé grew up a slave, so he’d seen worse than poor when it came to conditions, and this was somehow worse than that even. Never mind the fact that the sight that had met them was degusting. William Miles was atop Desmond, who was bleeding from a deep gash on his face, pulling his non-dominant arm behind his back as a means of control, looking for an apology to the sleight of being called a conspiracy freak, and that Desmond dared to have any opinion. Let alone suggest that Assassins should have friends and family. He’d tare the arm from it’s socket if he had to. Yet he did not see a very angry Haytham charge at him.

                That fight had been decidedly one sided. However, Desmond was in severe pain. Half his body felt numb while the other half screamed in agony. The sharp, burning sensation was all he could focus on. Panic slowly took over as, for a moment, a way out of this pain began to seem more and more unrealistic. The road ahead was a tough one and right now he wasn’t sure whether he were willing to walk it, let alone whether he was able. He was shocked the moment when Edward Kenway picked him up and rallied the other eight around him saying.

“Jeremiah Scudder, Nicholas Biddle, Matthew Davenport, and Victor Wolcott with me. The rest of you assist Haytham.”

“Yes sir.”

                They had all said. Jeremiah Scudder was pretty much the order’s equivalent to a Rafiq or Dai in the assassin brotherhood. A spy master who used his business as a merchant as a front that often funded money into the order. He was German and proud of it, often getting along with Edward with their parchment for strong drink. He however detests infamous Germans like Adolf Hitler and their narrow views on the world. Nicholas Biddle, is a competent sailor who recently earned the honor to captain the restored Jackdaw. Something he takes very seriously because he knows from his own experience what it is like to own a formidable ship. American he also gets along with Edward, since the man entrusted his first baby to him. Matthew Davenport is cold and calculating, he serves in his role fiercely, and is extremely loyal to his men, fighting with equal skill to that of his fine strategizing. He stands firm and strong eyeing the son of the Grandmaster in the arms of his grandfather, twitching in pain, struggling to keep from crying out in pain. Matthew with a bit of fatherly instinct leaking in encouraged.

“Let it out lad. Pain is natural, so is the reaction and want to scream and cry. It feels good sometimes too.”

                Desmond looked at him and only whimpered. Adewale looked from the boy to Matthew and said.

“That maybe the best you get out of him. He’s broken spiritually.”

“Understood.”

Matthew said. That left Victor Wolcott, a man after Garnier de Naplouse’s own heart who like the mad French Crusader was infamous for his experiments. That being said though he did not do those things on his fellow templars. And he was gentle in quickly getting an idea of what needed to be done to help Desmond recover. They got to their vehicle, a van, and got in and drove off with Desmond being tended to in the back. It took them roughly three days to reach the Chateau that Haytham Kenway owned and used as both a home and the base of their Templar activities. Once they had arrived, Edward carried Desmond inside, where Tessa was waiting with medical supplies. She and Victor worked together to clean up and bandage any wounds on the poor now sixteen year old boy’s body. Edward sat up with his sleeping grandson to ensure someone was there should the boy wake. He’d done it when Haytham had been sick in the past and now he would again. He turned his head only when Haytham, accompanied by Connor, surprisingly, walked in. Haytham smiled softly, a bruise clear on his face from a lucky shot from William that, from the bruising on Connor’s nucleus, sent Connor into a fury that the goal mentor dared lay a hand on his father. Haytham spoke softly.

“Thank you, father, for staying with Desmond.”

“You are welcome son. He was in shock most of the way here. When he was stabilized, he passed out and has been out since.”

“For the best, I suppose. It will allow his body time to heal.”

                There was silent agreement as Haytham took over, Edward went to bed, but not before acknowledging his older grandson. Connor walked with Edward to ensure his grandfather didn’t hurt himself on the way to bed. Connor then set to stalk the halls to ensure no one dared bother these men whom he’d come to view as part of his strange family.

#assassin's creed #writing #desmond miles #assassins creed rogue #change the course #haytham kenway #edward kenway #other templars #william miles #adewale

[affectionatelyrs]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thank you to @anincompletelist @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @littlemisskittentoes @rockyroadkylers @songliili and @xthelastknownsurvivorx for the tags

*Taps mic* is this thing on? Yeah? Great. Allow me to be somewhat sappy for a moment then.

I started writing in August of this year. As in, I haven't written fic/majorly creatively ever before this, and it's something that I never thought I would do. Until I did. And my goodness... I'm so insanely grateful that I decided to start. Writing has given me so much purpose - It's something I genuinely adore; it makes me incredibly happy that I get to share my words with all of y'all, and the people I've met have been so incredibly lovely. So, without further ado, here's what I've written in 2023! :)

January through July

Nothing, I was just an avid reader

August

Far too Enamored to be Content Now | M | 2k | One Shot

"You've been rather quiet all evening, H," Alex muses, trailing one long finger up the expanse of Henry's neck, higher, higher, high, until it lingers over his bottom lip. Taps it with the pad a few times. "Why don't you use that pretty mouth of yours to tell me what you want then, hmm?" Alex is expecting Henry's lips to pucker, their typical automatic response to this action. What he is not expecting, however, is the way Henry's lips slightly part before taking his finger slowly into his mouth and sucking, never once breaking eye-contact. - Henry is bloody starving.

You Came Out of Nowhere (And You Cut through All the Noise) | E | 10.9k | One Shot (with a bonus chapter)

Alex starts to feel worse about how he reacted to the man earlier — he’s usually all bark and no bite, but how is the bartender supposed to know that? Alex can be snarky, but he’s never cruel. Allowing his lips to quirk up into a small smile, he replies “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you, really.” “Well,” he says with a smirk, “in the event that you are lying to me simply to placate our earlier interaction, my shift ends in 15 minutes. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stick around to chat with a perfect stranger?” Alex’s brain stutters for a moment at his facade being so transparent that it's all he can do to stutter out a “Yeah—um, yeah. Okay, sure.” Maybe he also gets stuck on the words perfect stranger, and the immediate thought of mmmm, perfect indeed that pops up in his brain as a result. He chooses to ignore that as well. - Or, Alex is feeling insecure after a bad date - Henry shows him that he doesn't have to be

September

All of This Silence and Patience (Pining and Anticipation) | T | 5.1k | One Shot

“I didn’t know that you were—” he cuts himself off, sliding a hand over his face. “I, um. Shit, sorry. I just meant, uh… Christ—” Alex saves Henry some breath by cutting him off. “Bi? Sure am.” “Since when?” Is Henry’s only response. Apparently, being in dangerously close proximity to pretty boys makes him a bit dim. Whatever. He’ll have time to reflect on this and feel utterly mortified later. Alex does the following in slow succession: smirks, cocks an eyebrow, looks Henry up and down once, and shrugs a shoulder. “I dunno. Suppose that’s a bit hard to pin down, sweetheart.” - Or, Alex (flirty) and Henry (flustered) are both hiding in a closet at a party for different reasons

Baby, You're Gonna Lose Your Own Game | E | 4k | One Shot

Alex thinks he understands why people get stupid, impulsive tattoos like their ex’s name now if the sudden urge to etch the word darling onto his hip in permanent ink is anything to go by. So, yeah, Alex supposes. Henry may still be maddening, but his mouth? His voice? Maybe it was always hot, actually, and the irritation he previously felt was just thinly veiled complete and utter attraction. That would check out. Hate has always been a multifaceted word, after all. - Or, Alex decides that he wants to fuck the British out of Henry while watching him speak at a gala

October

King of My Heart | E | 8.5k | One Shot

Alex, as always, is utterly captivating. He accepts his crown with grace and a crooked grin; it’s a duality that only he can pull off. Alex’s megawatt smile is brighter than the hundreds of multicolored shards of light reflecting off the mirrorball in the center of the room. Henry knows that Alex looks good on stage, he knows that Alex knows that he looks good on stage, and apparently, everyone else knows it as well. Henry thinks he sees a girl faint at the sight out of the corner of his eye. And yet, no one knows about Alex and him. Everyone in the crowd wants Alex, but it’s a losing battle — Henry already won that fight a couple of weeks ago. - Or, When Alex wins Prom King, Henry sneaks him away for a moment alone and realizes that his feelings may run deeper than their clandestine hookups suggest

Help Me Hold On to You | T | 3.2k | One Shot

“I can’t do this all the time, Alex,” Henry huffs out, arms crossed from the opposite end of the couch. “I’ve been more than happy to help, and I’ve been doing so as much as I can, but we need to talk about it. It’s been…a lot for me.” Too much. Henry doesn’t say it directly, but it’s the undercurrent of his words. Two words that Alex has heard many times in his life, over and over again until they became permanently pressed into his eyelids like a brand, reminding him of his state of being every time he so much as blinks. - Or, Henry isn't always able to give Alex the help he needs, which sends Alex into a spiral, but they'll always find a way to work things out together

November

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess | E | 8.6k | One Shot

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

December

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What’s on My Mind) | E | 11.3k | Two Shot

Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?” But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except— Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with. Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand. - Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

Coming Soon

Double shot - my first ever multichap! :) Featuring sexting, falling in love in a coffee shop, and learning a lot about oneself - I'm incredibly excited for this one

Walk and Talk - a long one shot - College AU, irl epistolary, the literal act of walking and talking out of class and getting to know someone - this has been in the works for months

Henry is a painting (untitled) - Magical realism - Alex has a painting of a prince in his bedroom and one day it talks - a series of their conversations at night time in Alex's room, introspection, discussions of mental health, and falling in love

A secret birthday fic for @happiness-of-the-pursuit

A valentines day fic - Magical realism, Henry can see other people's future love lives and sets up shop on campus - Alex visits one day and Henry see's something he's never been able to see in his visions... himself

Coming... Eventually

Soulmate AU, beach at night, 5+1 love confession through non-verbal cues, companion fic to AOTSAP, and more

THANK U SO MUCH TO EVERYONE AGAIN. I genuinely couldn't do this without you. Fic and RWRB and all of y'all mean so fucking much to me. Thank you for an amazing year, and I'm so excited for what's to come

Tagging other ppl and literally anyone whose fics have ever inspired me bc y'all are so important - @kiwiana-writes @inexplicablymine @read-and-write- @clottedcreamfudge @everwitch-magiks @smc-27 @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged @tintagel-or-cockleshells @iboatedhere @indomitable-love @orchidscript @onward--upward @sparklepocalypse @dumbpeachjuice @dustratcentral @dustratcentral @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @leaves-of-laurelin @lizzie-bennetdarcy @cultofsappho @cricketnationrise @nocoastposts @myheartalivewrites @matherines and @rmd-writes

#affectionatelyrs #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #my fics #about me #tag game #writing roundup #2023 writing roundup

[justjams2003]

Masterlist

Steve Abnesti:

Pretty Mouth: Summary: While on holiday you’re invited on a yacht with some very rich people. Steve catches your eyes and with the help of some N-40 you two are immediately attached to each other.

Pretty Mouth Pt2

Nightmares

All for you: Summary: Jeff got to use N-40 with Y/N. Afterwards he can't help but want to do so once more. When he mentions so to Steve, Steve gets furious. Dosing him with Darkenfloxx and calling Y/N to watch.

Distractions: Summary: After Jeff discovers Steve’s plans, Steve panicks and Y/N is forced to pilot them to safety.

Free Fridays: Summary: There are many things you miss about the outside world. And after an incident with Rogan, Steve makes sure do get Y/N out of the Spiderhead

New boy:  It's smut, except you're cute and tiny

Prove it: Steve corrupts an innocent reader. 

Blossoms-PotO Fic

Summary: A young author travels away from her family to The Opera she has heard so much about. She lost and confused and yet still seems to get a job there as a cleaner. Yet when she meets a mysterious man there, everything changes. Her mind is entirely consumed, but will she allow her burning need for him consume her life as well? 

The Mandolorian

Hold Still: Summary: During a long flight, Y/N gets bored. While Din tries to reward Y/N for their good behaviour so far, they get interrupted. Now Din has to get them out of harms way, all while inside Y/N.

Little onesies: While on your way to Tatoine Din gets you ready

Salvaging: Din decided you are far to pregnant to help with his bounties, but he does let you watch.

Henry Cavill

New Thrill: Summary: Being annoyed with all the gaming Henry’s been done recently, you act out wanting for attention. He makes sure to give it to you, all with his dear friend on the phone.

The inevitable: Henry helps you through your medical problems

Dirty: You’d come to set to bring Henry his lunch, only to find him rolling around in the mud. You can’t help but take laugh and take a video.

Kal’s Sixth Sense: Henry notices that Kal has been acting weird lately. Following you around everywhere. When those two pink lines shows up on the pregnancy test, things makes sense.

Treat yourself: You plan on going to the shop, grabbing some money from Henry’s wallet to see how he reacts.

Surprise: You and the interviewer make plans to surprise Henry while on his busy press tour.

Between two Gods: In a world with Alpha, Betas and Omegas, you never thought you'd find your true mate. But you did, but it turns out to be mates. And not just any two Alphas, the strongest two Alphas on earth (and some galaxies.) Come join us as you tackle the life of being mates to thor Odinson and Superman.

Cuddles for breakfast: You and your daughter surprise Henry for father’s day.

Thor Odinson:

Snippit: (Drabble taken from wip) Thor always seems to know where is his lover, Star is. His mother finds it simply adorable how close they are.

Snippit 2: (Drabble taken from wip) Thor takes Star (oc) to a clearing in the forest with a lake. Where he worships her body and declares his love.

Thundering return: (dark!thor x slave!reader) Thor comes home lustful after a heavy battle in need for a release. (Basically just smut) 

Galaxy of Stars: The Light Elves are told to live forever. Avoiding age for millennia, becoming over 5000 years old before growing feeble and fragile. And so at the age of 600, Star lived when Thor was born. Not that it mattered much, she herself was still considered incredibly young. A small thing, still a babe.

  You’d expect Star to live a ravishing life. Marrying another royal, growing a family and a kingdom. Being a beautiful, power princess you would believe nothing else to happen.  Yet, Star lived a truly tragic life. Living through one painful experience to the next. She left an impact on everyone she met and somehow still died a horrific death.  

Perhaps, however, I am telling you too much? Just maybe you would like to find this out all on your own. Through the power of storytelling, I could just convince you that her life wasn’t as painful as it truly is. But I do not wish to undermine the pain she went through. As she lived it, so will you. 

So many allergies: During a party, you become small and eat something you shouldn’t and have an allergic reaction. Thor has to come in and save the day

Between two Gods: In a world with Alpha, Betas and Omegas, you never thought you'd find your true mate. But you did, but it turns out to be mates. And not just any two Alphas, the strongest two Alphas on earth (and some galaxies.) Come join us as you tackle the life of being mates to thor Odinson and Superman.

Sweet Savagery: All your life, Thor's blue eyes have haunted you. You believed you outran him, but now all your hopes come tumbling down.

Lewis Hamilton:

The final push: You and Lewis have been friends (turned lovers) since forever. When he’s struggling on his race he asks to talk to you on the radio. Believing you to be the only thing that could help him.

Matchmaker: Seb is the one who set you and Lewis up, it’s only sensible you honour him somehow.

Fast Pace: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Le Chiffre:

I’ll take care of you: Your gambling father actually won a poker match against Le Chiffre himself. In a bout of anger, Le Chiffre decides to take revenge

Captain Rochefort

The Captain: When Captain Rochefort enters the tavern you work at, he seems to take a liking to you.

#masterlist #Steve Abnesti #Phantom of the Opera #the mandalorian #henry cavill #Thor Odinson #lewis hamilton #mads mikkleson #Le Chiffre #captain rochefort #superman

[sushywritez]

Lockeroom | Cop!Steve x Fem!Reader |

Notes: This is a gift for my bestie @rollergirlworld , happy birthday to Steve’s wife! We both love a sweaty and dom, Steve. I wanted to try and do something new plot wise and environmentally unique, plus I know this will really be fun to write. So rollergirl and others please enjoy.

“Go, Steve!” You clap your palms together cheering loudly with the other wives and their partners, but Steve, he was all yours. Admits the mess of bodies you find his hazel eyes, cramped by strands of his damp chestnut locks. You were his little cheerleader and he fed off it.

He sends a wink your way and returns his full focus back to the game, white sneakers screeching against the court as the team works to get the ball. Occasionally him and some of the other officers got together to play a few rounds of ball and would somehow convince you to tag along. However, it didn’t take much convincing when his head was between your thighs, plus the sight of him like this was enticing.

The way his muscles tensed beneath the grey fabric of his tee drove you something akin to horny. A need was deeply present in between your legs. Reminiscent of the earlier events of the day. “Steve is something isn’t he?” Martha breathes — the wife to the chief — eyes him up. A tinge of jealous coils within your gut and you huff.

“Sure is, Martha.” You reply, shifting in your spot on the bleachers. She was a nosy twit and always had it out for your fiancé because Henry couldn’t put it out. She scoffs and turns her nose upward, turning her gaze away from you. Steve was simply all yours and it taken time to get where you were now. Hours went by until the game was called and the guys rushed to the showers. One by one the other men went, followed by their wives chasing them out the door, until you were alone.

No sign of your Steve. Odd. You gathered your things and rushed into the locker room calling out for your partner, “Stevie?” You push the door upon with your hip, shoving the handle down and entering the large back room. Another call out for his name is met with a small grunt and you rush around the corner towards the lockers, heels clacking noisily against linoleum tiles. Steve was seated on one of the benches, still clad in his gym shorts, his shirt discarded and a towel slung loosely over his shoulder.

Your shoulders slump in relief, “There you are. I thought maybe you died back here.” There was a lightheartedness to the tone, but Steve didn’t respond. You slowly lower down to your knees before him palms splaying out over his cheeks, “Stevie?”

He snaps out of his daze and his hazel eyes meet with yours, “I heard from Chief White, you had a little spat with his wife. Care to explain your attitude?”

Your aghast and a little embarrassed. She was always such a tattle and a bit prudish, “She was making comments and staring you down, Steve. I didn’t like it.”

“But I’ve warned you about that attitude, baby. Many times.” His eyes are focused on you now, jaw hardened beneath your hands. Calloused fingers brush over your own hands and push them down and away. “I think you need to learn a lesson.” He pats his thigh and your throat grow drys, gulping down your fear and standing back to your full height.

Awkwardly shifting on your feet, before sinking stomach down over his lap, hands gripping onto his forearm. His other hand helps steady your bottom, heels providing an extra support, but not comfortably. “Count every single one. We’ll start with ten, then see how well your bruised ass helps get that attitude in check.” He works your skirt up over your ass and admires the choice of undergarments.

You knew what was coming next and it thrilled you to no end, but at the same time it would be painful.

They always said that love hurts, and knows no bounds.

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve x female reader #steve x fem!reader smut #cop!steve #steve stranger things #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #x reader smut #steve harrington smut #cop!steve smut #cop!steve x reader smut #cop!steve x fem!reader