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[maidragoste]

Chapter Three: He ruined it

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Two

A/N: I'm happy to bring you a new chapter of this series, sorry for the delay in publishing and I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments or reblogs. Thank you for reading 🥰🥰💖💖

My inbox is open so I’m always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions 🤭💕

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes

The elevator ride takes less than a minute since the training rooms are below the floor of your floor, but Jacaerys could still feel the tension in the air. He doesn't know if it's because you're nervous like him about seeing who they'll have to face in a few days or if, like him, you're upset because Larys told you two to spend all your time in public close to each other. Jace doesn't understand the reason behind his uncle's instructions, first, he made you two hold hands at the parade and now it seemed as if he wanted you to become friends while training. Jace doesn't like this, he doesn't want to get attached to you. That would only make things more difficult in the arena, but when he complained his uncle reminded him that he had already promised that he would do whatever he told him. He had to do it if he wanted to return home to Lucerys and Joffrey.

When they both get out of the elevator they find a giant gym full of weapons and obstacle courses. It's not even ten o'clock, yet you two are the last to arrive. The rest of the tributes are gathered in a tense circle, each one has a piece of cloth attached to their shirt with the number of their respective district. While they give his number, Jacaerys in a quick assessment realizes that you two are the only ones who are dressed alike. Was it another way to appear like a united front to others?

Once you and Jacaerys join the circle the head trainer steps forward and introduces herself as Atala and then begins to explain the training schedule, how each position has an expert in the skill in question, that some positions teach tactics survival and other fighting techniques. She also warns that it is prohibited to perform combat exercises with another tribute and that if someone wants to practice with a partner, there are assistants.

“We don't have to be together all the time if you don't want to,” you whispered to him, once Atala finished reading the list of skills and gave them the freedom to start training.

“But Larys said”

“Larys isn't here,” you interrupted, making him frown. “He's not going to know if we don't follow what he tells us one hundred percent.”

“If you don't want to train with me just say it” he snapped, feeling annoyed although it made no sense because he should be happy that you don't want to train with him either after all Jacaerys wanted to avoid spending as much time with you as possible.

“I'm not the one who complained at breakfast,” you reminded him, making him blush and feel ashamed of himself for his attitude. If he weren't so impulsive he would have at least waited for you to go to your room before complaining to his uncle.

“I'm sorry about that,” he apologized, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay,” you shrugged, downplaying it, but even so, your district partner still felt like a fool because of his attitude. “Where do you want to start?”

“Let's tie some knots,” Jacaerys responded, thinking that his uncle had said not to attract attention so he was forbidden to take a bow at least until the private session with the gamemakers. Besides, Jace had no desire to be around the professional tributes, who had gone straight to the weapons that looked more deadly and handled them without difficulty, nor the trembling tributes who received their first class of knives or axes.

The stall is empty so the coach seems excited when the two approach. When he realizes that Jacaerys knows something about traps, he teaches them how to make a simple trap that would leave another tribute hanging from a tree by their leg. They practice for an hour until they both master the technique well and then move on to the camouflage station. Jacaerys notices that you seem more excited in this position as you mix mud, clay, and berry juice on your skin. It also seems easy for you to braid costumes out of vines and leaves. The coach for this position is excited about your work.

"I make the cakes" you blurt out of nowhere.

"The cakes?" He had been concentrating on watching Royce Baratheon swing a mace directly into the chest of a mannequin.

"Those from the bakery. I make the decorations"

Jacaerys remembers those cakes, which are on display in the shop window, with flowers and other pretty designs on the icing. Before he went to live with Uncle Larys he was never able to eat one of those but since they lived with him there was always cake for special occasions like birthdays and New Year's. Every time they went to buy the cake Joffrey and Lucerys always argued about which one looked the best before choosing which one to take. If he came home he didn't think he would be able to accompany them back to the bakery. He couldn't see your father and brothers in the face again. Nor could he see the disappointment in his brothers' eyes when they saw that the cakes were no longer as pretty as before.

"They're cute, but you won't be able to glaze someone to death," he hadn't meant to sound so scathing but thinking about your death, your family, and his siblings put him in a bad mood.

"You never know what might be in the arena what if…?"

"Let's continue with another position" he interrupts you, he wasn't in the mood for some joke.

"Okay, go ahead with whatever you want, I'll stay here a little longer. I'll catch up with you later" you responded.

The smile on your face had disappeared and Jacaerys felt a tightness in his stomach but he decided to ignore it, he just nodded and went to the fire-making station. He is so focused on the coach's instructions and getting the technique right that he doesn't even realize that he has spent so much time there until they announce that it is time for lunch. Jacaerys looks at you with the idea of telling you to have lunch together. He frowns when he sees that you are no longer alone but are talking to Jason Mallister, the thirteen-year-old boy from District 4. What were you doing? Larys said not to attract attention and you found yourself talking to one of the professional tributes, of course, that would attract attention.

Annoyed, Jacaerys went to the carts that had been brought with food and began to serve himself and then sat alone at one of the tables. Professional tributes gathered around a table. They were loud, unlike the rest they seemed carefree, as if they were not afraid.

A few minutes later you sit next to him. Jacaerys can't hold his curiosity for long so he asks you.

“Why were you talking to him?”

“Stop frowning, we're supposed to be friends,” you scold him in a whisper and he struggles to put on a friendlier face. “He reminds me of Joffrey,” you admit.

“My brother is nothing like him,” the brunette denies instantly. He wouldn't tell you but when you two saw the District 4 reaping he also thought about his brother when Jason appeared on screen. But he couldn't allow himself to see his brother in one of his opponents, that would only hurt him in the arena, so he instantly forced himself to push that thought away from him. The only thing in common between the two of them was that they are both thirteen years old, he just repeated to himself.

"I just showed Jason how I made my camouflage and I remembered when I tried to teach Joffrey how to frost a cookie." Jace must have made some funny face in his surprise because you were smiling again. "He made a mess, I don't know how he ended up with frosting on his hair and face, the only reason my mother didn't get mad is because Joffrey bought the cookies he ruined. If you ask me, he didn't ruin them, he just took artistic liberties" You said the last thing as if you were telling him a big secret, leaning towards him and putting your hand a few centimeters from your face, hiding it from the other tributes, as if you didn't want to they will try to read your lips. At your antics and the image of his younger brother covered in icing, Jacaerys can't help but laugh.

"I didn't know Joffrey spent so much time at the bakery."

"And with you", he added in his head. He couldn't help but wonder why his brother never told him. Although he shouldn't be surprised because at home there is always some bread or cookie from the bakery, but he always thought that the one who was going to buy it was Uncle Larys. He might have missed some things by spending so much time in the forest and the Hob with Baela.

"Your brother is addicted to sugar so he usually comes often after school to buy something. He says he deserves a treat after spending hours locked up in hell."

Jacaerys notices the affection with which you speak of his brother and he can't help but feel warm. He has the feeling that you have even more stories to tell about his brothers and he wants to hear them all.

"Yeah, that sounds like Joffrey," he agrees with a smile.

During the rest of the days of training, Jacaerys feels a whole mix of emotions fighting within him. You two continue training together in some positions such as setting up shelters, recognizing edible plants, and throwing knives and spears, but at some point, you always end up separated by your decision because you want to train with a partner so you look for one of the assistants. In those moments Jace can't help but distrust you because for a while he sees you fighting with the assistant but then the next time he sees you you are in the same section as the professionals, he never sees you talking to one of them but he still can't avoid feeling restless. On the other hand, he can't continue denying that something is forming between the two of you; it's impossible not to form a kind of friendship after sharing so many anecdotes during lunch. At first, you were the one who did most of the talking, telling him more about Joffrey's visits to the bakery, but then Jace wants to know about you and starts asking you more about you and your brothers. And before he least realizes it, he is also sharing his own stories. He tells you how Uncle Larys once made them believe his house was haunted only to make them stop wandering around at night because they wouldn't let him sleep. You laugh when he tells you how he once challenged a bear to fight in the woods to keep a beehive and how his father had never scolded him so much.

On the second day of training before you go to train with an assistant you whisper to Jacaerys that he has a shadow. When he turns to see Rue, the little girl from District 11 spying on them, you encourage him to talk to her but Jace refuses because he has no idea what to say to her and also because he is afraid of meeting her and she will remind him of his brothers or Baela's little sisters.

When the private sessions arrive with the gamemakers it is evident that both you and Jacaerys are nervous because neither of you tries to have a conversation while waiting your turn or even when the two of you are alone after Rue enters.

"Good luck," Jacaerys wishes you as he stands up when he is called. He couldn't tell you later because once a tribute finishes the session he has to go to his apartment "Try throwing the weights, impress them."

"Thank you" It is evident that you were not expecting his words because you keep looking at him impressed "Lucky for you too. Remember to shoot well" you smile at him.

He nods and starts walking towards the door.

He ruined it. What the hell was he thinking? No, he didn't think about it. He just let his anger get the best of him, he was outraged that the guards had stopped paying attention to him after he missed his first shot, he was furious that he could die within a few days and they wouldn't deign to watch his entire performance, so he took the arrow and shot at the gamemakers' table. Of course, he didn't shoot any of them, his arrow hit right where he wanted it, in the apple that the pig had in its mouth. When all eyes were on him he sarcastically thanked them for their time while bowing. He didn't wait to be fired, he stormed out of the training room still feeling his blood boil. Only when he was alone in the elevator did he feel the weight of what he did, he felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest and his throat was burning. He ruined it. He hadn't tried to kill any of the gamemakers but maybe someone would think that. He was sure he must be the first tribute to do something like that. He lost any chance he had of winning the games. But what scares him the most is that because of his attitude, they will now punish his brothers. He would never forgive himself if something happened to them because of him.

When the elevator doors opened, tears had already begun to roll down Jacaerys's cheeks. He ignored the questions from Effie, who was waiting for him in the hallway, and locked himself straight into his room. It didn't take long for knocks to sound on his door and the woman's voice asking him to come out but he didn't move from the bed. When silence came he thought that he had finally given up and they would leave him alone. But minutes later he heard the cold voice of his uncle:

"Jacaerys, open the door. Stop acting like a child."

Jacaerys was about to ignore him but then he realized that the only one who could help him protect his brothers was his uncle. So he took courage and got out of his pile of blankets. He unlatched the door and nervously opened the door. For a moment he thought he saw something different in his uncle's eyes. He couldn't figure out exactly what but that only made him more nervous. Without saying anything he went to sit on the edge of the bed while he watched Larys enter and close the door again. Surprising him, did his uncle think that he would try to escape in the middle of the conversation?

Larys took the chair that was at the desk placed it in front of the bed and then sat down.

"I ruined it," said Jacaerys, his voice breaking when he saw that his uncle did not seem willing to start the conversation. "They are going to punish Luke and Joff because of me." The teenager's desperation was clear by how he tugged at his curls as he spoke."You have to do something, uncle, please. It's my fault, let them punish me."

"What did you do?" the victor demanded to know.

Then Jace told him everything, how the gamemakers were drunk and how after he missed his first shot they stopped paying attention to him, missing the circuit he made and how he hit the center in the rest of his shots, that he didn't think about his actions, that he got carried away with anger and shot at the apple that was in the mouth of the pig that the gamemakers were about to eat, gaining their attention again and how he left the training room without waiting to be fired but not before thanking them sarcastically for their attention. As Jacaerys continued speaking Larys's hand turned white from the strength with which he gripped his staff.

"I told you that you won't attract attention" his uncle's biting tone only made Jacaerys' discomfort increase and he couldn't help but take one of the blankets again and wrap himself in it. It's not like he expected Larys to comfort him but he also shouldn't have been surprised that the first thing he did was scold him. "But you can rest assured, they're not going to punish your brothers." There was that strange look in his eyes again.

"Are you sure?" The uncertainty in his voice was clear, he wanted to trust his uncle but at the same time, he couldn't help but think that Larys would tell him any lie as long as he kept concentrating on the games.

"If they are going to punish Lucerys and Joffrey, they would have to tell what you did in the entertainment center so that it has some effect on the districts, but they won't because it's secret," Larys explained with a little more patience. "The only one you hurt with your actions it's you"

Upon hearing that nothing would happen to his brothers, Jacaerys felt that part of his discomfort disappeared. He still had to worry because surely the gamemakers would now make his life miserable in the arena but at least he knew that his brothers would be safe.

"I know, the gamemakers will make my life miserable in the arena" he stated "And today they will give me the worst score so I won't have any sponsors" he sighed thinking that now it would be even more difficult for him to survive in the arena without sponsors, the food wouldn't be a big problem because he knew how to hunt but if he got hurt then he would need medicine.

"Don't worry about the sponsors, I'll take care of that," Larys promises and this time Jacaerys doesn't doubt his uncle because he looks too confident. "Well, it's done, it's not something we can change. Stop getting depressed and let's go have dinner before they give the scores."

During dinner, Jace barely joins the conversation and feels your worried gaze the entire time. It seems that Effy told you about the state he arrived in after his private session.

In the middle of dinner, Effy can't stand his curiosity anymore so he asks them both how it went. Jacaerys wasn't going to say anything until he heard you speak.

"I don't think I impressed them, some paid attention to me but others were more focused on whatever was on the table," you said resignedly.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry" he apologized, feeling guilty because apparently he had also harmed your private session.

"How is it your fault?" Cinna asked curiously.

"I shot them an arrow," Jace replied.

At first, he ignored Effy's indignation and the rest of the team's questions, focusing more on your reaction. You still looked at him with concern. He was relieved to not see you angry. The truth is, he couldn't blame you if you got angry with him after all his act had attracted the attention of the gamemakers when it was essential for you to have a better score.

"I actually shot an arrow at the pig's apple they were about to eat. They were drunk and I got angry because they weren't paying attention to me."

"And what did they tell you?" You asked anxiously and looked at the doors as if you were expecting that at any moment the peace officers would come in to look for him.

"I don't know. I left"

"Did you leave without permission?" Effie asked to see if she understood correctly.

"I gave it to myself" Jace replied and a laugh escaped your mouth, you quickly stifled it with your hand before Effie's gaze. Jacaerys was pleased to see the worry disappear from your face.

"Larys, aren't you going to say anything about it?" Effie questioned evidently expecting the victor to side with her and scold them.

"It's done, Effie. There's nothing we can do," he responded boredly as he buttered a piece of bread.

"What was their face?" you asked, looking at him curiously.

"They seemed terrified. A man stumbled backward and fell into a punch bowl." At the time Jacaerys had been so angry that he couldn't enjoy the watchman making a fool of himself but now he remembered it with fun.

Everyone laughed, except for Effie but she seemed to hold back a smile so Jace didn't take it the wrong way.

“Oh, I would have loved to see that,” you said with a smile. If Jacaerys hadn't been so focused on you then he would have noticed that his uncle seemed to be studying the two of you.

Once everyone finishes dinner they go to sit in the living room to watch the scores announced on television. How every year a photo of the tribute appears while Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith announce the score. What is striking with the group of professionals is that this year not everyone has a score between eight and ten like previous years, but the boy from District 4 gets a seven. The same score that Rue gets, Jace can't help but wonder how she managed to get that score. But any thoughts of the little girl from District 11 disappear and are replaced by euphoria when he hears Caesar announce his score. An eleven.

Applause and congratulations filled the room. Jacaerys smiles until he realizes that his uncle is quiet and doesn't look as excited as the rest about his eleven. He starts to feel the anxiety in his body and he wants to ask his uncle what the problem is but he doesn't want to have this conversation in front of everyone.

“Good” is the only thing Larys says after they also announce your eight. And Jace feels stupid for worrying so much, surely his uncle didn't say anything before because he was still hanging on to your score after all he wasn't the only tribute Larys had in charge. “You should go to sleep, you have a long day tomorrow” he ordered them while motioning to the avox to bring him more wine.

You and Jacaerys say goodbye to the entire team and head toward the hallway where your rooms are.

“Tell me, what does it feel like to break the bad streak of twelve and go down in history?” you said while leaning on your door.

“You're exaggerating,” Jace said, trying to sound exasperated by rolling his eyes, but there was no annoyance in his tone.

“I'm not,” you shook your head, smiling. You just beat the score of the professionals, I think it's impressive” you said while crossing your arms. “Surely the entire Capitol is talking about you and you are going to monopolize all my sponsors.”

Your last words brought Jace back to his senses. You two were in a competition and his live were at stake. He couldn't keep joking with you. He should be focused on making a good impression on Caesar and the people at the Capitol tomorrow.

“We should go to sleep,” he said abruptly, resting his hand on the handle of his door, trying not to feel guilty as he saw how the spark in your eyes seemed to go out at his tone. “Have a good night,” he didn’t even wait for you to respond before walking into his room and closing the door. His father would be disappointed in his treatment of you.

a/n: I'm grieving because I had to delete the scene I had with Larys and Sea Dragon bc if I left it, then there were going to be things in Cathing Fire that didn't make sense 😫

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, as I always say the comments and reblogs are very appreciated 🥰

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[little-diable]

We Can't be Friends - Spencer Reid (smut)

Since y'all loved my other mother's best friend fic so much, I wanted to write another. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: JJ's daughter, the reader, has joined the BAU a while ago. She and Spencer have been fooling around ever since, even though both know they can't be more than just friends and yet even at being friends, they fail. At least until an incident finally lets the others in on their love.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), age gap, blood, reader is shot (she survives ofc), mother's best friend, stupid lovers, hidden relationship

Pairing: Spencer Reid x JJ's!daughter!reader (3.2k words)

The gasp rumbling through (y/n) echoed through the room, loud enough to draw a gritty laugh from Spencer. The tall man towered over her, hands cupping her cheeks as their lips moved in sync. No words were spoken as he guided her towards the hotel bed, pushing her down to shuffle out of his clothes, all while (y/n) hastily undressed herself. 

“We don’t have much time, Spence.” (Y/n) mumbled against his lips, naked body searching his like they had done numerous times before. It was a dangerous game they were playing, (y/n) had joined the BAU only a few months ago, always followed by her mother’s watchful eyes. Too many fights had happened between (y/n) and her mother, JJ, since she had joined the team, making the young woman feel as if her mother wasn’t trusting her – rightfully so, and yet neither (y/n) nor Spencer dared to let others in on their back and forth. Nothing but friends – a lie both kept on telling themselves.

“Then we better make the most of it.” His lips kissed their way down her naked body, eyes flickering up to (y/n)’s, watching her with mischief swimming in his pupils. It was scandalous almost, her mother’s best friend, the one who had watched her grow up for years, was now the man whose closeness she searched at any given chance, drawn to him like ancient lovers fulfilling their prophecy. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked, baby.” Spencer’s thin fingers brushed through her slit, spreading her arousal on her pulsing bundle with a smirk widening on his lips. Wordlessly, she tugged on his brown curls, begging him to finally fuck her after a day filled with chases, with clues they had tried to follow and a killer still on the loose. 

“Spencer,” (y/n) choked on his name as he pushed two fingers into her cunt, spreading her walls like he had done just yesterday evening. They were desperate for any and every moment together, hidden away in empty rooms, broom closets, or their hotel rooms while the others were out and about. “Fuck me, I need you inside of me.”

“You know how to ask nicely for it, be a good girl, (y/n).” His condescending tone left her groaning, eyes fluttering close as he curled his fingers against her g-spot. It took her a few seconds, with shaky exhales and trembling fingers clinging to his locks, to finally speak up.

“Please, Spencer, I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me. I’m yours, forever yours.” The growl ripping through him at her words left (y/n) grinning in success, a grin that was wiped off her lips the second he forcefully pushed into her, letting his cock spread her fluttering walls. For a second, both held still, needing to adjust to one another, to the intense sensation ripping through them like a tsunami, about to drown them in the waves of lust. 

“You’re still so fucking tight for me, I’ll never get tired of fucking you.” Her walls clenched around him at his words, struggling to put her feelings into words. All (y/n) could do was cling to him, claw her fingernails into his skin as he fucked her into the mattress, the hotel bed she shared with her mother. 

(Y/n) couldn’t keep her moans bottled in, unable to stop her sinful sounds from clawing through her as Spencer fucked her into oblivion. Both were stuck in their trance, solemnly focused on one another, all until his phone began to ring. Her eyes shot open, watching Spencer reach for his phone while he kept fucking her. 

They held eye contact as he answered the call, forcing (y/n) to keep quiet. Her moans were swallowed by the hand he pressed to her mouth, struggling to focus on the words Spencer spoke, telling whoever had called him that they’d be at the station soon. 

“That was your mom,” his grin kept widening as Spencer stared down at (y/n), taking in the fucked out expression she couldn’t shake, unable to speak any longer. “They found another lead, we gotta be quick, baby. I need you to cum for me.”

Spencer’s fingers found her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle to push her over the edge. (Y/n) came within a handful of moments, calling out his name as he fucked her through her high. It was pathetic almost how much power he held over her, how much love she fostered for Spencer – a love that could never be. 

He followed her seconds later, pulling out of her to relieve himself on her stomach, painting her skin with his cum. Both were panting, unable to hold back their laughter as Spencer pressed another kiss to her swollen lips before he rose to his feet, “We better hurry before your mom picks us up herself.” 

……

“I don’t want you on this, (y/n), stay back and wait for my call.” JJ’s voice echoed through the small office, bright eyes staring at her daughter. The team kept watching their interaction, too focused on the both of them to pick up on the uneasiness radiating off Spencer. 

“Stop treating me as if I am not part of this team. It’s my job to chase this man as much as it is yours.” The spite dripping from (y/n)’s words left the others cringing, trying to keep themselves from interfering as (y/n) turned towards Aaron. “Will I be able to join, Hotch?”

She watched the man’s dark eyes flicker from her features to her mother’s, silently studying the two for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, “You will, but I need you to stay close to me, you haven’t had enough field experience yet.” 

JJ was out of the room within moments, followed by all others – all besides (y/n), Aaron, and Spencer. An almost uncomfortable silence wrapped itself around the three, knowing that there was something else the Unit Chief needed to communicate, a conversation (y/n) desperately wanted to flee from. 

“I hope the two of you know what you’re doing. The others haven’t picked up on it yet, but it won’t take long for JJ to figure this out. As your boss, I need to warn you of the chaos this will bring to the team. And as your friend, I beg you to figure this out before I am asked to pick sides.” Aaron left the two without waiting for their reply, forcing heat to flare up in (y/n)’s system, and confusion in Spencer’s. 

“Come, we’ve got a job to finish.” (Y/n) turned from Spencer as she spoke the words, following Aaron out of the station and towards the black SUV he was driving. No further word was spoken between the three as they drove towards their destination, the house that had been surveilled the past days. The others had arrived moments ago, wearing their vests, clinging to their guns with their eyes focused on the house. 

“Is he alone?” Aaron’s voice rang in (y/n)’s ears, she stayed glued to his side, the man who had always been like a father to her, more than her mother’s husband, Will, could ever be. Aaron was the one she trusted more than she trusted herself, the one she’d ask for guidance, the one who’d hold her when everything began to close in on her. The one she’d always fight for. 

“Seems like it is. How do you want to do this?” (Y/n) tried to catch her mother’s gaze as Derek and Aaron spoke, but the blonde-haired woman kept staring ahead, seemingly still fuelled by her anger. (Y/n) and JJ never had a close relationship, just enough to make it through their day-to-day without any big mishaps. But the second (y/n) had joined the BAU, her mother had turned into an overprotective form of herself (y/n) wasn’t used to, not understanding where JJ’s concern suddenly came from. Perhaps this had also been one of the reasons why she hadn’t felt any guilt the first time she had shared a kiss with her mother’s best friend, Spencer, not tied together by any strong mother-daughter bond. 

“(Y/n), Reid, you’re with me. JJ, Prentiss, you take the back with Morgan and Rossi.” Everything began to blur by, and within seconds (y/n) found herself following Aaron and Spencer into the house, checking every room. And then she saw him, their unsub, the man who had kidnapped three girls for his sick pleasure. 

The man had his gun trained on them, telling (y/n) that he was ready to shoot, aiming at Spencer who hadn’t seen him yet. It was a natural reaction of her body, throwing herself in front of the man who held her heart in his hands, oblivious to the depth of her feelings. And the next second, his bullet pierced her collarbone, the spot that hadn’t been protected by her vest. 

Shots echoed through the air, sounds that rang in her ears as (y/n) sank to the ground. Blood poured from her wound all too heavily, an amount of blood her eyes hadn’t ever taken in before. (Y/n)’s vision grew blurry, she heard her name being called, and could feel somebody cradling her hand in theirs, but within moments she passed out. 

“(Y/n)? We need a medic! Please!” Spencer’s panicked voice filled the house, instantly guiding JJ towards them. His glassy eyes found her wide ones, watching his best friend sink to the ground next to her passed out daughter.

“What happened?” It was just a whisper, a whisper that was almost drowned out by the sound of nearing sirens, telling them that help was close. 

“She pushed herself in front of me, she took the bullet for me.” Spencer kept rambling away, telling JJ what had happened, how he hadn’t seen the man Aaron had instantly killed after (y/n) had been shot. Words that kept leaving him like a waterfall cascading down his chin, only stopping himself from speaking a further word as JJ reached for his blood-covered hand, tightly squeezing it.

(Y/n)’d be alright, she had to be.

……

“Fuck,” (y/n) woke with a curse. She had to blink a few times to adjust to her surroundings, the bright light she was engulfed in, trying not to gag at the sterile scent crawling up her nostrils. The first person she focused on was her mother, sleeping on a chair close to her bed. (Y/n) allowed herself to study JJ for a moment before her eyes found the person sitting on the other side of the bed, Spencer.

“Hi,” he whispered the word as he squeezed the hand he was holding with his. Without letting go of her, he reached for a glass of water, helping (y/n) drink a few sips to find her voice. 

“How long was I out for?” She tried to keep quiet, not daring to interrupt her moment with Spencer just yet. Tiredness clung to his features, telling her that they must have been here for a while, waiting for her to wake as her body tried to regain its strength. 

“Almost two days. They had to repair your collarbone, but everything went as planned, you’ll be good to leave in no time.” Both their eyes snapped towards JJ, who watched the two with something swimming in her pupils (y/n)’s tired self couldn’t pinpoint. (Y/n) expected Spencer to hastily pull his hand away as JJ spoke, but he kept holding onto her, not loosening his grip on her. 

“Good, I’ll have to apologise to Aaron for the extra paperwork, huh?” She had expected her mother to smile at her, to speak some kind of soothing words. But all JJ did was stare at her and Spencer – instantly telling (y/n) that her mother knew about what was going on between them. 

“You won’t return to the BAU, (y/n).” She froze in the bed, wide eyes staring at her mother as JJ kept speaking. “Not only did you risk yourself, but you also have been too reckless, and reckless behaviour is unacceptable. I am sure you knew that before you began this relationship or whatever it is between you and Spencer. I am disappointed in you, (y/n). We raised you better than that.”

“Better than what, mother?” (Y/n) didn’t allow her pain to stop her from speaking, fuelled by her anger and her exhaustion. “You should be grateful I found a man like Spencer to love, a man you’ve always trusted more than anybody else. You know he’ll be good to me. And you also know I am a worthy asset to this team. I won’t leave the BAU because you can’t get over whatever it is you’re struggling with.” 

“We’ll speak once you’re back home.” JJ was out of the room within seconds, leaving (y/n) and Spencer behind, wrapped up in the sounds of beeping machines and the voices of nurses and doctors hallowing down the hallway.

……

“Do you need anything else?” Concern dripped from Spencer’s voice. He was standing near her bed, weary eyes following (y/n)’s every movement. He had temporarily moved into her apartment the past few days, not daring to let her out of his eyes once – while skillfully avoiding the talk both desperately needed to have. 

“Mhm,” (y/n)’s eyes wandered over his tired features, the face she’d seen in her dreams, the lips she hadn’t kissed in days, the curls she hadn’t been allowed to tug on for way too long. “Come here, Spence.”

“I should check on the food.” He tried to turn from her, tried to leave the room with hasty steps, but the sharp call of his name forced Spencer to freeze in his movements. Slowly, he turned back towards (y/n), eyes filled with the plea to avoid this topic for a tad bit longer, at least till he’d find a way to escape should they spiral into a fight neither of them could rip themselves out of. 

“I’m tired of this, Spence. We knew from the beginning that this wouldn’t be easy should my mother realise what's going on. But I didn’t think you’d drop whatever this is between us just like that.” She stared up at him, gaze torn between anger and hurt, and yet she couldn’t shake the love she felt for Spencer, a love that ran deeper than any laws, any promises. “If you don’t want to be with me, I need you to leave. I appreciate you trying to take care of me, but I’d rather do that on my own if you keep treating me with this distance between us. You don’t have to work off any debt just because I took the shot.” 

“Is that what you think I’m doing here? Work off a debt?” No longer did his voice tremble, no longer were Spencer's eyes weary and uneasy, but rather filled with a determination she had tried to coax out of him for days. Spencer took a step closer, and another until he sat down near her. The hairs on her arms rose, fuelled by the excitement his closeness always managed to push through her. “This is nothing but torture for me, (y/n). I can’t touch you, whenever my hand finds yours I am reminded of that moment, I thought you were about to die in my arms, and it’d forever be my fault. I can’t concentrate whenever I’m near you, but I can’t breathe whenever you’re away from me. Your mother is my best friend and I curse myself for going behind her back like that, with her own daughter. But as selfish as that may be, I can’t let you go. I don’t know what to do.” 

Her lips found his before Spencer could move away, drawing a groan out of him. Their tongues met with excitement urging them on, but the spell was broken the second a pained gasp left her, forcing Spencer’s mouth away from hers instantly. His hand cupped her warm cheek as she tried to chase his lips, unable to stop her annoyed huff from clawing through her, “You haven’t touched me in days, Spence. Please.”

Spencer studied her for a few more seconds before a small grin tugged on his lips. Once again he kissed her, softer this time – almost teasingly, “Lay back down for me, baby.” 

She watched his every move with curiosity swimming in her twinkling pupils, following his frame as he settled between her legs, as he pressed his lips to her naked legs, wearing nothing but her panties and a shirt of his. Just from the way Spencer was touching her, (y/n) could tell that he wouldn’t fuck her, not tonight, but he seemed to ache for her just as much, kissing his way up to her already damp panties. 

“It’s been torture for me, I fucked my hand in the shower every evening to the thought of you.” His husky voice left her gasping, while her mind imagined Spencer fucking his hand, just a few metres away from her bed, hidden in the shower while she patiently waited for his return. No word managed to leave (y/n), too focused on his touch and the way her body trembled at his words – unable to come up with any teasing words. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already dripping for me. Such a desperate girl for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Spencer, please.” They held eye contact as he pushed her panties aside with his slender fingers, making enough room for his tongue to brush along her folds, groaning at her taste. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest as if they were hunting an unsub, racing through streets to catch up with those running from them. But as much as (y/n) loved the high of a chase, this was so much better, a touch that left her burning, buzzing through her like a wildfire spreading all too quickly. 

Spencer’s eyes were filled with a longing that left (y/n) breathless, unable to stop her moans from clawing through her. Two of his fingers dipped into her tightness, perfectly filling her, without stopping his tongue from moving. He brushed the strong muscle against her pulsing bundle, feeling her shudder beneath him  – already close to the edge. 

Her trembling fingers tugged on his curls, drawing a breathy moan out of Spencer as he curled his fingers. Spencer couldn’t rip his eyes off her pleasure-drunken features as she came, head thrown back, lips parted. It was a sight he’d never forget, willingly remembering it with every rising of the sun as if she was his own deity to pray to. 

“I love you, Spencer.” (Y/n) choked on the words, gasping in surprise as he hastily moved up her body to kiss her breathless once again. 

“I love you too.” His words left her grinning, relaxing back against the mattress as he laid down next to her, letting his eyes wander over her gorgeous features. “JJ will understand, it may take some time, but I won’t give you up, (y/n), I never will.”

[winterrrnight]

lovers rock

PAIRING: bsf!soft!rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you kiss your best friend for the first time.

WARNINGS: slightly suggestive content (no smut): just slightly vivid descriptions of making out (but it’s soft and sweet); consumption of alcohol

EDITH SPEAKS: their first kiss feels like such a big milestone for them and I knew I had to write a oneshot for it! I hope you guys like this :) please reblog if you liked reading! feedback is highly appreciated 🎸

part of this little universe <3

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“now, how many men have you kissed?”

“very few,”

“but you offered me a kiss, why?”

“such a foolish reason i’m afraid, i just, wanted to kiss you,”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It was a small gathering of just you and your close friends at your house, a nice time to spend with one another as a form of a dinner party, involving food, drinks, and some drinking games to go along with it.

“Bye, thank you for visiting!” You said with a smile as you peered from behind the open door, waving to the last of your friends who were now leaving your house after the party. You closed the door behind them, a small stumble in your step from the alcohol coursing through your veins as you walked back to your living room, where Rafe was sprawled across the couch.

“You plannin’ on staying here?” You chuckled as you began to pick some of the dirty dishes from the coffee table and took them to your kitchen.

You heard him laugh from the kitchen, his laughter drifting up to you from the living room. He was definitely the one who had the most to drink, constantly losing the drinking games and taking shots over shots. You felt as if he’s probably doing it on purpose, but you didn’t say anything; just watched him laugh and smile and take his shots.

Once you were done with some minimal job of cleaning in the kitchen for the night, you went back to him in the living room, where he was still in the same position. Your living room was decorated around with the prettiest golden fairy lights, and were the only source of lighting in the room except the occasional moonlight filtering through the windows whenever the curtains would blow under the wind. Your record player sat in the corner, a vinyl of gentle jazz music still spinning, filling the room with the sexy saxophone notes and the deep rumbles of the bass.

He saw you approach him with a lazy smile pulling his lips, before slowly sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It’s… it’s getting late, I’m gonna leave now,” he said and started to get up from the couch. He got up quite unceremoniously, almost tripping and falling back down on the plush couch, but he gained his balance back again – barely.

You couldn’t stifle the laughter bubbling in you, so it made its way past your lips, a soft light laughter that made Rafe’s heart jump.

“Hey, now what are you laughing at huh?” He asked, his tone laced with faux arrogance as he made his way towards you. His steps were miscalculated, and he almost tripped over himself again, which caused your laughter to only increase.

“Okay okay yeah I’m making a fool of myself at this point,” he chuckled as he finally stood straight in front of you, looking at you.

Your laughter slowly died down as you looked at him, his cheeks flushed under the warm, dim lighting in your room and his hair completely mussed.

“How are you going to drive? You’re too tipsy to drive,” you said softly.

Rafe’s ears perked up at your words. “Are you extending me an invitation to stay?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You chuckled softly at his tone and expression, and nodded your head. “I am, you’re too drunk to drive, you should stay,”

The earnest honesty in your words didn’t go unmissed by Rafe. His expressions softened, and he nodded at your words. “Okay, I’ll stay, only because you asked me so sweetly,”

“Right yeah, I’m so honored,” you said, sarcasm evident in your words, causing Rafe to let out a short laugh.

A few moments later, after you did some more cleaning up around the living room, you both found yourself sitting next to each other on the couch. The furnace was lit up too, adding more to the golden glow of the fairy lights as you both cozied up under the same warm blanket wrapped around you.

You had changed the vinyl from some jazz album to something more softer, relaxing and mellow; something you and Rafe both loved. You let your head drop on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as his arm came around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

For a moment, you felt everything die down. Every stress, every anxiety, every whirlpool of all the problems you have in your mind started to die down, till you were left with nothing but a peaceful clearing. You let out a deep, heavy hearted sigh and snuggled more against Rafe’s side, who only gladly pulled you closer to him.

You reached out your hand for his free one and placed yours on top of his, causing him to look down at your head resting on his shoulder. You slowly lifted your head up, your eyes on the same level as his. Your gaze swept over his facial features, the way they were so striking under the dim, aureate lighting. Your gaze slowly trailed down over his nose and then to his lips and the soft cupid’s bow, the pink, flushed tint to his fleshy lips, and the perfect symmetry of them; all only shone more and more in the fairy lights.

You felt as if you were being gravitated towards him without any control in your hands. Your body felt like it was being controlled like a puppet by some higher power, but you did absolutely nothing in your power to stop it.

Rafe stayed right where he was, watching you lean in closer to him with your half hooded gaze transfixed on his lips, causing his own eyes to look down at your lips, watching them get closer and closer to him with each passing second. He felt as if his heart was caught in his throat, and the moment you were so close that your lips brushed past his in a touch that was barely present, he felt like he could explode.

You felt daring, really daring as your lips brushed past his, and that only fueled your craving to kiss him properly. When you didn’t hear Rafe voice any complaints, or move back from you, you felt even more bold. So bold that you brushed your lips past his again, but this time, you gently pushed your lips against his, slotting your lips between his and softly kissing him.

It felt downright euphoric, the way your lips moved so slowly and steadily against his. His hands came to cradle your face in them, the warmth of his hands sending tingles down your spine as you subconsciously lean closer to him, your own hands coming to rest against his chest.

Your head tilted slightly to the side to deepen the kiss, which; again, he made no move to pull away from. In fact, you felt his tongue gently trace against your bottom lip, coaxing your lips to part and to let him in. You let your lips separate and his warm tongue gently pushed through, delving into your mouth. His tongue tenderly mapped out the inside of your mouth, feeling and tasting everything, before it met with your tongue.

The pace remains slow and sweet, his tongue softly moving against yours and yours moving with the same intimacy, the taste of alcohol on his lips spilling onto your tongue.

As your mouth moved perfectly in sync with his, you realized that’s a taste you could never get enough of. You wanted it again, and again, and again, and again. That was when you knew there was no way you would let this be the only time you let your lips kiss his in that perfectly slow manner.

And that was when you knew there was no one you had known like Rafe.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! Reader) Part 4

Synopsis: Astarion kissed Shadowheart during Truth or Dare and then he kisses you in the heat of Battle. You and Astarion have a heart to heart after he refuses to give back your bedroll. Astarion realizes how much he needs you and wants you around.

CW: Dead dove, fighting violence (beating the heck out of Nere)

Author Note: Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all the love and support!

Part 3 : Part 5 : Master list

“Hold it!” 

 “Easy now! Let’s not do anything hilarious!” He says all too quickly to the Deep Gnome.

“Shut your mouth hoon or I’ll shut you down.”

 He really hates Gnomes and this certainly isn’t helping. 

 Astarion could not be more horrified with the situation in front of them right now and you are in shock- the amount of ‘blow up dust’ as you so ungraciously called it, could quite literally destroy every single person in this room. 

 Gods, Astarion adores you. Only you would panic and yell, “GUYS THAT’S A LOT OF BLOW UP DUST!” 

 Karlach is laughing hysterically out of fear and Gale looks like he may actually shit himself. Astarion is somehow the calmest individual here and that doesn’t bode very well for him. He isn’t keen on planning and with you out of commission, Karlach on the verge of hysteria, and Gale, oh so usually fearless Gale, is having second thoughts about this adventure, it’s up to Astarion to keep you all from imploding. 

 “DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” the Gnome roars, earning a roll of Astarion’s eyes, “state your business.”

“W-we are here because we really need some of that powered, “ you say awkwardly, “you are Philomeena? I presume?” 

“What’s to say?” Her thick accent grinds on his ear drums, “you’re Nere’s bootlicker- saw you sail in. A godsdamned True Soul.

“Better to die in this shit heap than moonrise. If you want me- come get me.”

 Astarion takes over the conversation from there and manages to talk her down and she retreats- leaving them just enough to free Nere and the Deep Gnomes trapped in the rock fall. 

“I suppose romance is dead,” Gale tsks, “that Gnome is heartless.” 

“Eh,” Astarion shrugs, “I’m not entirely surprised- that ‘lover’ of hers is rather annoying.” 

“Annoying?” You whirl around, looking very confused, “what in the hells do you mean by annoying?” 

 You are the emotional equivalent of a poofy cat right now and Astarion had a feeling something may eventually strike one of your nerves.

 The group had played a massive game of Truth or Dare the night before. Shadowheart, for whatever reason, dared Astarion to kiss her. He figured it was just in good fun- no big deal.

 He is beginning to think that he may have been sorely, sorely mistaken and so does Shadowheart- and coincidentally, Karlach.

 Their line of thought had been that you may finally make your move.

 It backfired miserably. 

 You talked to him throughout the night like you normally do, but you weren’t nearly as forthcoming with your own answers, and you told him you didn’t know if you were up for a cuddle. You said you just “had a bad dream the night before and I don’t want to wake you up from all my thrashing. It usually accompanies the second night.” 

 He knows it’s utter shit. He saw how heartbroken you looked and the way you seemed to indulge in far more wine than you usually do. You decided you were over the game after a few more rounds and decided to go to bed- he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure if you would want his comfort or not so he joined you a bit later- certainly space would be the best thing he could provide.

 It once again occurred to him that that was not the direction to go after Shadowheart and Karlach confronted him after everyone else went to sleep.

“Now they are going to think you don’t care at all!” 

“Fangs- if you want to fix this, I suggest you go sprinting that way sooner than later.” 

 “I merely meant that she seems a wee bit clingy, my Dear,” he says nonchalantly, “all that worrying over someone who doesn’t feel the same would be exhausting.”

“It is.” 

 You are turning around before anyone can even say a word. 

“I’m sorry, Fangs,” Karlach whispers before racing to catch up with you. 

 He sighs heavily- he should be next to you right now. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

 Astarion scowls, “I don’t need your advice, Gale, I have standards.” 

“Maybe, but I’m not the one who hurt Tav’s feelings by kissing my ex- fling,” he states matter of factly, “you know how much they care for you- you didn’t think to tell Shadowheart, ‘no’?” 

“I-“ Astarion goes to defend himself but then realizes that, unfortunately, Gale is right. Only he has no idea how to say no. It never occurred to him that he would be allowed to tell other people no- not just you.

“I don’t think less of you, Astarion,” Gale says promptly, “I am no stranger when it comes to the topic of love.

“You should do something meaningful for them.” 

“And whatever the hells can I do!?” He tries not to sound so whiny and desperate, “they despise me right now and why wouldn’t they!?” 

 And that is when Gale drops the bomb of all bombs.

 He told Astarion your first date plans for him- sea shell hunting, a bottle of wine, and just getting to know each other. At the time it may have made him scoff and make fun of you- what a ridiculous concept, taking him to collect seashells. 

 Only now, he wants to do that more than anything, but you have already crossed the river and you all have yet to get Nere’s head in one of your bags for the Myconoid colony. He isn’t even entirely sure there are seashells down here!

 He stands firm in his resolve- he will continue to act as if nothing is different, maybe be more affectionate, and then when you all finally make it out of the Underdark and if there is a decent beach near the Crèche- he is going to take you on the date of the Century and you won’t have to question his affections ever again.

 It is bad for his plan- after all. 

  He follows you and Karlach as you make the trek back to the slaves and the slavers attempting to free Nere and the others trapped behind the rock wall. 

 You still avoid his gaze when you talk to the Deep Gnomes and the Duergar- informing them that you have the solution to all their problems and then some.

 Everything pops off instantly- you are rage filled and Nere being an ass earns him a thunder wave that sends him flying backwards.

 The fight is brutal and Astarion is keeping up with Nere in the mess of battle around them- you protect him with sanctuary and give him as many advantages as you are able while also making sure the others are equally as taken care of. 

 “ASTARION!” 

 Astarion ends Nere and turns just in time to see an enlarged Duergar come stumbling towards him- grabbing him by the head before flinging him towards the Lava. 

 If he’s being completely honest- it’s not the worst death he could experience and he isn’t all that upset about it.

 However, he never does get devoured by the lava below. You jumped in time to grab him and he forgot that you had consumed a potion of flying and elixir of giant strength before the battle. You were hyper worried about the lava and he supposes he is grateful for it as you both go rolling onto one of the rock platforms floating like a ship.

 Astarion begins to feel the impact of the situation he had been about to experience. He supposes it probably wouldn’t have been that pleasant of an experience, but still not the worst.

 You, on the other hand, risked your sanity and innocence for him- not even knowing if you would be able to get to him or not. 

 The battle continues to roar around both of you, but his attention is entirely on you. 

 You care for him- really care for him- and he has come to really care for you too. How can you not see how much he cares about you? How are you still clouded by his regretful rejection!?  

 “Are you okay?” You are a sweaty, horribly panicked mess, “are you hurt? Any scratches? What about-“

 You are cut off by his lips against yours and his hands cupping your face. 

  You look dazed when he finally stops and thankfully, he is able to recover somewhat and sends an arrow flying at the duergar that was about to shoot you. 

 You both re-engage in the battle- now using ranged attacks to cover each other and the others. 

 It feels like eons before it ends, but you never leave each other’s side and he could do this for as long as needed as long as you are nearby. If your safety and his safety are in question, he will not leave until both of you are safe. The idea of abandoning you, in spite of how afraid he is, makes him sick. 

 You give him a weak smile by the time it’s over- you are obviously overheated and feeble. Sweat drips down your face and neck- he supports you and Gale helps to teleport you both over. 

 Astarion beheads Nere like he promised he would and the trek back to camp feels like an eternity. He is even feeling overheated and that is saying something. 

  You go with the rest of the women to clean up and that leaves Astarion to wonder if he crossed the line. Maybe he misread all the signs and you have been over him for a while now. 

 A sigh of relief leaves his mouth when you enter the tent- you look torn by his presence and you sit crisscrossed with your hands folded across your chest.

“You have to choose.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” he scoffs.

“You either kiss me or you kiss Shadowheart, but I can’t keep feeling confused and heartbroken like this. I know you rejected me, but that still doesn’t mean you can play with my feelings.”

 Astarion feels a lump form in his own throat- he didn’t realize how much he had hurt you with his actions. He knew to some extent they hurt you, but he hadn’t realized that this had maybe been an ongoing issue for you and the majority of his actions have been kind of confusing. 

“I choose you,” he states quickly, “I’m surprised that is even a question at this point, Darling.”

“I- WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?” You sputter, “You rejected me!” 

“And I told you I regretted it!”

“When!?”

“That day on the beach!”

 You look dumbfounded and like you have no idea what he is even talking about. It takes you a few more moments until it seems to click, but then you just look even more annoyed.

“That was barely anything!”

“To you maybe!”

 You guffaw, an adorable pout on your face, “then why did you kiss her again?”

“It was for a game,” he rolls his eyes with exasperation, feeling agitated beyond belief, “if I knew this would be this much of a headache, I wouldn’t have come into your tent or kissed you today.” 

 He realizes what he says almost immediately after saying it. Your face is incredibly still and you look really, really hurt. 

 You get up and grab your bed roll- storming towards the entrance.

“Darling-“

 You swat his hand away, but he’s not about to give up that easily. He grabs for anything and you are fighting over your bedroll now.

“Give it back, Astarion!” 

“Absolutely not- not until you forgive me and agree to stay!” 

 “I’m not ready to!”

“Then I guess you won’t get your bedroll or sleep!” 

 The two of you stare at each other, neither party budging and when you do a test pull, he narrows his eyes at you and holds the sleeping bag even tighter. 

 Admittedly, the idea of you walking away from him while you are still upset makes him feel like he’s been flayed. He doesn’t want to sit agonizing about what his punishment may be if you decide you are never able to forgive him. His brain is going to extremes- you will either never speak to him again, kick him out, stake him, return him to Cazador, or you will serve Cazador level punishment. 

 He knows you wouldn’t do any of those things in his rational brain- you probably just need a moment to breathe-but his nervous system is alight with fear and worry. His brain is telling him he cannot let you walk out of your tent until this is resolved. 

 You pull on it again and his grip only tightens more- that’s when he becomes aware of the fact that he is shaking and he hasn’t blinked or breathed in a moment. Not a sound has escaped him- he oozes worry and fear. 

 He doesn’t want to go back to how things were before he gave you the Restoration Amulet- he doesn’t want to lose his cuddle time with you or your affection or gain your hatred.

 He doesn’t want you to realize what Cazador had so long ago- Astarion is a nuisance, a dumb ass, and a fool. He’s naive and ridiculous- unloveable at best. 

 He doesn’t want you to see him that way, but maybe it’s too late now. Maybe the damage is already done and this is only making it worse.

“Astarion?” Your voice is soft and your head is tilted, “it’s okay- I can be upset with your actions and vice versa without something bad happening. I just- well I guess I needed some time to cool off.” 

 He can’t speak- his body has shut down entirely. When did that happen? His body is disconnected from his brain and he is floating in space. He feels so far away from you and it makes him want to cry like a pathetic child who is afraid of a monster under the bed. 

 He needs you and he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Astarion?” 

 The way he let’s go of the bed roll is almost robotic.

“No worries, Darling,” his mask comes up again- something he hasn’t felt the need to do in a while, “go, cool off or whatever it is you need to do. I will find something else to preoccupy my time.” 

 He turns back towards his stuff in your tent- maybe he should pack it up? Give you a night to yourself? 

 Maybe he should start heading towards Baldur’s Gate and attempt to free himself from Cazador. It will likely end in his death, but maybe that is for the better. Nobody needs a broken piece of garbage hanging around. 

 A gentle hand on his shoulder makes him stiffen even more, but your scent and the sound of your heartbeat are enough to keep him from lashing out in fear. 

 “Astarion- please stand up and look at me- please.”

 He does as he’s told because what else can he do? You are mad at him and he can’t afford to lose you. 

 Astarion, in his haze, is confused by the sad look on your face. You should be elated- he is broken and ready to be used for whatever you need. Whatever you want- as long as it means you will come back to him by morning and you won’t think less of him than you probably already do. 

 Your hands gently move to his cheeks and your eyes are boring into his empty, unblinking, spacey ones. He can hear your heartbeat racing- your response to the monster in your tent. However, you could not be more gentle, caring, and brave.

“Come back to me, Star,” you whisper, “you’re safe here with me. I care about you so much.” 

“I am fine, Darling.”

“No, you aren’t,” you frown and your eyes begin to look watery, “I can see you, Astarion. You are panicking. I am so sorry. Everything is okay- I am not going to leave you or hurt you and I still think the world of you. It was just a… well I don’t know what it was, but it’s okay. I promise.”

 It’s like the first rays of sun through the tent in the morning- your voice calls to him as it does when he is having nightmares. 

 The person who hid away long ago, the 39 year old boy who had been tricked- is peering through the fog and at you. Astarion feels as desperate as he did the moment he was dying- he needs help and instead of Cazador looming over him, you are offering a healing hand. 

 The boy who needed someone like you is awakening within him as you continue to coax him back to life. His tears are falling, his heart is broken- he isn’t sure he wants to be experiencing the cathartic sensation of finally letting go of some of the pain that has been etched into his body- into his soul. 

 He also didn’t mean to make the situation about himself, but you don’t seem to mind. Of course you don’t- why would you? You are you.

“You are safe here with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you- I won’t ever hurt you. I promise. Just like I know you won’t let anyone hurt me.” 

 You trust him to keep you safe. You believe that he is capable of doing so.

 The entire dam breaks- he bursts into tears uncharacteristically and his sobs are broken and raw. Astarion holds onto you like Karlach does Clive. 

 He doesn’t remember when you hugged him back, but he is finally brought completely back after several moments of embracing each other. Your shoulder is drenched in tears and he is still shaking, but he is more aware now.

 Safe. It is safe here. 

 “I didn’t mean it,” he whispers.

“I know you didn’t.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I forgive you,” you say firmly, “I-I was upset and I know other people being displeased hasn’t been the best experience for you. I will try to communicate my frustrations and needs better next time.” 

“And I won’t do something as stupid as kiss Shadowheart again.”

“You are allowed to do whatever you please.”

“I know and I will actually tell her, ‘no’.”

 Your brows are furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“Gale made me realize that I am allowed to say no.”

 You blink a few times, a flash of guilt crosses your face, and then you press a quick kiss to his cheek- it’s your turn to wipe his tears away and you smile at him sadly.

“You are always allowed to say no and if someone has an issue with it, then they are going to have to answer to those fangs and my long sword.” 

 Your words are like music to his ears.

 He takes your bed roll from the ground, rolls his out as it should be and then covers it with yours. You both climb into the covers- your body heat is like an antidote to his poisoned mind. The fear continues to ebb away. 

 Astarion lays his head against your chest and you stroke his hair. He hums happily against your sweat sheened skin. Your tank top sticks to you, but the spots where he lays seem to be drying up a bit more. 

 He loves how fundamentally alive you are. Astarion has never been able to enjoy another person’s presence and cuddling is the only act that has never been ruined for him. He loves the ability to hear your heart thrumming through your chest and your blood in your veins. Every breath reminds him to breath and he seems to always follow your rhythm. His favorite is when you fall asleep.

 Your breathes are soft and slow- your heart is lazy and you are in a deep, deep sleep. You have a predator cuddling with you- one that you have given permission to drink from you at any point- and yet you sleep as sound as a babe. Your trust in him means more than words could ever say. 

 How many nights had he spent terrified and afraid in Cazador’s company? Or in the kennels? Sometimes even locked away in a crypt and once his own coffin!

 The night he would have a moment for a cuddle, he would lay against them or vice versa, but he knew their death was on the way and it felt wrong. It felt like he was lying to them and it bothered him more than he would ever openly admit to anyone- well, besides you maybe. 

 Now, he listens to the heartbeat of the ‘Hero’ in the grand scheme of things and he knows he will awaken to you tomorrow morning. You will have a smile on your face and lead this group to that Gods awful forge- bravery and confidence in your stance even though you are basically facing impossible odds. 

 And he trusts you. Astarion will be by your side with both of his daggers ready to strike at your word and he knows the same goes for you towards him. 

  For the first time in 200 years, Astarion lets himself believe that he may truly end up being free of Cazador. As long as you are by his side, anything is possible.

Taglist: Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury @golden-baby

[perpetualcynicism]

…𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: In which replying to a mysterious letter leads you back to the one place (and person) you could never quite forget. …𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Childhood friends to lovers. …𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: None. …𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑: 2,256 words. …𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: Gender-neutral reader; renga is a collaborative form of Japanese poetry which consists of a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable scheme; Heizou Hasegawa is a character from the novel series Onihei Hankachō by Shōtarō Ikenami, who acted as possible inspiration for Shikanoin Heizou, who was inspired by a real figure—an interesting and more comprehensive explanation of this can be found here. Reblogs and comments are appreciated.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

𝙰 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚊.

It is a letter which appears under your door, written in an elegant hand on a plain slip of paper, left unsigned. You are addressed by your pen-name at the top; the rest reads as follows:

I have heard countless tales of your famed verse, and read many of your novels on my travels—no, I will be honest; I confess that I’ve read all of them. I cannot help myself. Such wit and mastery of words as you possess is simply astounding. In particular your most recent tale, A Thousand Boughs of Sakura, was exceptionally engaging in how you utilised verse to leave hints in the text towards the true identity of the culprit; and I must say that you almost fooled me with the shocking conclusion! 

In the spirit of your skill, and my current being in town—entertain a poor soul with a game of renga, will you? I’ll start:

—Secrets tossed on wind

The rest of the paper is blank, as if the author has already anticipated your compliance to the proposal with complete confidence. 

The letter’s arrival itself is nothing out of the ordinary: you often receive such messages from fans, offering praise, questions and comments regarding your publications. It is, however, one of the rare occasions where the subject of interest has been yourself, rather than your work, and the first where a request has so specifically, not to mention so directly, been made of you.

Indeed, from the request to the manner of writing, the letter initially strikes you as terribly entitled, and you have the mind to toss it away and forget about it—but, skimming your eyes over the message again, you hesitate. 

Despite the novel being released a few weeks ago, this is the only letter you have received to pick up your writing technique: using differences in the pronunciation of kanji to suggest alternative meanings to the phrase; implying hidden messages through synonyms which, though identical in meaning, contain different radicals to the alternative word. Whoever the sender of the message is, they must have an acute eye for detail—a quality you can respect. Perhaps this mystery reader of yours is worth a moment or two.

You walk to your desk and unthinkingly pen another verse:

—All one must do is listen

You hardly know where to leave the reply—it is not as if your messenger has indicated their whereabouts, beyond ‘currently being in town’—yet somehow you trust that it will find its intended recipient. You pin it in a corner of the local noticeboard, and think no more of it for the rest of the day.

——————

—To hear the rustle.

Penned in the same elegant handwriting, this is the new line which has joined the previous verse when you pass by the noticeboard on the following day. You remove the letter and take it back to your home, where you spend a few moments considering how to respond. 

Your reply, as you pin it back up, reads thus:

—Verses penned by unknown hand 

The next day, another line:

—Anonymity’s respite.

And so is your first complete stanza concluded. You thumb the edge of the translucent paper, considering how next to proceed. 

Of course, the first thought to arise is that there is no need to ‘proceed’ with this game whatsoever: you have fulfilled this reader’s request at no great benefit to yourself, and there is no obligation compelling you to elaborate upon it further. You could end this playful exchange now and feel hardly the worse for it. 

And yet, that peculiar hook, on which your career and passions are founded—that irresistible inclination named ‘curiosity’—has taken hold somewhere within you, is tugging you gently in the direction of the mystery. You wish to know more of this enigmatic admirer of yours; you wish to know why something about him (you feel, somehow, that it is a ‘him’) feels almost familiar. If nothing else, you enjoy the creative interplay. 

You raise your brush to the page, and continue the poem. 

—Where is respite found?

—Asks the cowering sinner

You read over the line once, twice. Something, a niggling feeling in the deeper recesses of your mind, is beckoning to you, inviting you to wonder at this choice of words.

It feels like your partner is hinting at you, playing with you much in the same way you do with your own audience. You wonder what the clue may be, return to the previous lines you have composed together, come to a tentative hypothesis. 

You think you know the direction in which to guide this inquiry. 

—Shed of virtue’s mask

—Like young blossoms in summer

—Trembling in fear of cyclones.

You return the letter to the noticeboard. Over a week has passed already; what began as a favour on a whim has grown into a routine, even a commitment. 

There is room yet remaining on the paper for one more stanza; one final chance to crack the code, to solve the puzzle laid out for you. This method itself, you acknowledge, is a clue. 

You feel much like Hasegawa, the protagonist of A Thousand Boughs of Sakura; reading between the lines and hunting down scant hints to identify the criminal before it is too late. (In your novel, the criminal turns out to be an old acquaintance.)

The difference is that you are no detective; merely an author, a poet. Your skills reside in capturing the immaterial, not assimilating the real. 

Even so, the opening line of the final stanza gives you confidence that you are on the right track.

—What is a cyclone?

—But that which intuits vice 

—Wielding intellect 

—Catching arrows with bare hands

—Leaving no buds to fester.

My, what a beautiful poem we have composed! Our hearts must truly beat in harmony with one another. Your intellect is as sharp as I remember. 

Midnight, tonight. I will see you at the usual spot.

——————

The letter does not specify where you are to meet, nor does it need to. Since childhood, there has only been one location you frequented enough for its significance to become instinctual. You head toward the coastline, where there grows a certain sakura tree overlooking the shore, identified by its gnarled trunk which is twisted with age. 

There is a reclining silhouette already outlined against the tree when you arrive. Perhaps the details have changed here and there—the height, the clothing—but the figure itself, you could not mistake for the world. 

In unmarked silence, you join Shikanoin Heizou beneath the sakura tree. 

For a time, neither of you speak. What is there to say? You have not seen each other in years. Circumstances, not to mention your own selves, have altered within the rift of time you have spent apart. The last time you met was in the early moments of adulthood, when he took on the mantle of a detective and your aptitude for writing began to raise you into company higher than anticipated. 

Thinking back on it now, you never said a proper goodbye; he simply had to leave one day, and subsequently you drifted out of each other’s lives through no devices of your own, as a cloud disperses into smaller fragments and is scattered on the wind. You never received any letters from him, either; it did not occur to you to send one of your own (and if you had, how were you to know where to send it?). But you never forgot him—Archons, never. 

The fact that he is here now gives you hope that he did not forget about you, either. 

The silence grows, deepens, becomes uncomfortable. Somebody will have to take the first step; and this time, it is your turn. You run your tongue over dry lips. 

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Heizou.”

For all of your usual eloquence, any skill with words has abandoned you now. You feel exposed and frightfully inexperienced, like you are sitting at an empty page in your father’s study, wondering how to compose your first haiku. 

He smiles, and the world is stable again. “Not much of a surprise, I’m afraid. You figured me out.”

“You wanted me to,” you reply, and you find yourself falling into a rhythm of effortless exchange similar to the renga game—except this time, you are not separated by ink and paper, but face to face. The interaction feels easy, like the rift of time between you is nothing at all. 

You ask, “What were your reasons for approaching me through letters, rather than directly? Diverting as your puzzles were, surely it should have been far simpler to greet me in person, not wait until now.”

“I couldn’t risk speaking with you any earlier, for both of our sakes. Until recently I was part of an undercover investigation, and had I been recognised, the confidentiality of the case may be compromised. And on your end, I figured it would be embarrassing for somebody of such high standing as yourself to be seen hanging around somebody like me.”

Something is off. His explanation is sound, but there’s a matter he hasn’t addressed. “A letter signed with one’s name alone ought to be privacy enough—yet it was your choice to remain anonymous,” you point out.

Another smile lifts the corner of his mouth, this time a touch meek. His eyelashes lower as he glances downwards. “Would you rather the honest answer, or the one which will flatter me?”

“Offer me first the flattery,” you propose, “and only the honesty if I fail to decipher the truth myself.”

“My intention was to test your discernment. I remember our childhood battles of wits fondly, but after such a long time, I wasn’t sure how your character held up. So much time spent in high society can change somebody; I wanted to know whether you were still the same person I knew before taking any action to introduce myself.”

“Am I still the same person?” you ask out of interest. 

“Of course you are.” The reply is so quick, comes so naturally, that it warms you. 

So, that is the flattery. 

You scrutinise the man in front of you; his posture (the way he leans against the tree trunk, yet drums his fingers on the wood), his expression (how his eyes glance between you and the floor, like he’s just as shy and skittish as you are, perhaps even more so), his explanation (which is obviously false—he read your works, meaning he must have been aware at least to an extent of your personal development).

“And the truth,” you conclude after a careful period of reflection, “is that you were afraid. Afraid that, after all this time, I would hold towards you feelings of contempt for leaving so abruptly. You did not sign your name in fear that my knowing your identity would provoke me to be hostile, or to rebuke your advances.”

“And would you have done so?” 

“I never thought ill of you, Heizou,” you say. When you say his name, his eyes widen by a touch, brighten a little. “Not once, even if I tried to. And…” You sigh, leaning back against the tree beside him. “You may comfort yourself with the fact that I was afraid, too.”

Heizou looks away, in thought. Silence settles upon you once more. This time, you are comfortable in it. Yes; there is comfort in having Heizou standing beside you once again, close enough that, should you wish, you could…

(He flexes his hand, and you know you are thinking of the same thing. Neither of you act. It’s still too soon, too hasty, to go there yet. You want to get to know him again, from the beginning, before going there.) 

“Is it really true, that you read all of my novels?” you blurt. 

“Every single one,” he replies in earnest. 

You scratch your neck. “Was it… ahem, was it obvious that Hasegawa was based on you?”

“I did notice some similarities, yes,” Heizou admits with a chuckle. “In fact,” he continues, a smirk beginning to creep onto his face, “if my memory serves me correctly, you describe him as handsome no less than seven times.”

Heat rushes to your face. You cough into your first, and Heizou laughs again, the sound full and bright and everything you’ve missed in the last few years of your life. 

“Don’t worry—you were subtle in every other part of the story. I wasn’t exaggerating in my initial praise, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such attention to detail in the narration as well as the plot itself. It really is extraordinary.” 

You’re accustomed to receiving praise from fan letters and colleagues, but getting it from Heizou feels different, somehow; it feels more valuable, more real. “Thank you,” you smile, suddenly all bashful and self-conscious again. He smiles back. You have to look away.

“What do you plan to do now, then?” you ask, changing the subject to something less involved with yourself. “I assume your incredibly-confidential, undercover-agent case is over.”

“I’ve been considering staying here for a while—until another case comes up, at least.” Now he’s the one to look away. A slight hint of red dusts his cheeks, a shyness reveals itself in the upturned corners of his lips, and his voice takes on a softer, more self-conscious note. “This might be a little presumptuous of me, but… I was thinking that I could stay with you. If you’d have me.” 

Your reply is so quick, comes so naturally, that it warms you. 

[late-to-the-party-81]

His little dolly

AN: Here we go, party-people. Here is the third part of my DBF Steve, officially making it a Series by the rules of Jen. This is actually based on the original idea by the lovely @krissy25 which started the whole thing off. It also actually adds some plot, which I was not expecting. It is, however, still absolute filth

Beta’d by @endlesstwanted, wrangler of commas

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@steverogersbingo  - C3 - Free Space

Master list | SRB Master list | Series Master list

Summary: You have to try and control yourself when your parents and you spend the day helping Steve building his new deck. The evening, however, is a different matter.

Relationship: DBF Steve x Inexperienced Reader

Word count: 4.3k

CW: AU: No Powers, Age difference (Steve 40s, Reader early 20’s), Soft Dark Steve, Power Imbalance, Secret relationship, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Unprotected PIV Sex (reader on BC), Pussy slapping, Breath-play, Under-negotiated kink, Mild Angst, Implied Somnophilia, Implied Cum eating, Steve Rogers Dirty Talk, Bimbo-fication.

This was going to be torture. You were going to be spending the whole day with Steve, which on the surface, sounded like a dream - you only usually spent snatched moments together. However, your parents were also going to be there this time. 

Your Dad had gleefully announced three days ago that you’d all be spending Saturday at Steve’s house, having a cook-out while he and Steve worked on renovating Steve’s deck. So here you were, in the backseat of your Dad’s car as he drove the couple of miles across town to get there. You’d be so near but so far, and you had no idea how you were going to keep it together, especially since you hadn’t seen him in a week and he was still in possession of your toy-box.

The car lurched as your Dad pulled up outside Steve’s house, braking a little too hard, and you could almost hear his eyes roll as your Mom clicked her tongue at him. As they both got out of the car you put your best game face on and joined them. 

It was a warm day, and determined not to be labelled as a ‘useless woman’ you’d eschewed your normal hot weather wardrobe of a sundress. Instead you’d put on sturdy sneakers, some denim shorts and a baggy sleeveless tee, intending to help out with Steve’s renovations. You hoped that if you were busy, you’d be able to distract yourself from being so close to what you wanted.

That plan went straight out the window almost immediately. The three of you walked up the path, but instead of heading to the front door your Dad veered off toward the gate that went directly into the back yard. He pushed it open, holding it for you and your Mom, and you followed her through it. 

You came to a grinding halt as all thoughts were driven from your head.

Steve had already started working, and he must have been at it for a while because he’d already discarded his shirt and had a sheen of sweat over his body.

Your mouth went dry and you barely noticed the way you pressed your thighs together, your clit already throbbing with arousal. He looked like a god come to life.

Yes, you’d seen him naked more than once, but you’d never seen him like this in the bright light of day, just looking so masculine. Was there a name for this kink? The urge to just lick the sweat from his pecs was almost overwhelming.

“Sweetie? Are you okay?” Your Mom’s voice pulled you back into reality.

“Umm, yeah. I - uuh - just got something in my eye.” You blinked rapidly and rubbed at your right eye to bring credence to your story, but it seemed that your Mom wasn’t fooled. She leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. 

“He is rather distracting, I’ll grant you.”

“Mom!” You felt your cheeks flame with embarrassment, and looked around to see if either your Dad, or god forbid Steve, had heard. “You can’t say things like that,” you hissed out.

Your Mom just gave you a wink. “Married, not dead, sweetie. Just don’t look at boys your own age like that - they might take it the wrong way and try to take advantage.”

You bit your tongue, desperately hoping she wouldn’t work out your secret just by looking at your face. Luckily you were saved by an unlikely ally when your Dad shouted out for your Mom’s attention as he tried to locate his tool belt. “I’m gonna go and get the cooler from the car,” you shouted, desperate for a few moments alone to compose yourself.

Spending all day with Steve was one thing, but spending it with him when he was topless, his skin kissed by the sun, and with him letting out little grunts of effort that reminded you too much of other noises? Well, you’d be lucky not to just orgasm on the spot and then the game would be up.

You jogged back down Steve’s front path to where your Dad’s car was parked at the curb. You popped the trunk, and were just leaning into it to lift out the cooler full of beer and meat for the cookout when a shadow fell over you.

You whirled around, coming straight into eye contact with the physique you’d just been admiring.

“Hey, Babydoll. You look a little warm. Something got you all flustered?” The way he teased you normally got you going, but given the current situation it just made you cross. You stepped away, needing space to breathe, and looked over at his smirking face. At least he’d thrown his shirt back over his shoulders, but it wasn’t buttoned and his chest was just there. 

“You’ve done this on purpose,” you ground out, trying not to raise your voice and catch your parents’ attention.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” Steve drawled mockingly, as he reached into the trunk and effortlessly picked up the cooler. “I just got a bit overheated while working and needed to strip off. Surely, you can understand that. And anyway, I’m just your Dad’s friend - not your type in any case.”

“Fuck you!” you whispered, full of both anger and arousal. 

Steve stepped back up onto the sidewalk heading back towards his house, but he paused as he passed you, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “Later, Babydoll. Later. And don’t go touching yourself when you go to the bathroom. I’ll know if you do…”

He walked away, and you gave yourself a few seconds to take in some deep breaths before following him back into his yard. He was already talking to your Mom when you got there, back to being the genial friend of the family.

“Thank you for bringing over the food and agreeing to come help out. I expected it to just be me and Twinkle-toes over there.” He jerked his head in your Dad’s direction, who pouted at the nickname, and your Mom threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Steve. You’re like family. You know we think of you like a brother.”

Steve glanced over at you, and the look you saw in his eyes was in no way ‘uncle-like’. You shivered and tried not to think of all the things the two of you had done - things that would probably make your Mom faint and your Dad go apoplectic. 

There was only one way you were going to get through this day, so purposefully ignoring Steve you strode over to where your Dad was looking at the decking planks, a measuring tape in hand and a carpenter’s pencil between his teeth.

“How can I help?” you asked, and got stuck in.

Your plan worked to a certain extent. At least while you were helping your Dad measure and cut, or helping your Mom prepare the food for the grill. However, everytime you thought you had your equilibrium back on an even keel, Steve seemed to somehow know and would make a point of brushing past you or would stand in your eye line. He’d then tip his head back and drink from his beer, uncaring if any errant drops spilled from his mouth and trickled down his throat and chest. A few times you were tempted to disobey him - go to his bathroom and relieve the tension building in your core. You even wondered if you could sneak off to his bedroom and use his pillow to get yourself off, but you weren’t that brave.

The hours passed by fast despite each minute feeling like an eternity, and it was with a sense of pride that you realised that your assistance had actually been useful - Steve’s deck was almost complete. The railings on one side still needed to be put into place and the protective wood stain needed to be added, but all in all it was a success. 

Now you were all relaxing on loungers, having filled up on burgers, wieners and your Mom’s potato salad, sipping on the remaining beers. 

Your parents and Steve had been talking about local goings-on while you’d been daydreaming when Steve directed a question to you.

“So, d’you think you’ll have the energy to meet up with your girlfriends after all your efforts today?”

For a moment you were confused. You had no plans after this, let alone with any girlfriends, but then a lightbulb came on in your head. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve just gotta check if they still wanna go out. They weren’t sure, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it,” you turned to your parents, hoping they found it plausible. Your Dad just waved his hand.

“You’re a grown up now, sweetie. You don’t need to account for your movements to us. We know you’re sensible. And it won’t be too long now before you spread your wings and leave the nest completely - get that job you’ve been dreaming of.”

“Oh,” said Steve with interest. “What job is that?”

“Hasn’t she told you?” Your Mom sat forward in her chair, full of excitement. “She’s got an interview for an internship at Walker Industries. Our baby’s on the up and up.”

“Mom,” you groaned. “It’s not that glamorous. It’s really just glorified data entry.”

“But it’s a big company,” your Mom argued back. “International. And you’re smart and ambitious. You’ll be working your way up in no time.”

Neither her or your Dad seemed to notice how quiet Steve had gone - how his now dark gaze was settled squarely on you -, but you did and you couldn’t work out what it meant. Then, with a smack of his hands on his thighs, Steve stood up.

“Well, it’s been a long day and I really do appreciate the help and the company, but if Little Miss Social Life here has something planned, I’d best let you go.”

Your Dad looked at his watch and gasped, making some comment about time flying, and then you were all caught up in a flurry of activity and goodbyes. Your Dad checked he had all his tools and your Mom made sure she had all her food containers, despite Steve’s insistence he should keep them to wash up and return at another point. Ten minutes later, you were all back in the car heading home.

Twenty minutes after that you were under the shower, washing the sweat and dirt of the day off yourself and trying to ignore how every nerve ending in your body was on fire from the anticipation of what was to come. In another forty minutes, you’d tried on and discarded various different outfits, trying to find just the right one. It was proving difficult because your parents thought you were going out with the girls, so your outfit had to reflect that, but at the same time Steve preferred a certain aesthetic on you - loving you in little sundresses and flirty skirts. However, having emptied most of your meagre wardrobe over your bed and your floor, you finally settled on something that you hoped would work - a hot pink dress with spaghetti straps and skirt that swirled when you moved. You slicked on some light make-up, again trying to strike the balance right, grabbed your purse and jogged down the stairs.

You shouted a hurried ‘good-bye’ to your parents, who were cuddled up on the couch sleepily watching one of their favourite police procedural dramas, and finally made your way out of the door. While walking down the darkening sidewalk, your jacket slung over your arm, you checked your phone. You’d sent Steve an estimate of when you’d be ready and hoped he’d be waiting for you at the end of the block. There was no response to the text you’d sent to the number saved under ‘Janice’, and you started to feel nervous until you turned the corner and saw the vehicle you’d been on the lookout for.

Feeling a bit giddy, you skipped over, opening the passenger door and sliding in beside Steve. You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. He looked back at you, indulgently, and licked his lips.

“You look like a doll come to life, sweetheart.”

You preened under his praise. “I’m glad you like it,” you replied, smoothing the hot pink fabric over your legs.

“If I was less of a gentleman, I’d have my way with you here and now,” he growled, dramatically.

“And if you were more of a gentleman, I wouldn’t even be here,” you teased back.

“Brat,” he replied with a chuckle and a warning pinch to your thigh. “Behave.”

“Yes, Steve.” You pouted and batted your eyelids, and he chuckled again before putting his car in drive and peeling away from the curb. As he drove, you gave him sideways glances, studying his profile as you hummed to the music on the stereo and tapping your hands on your lap. The streetlights helped to highlight the streaks of grey at his temples, and you longed to run your fingers through it. You just had to be patient, though - it wouldn’t be long until Steve had you spread out on his bed and you’d have the chance to do just that.

Heat started to pool within you, the anticipation making you fidgety, and you let out a sigh of relief when Steve steered the car up his drive and into his garage. As soon as he killed the engine, he was making his way around your side of the car to open the door. He helped you out and then immediately took your face in his large hands, laying a demanding kiss on you. You squeaked briefly in surprise before leaning into it, your hands fisting his shirt for balance. You’d worn higher heels than normal and weren’t used to the change in your centre of gravity. 

Steve smiled against your lips, sliding his hands down your body until he grasped your ass and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up, and dug your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He walked across the garage but didn’t take you through the door into the main house, instead heading out into his backyard. He lowered you slowly, your bodies sliding against each other until your feet hit the new planks.

“Why are we out here, Steve? We spent all day on this damn thing.”

He smiled at you in the moonlight. “Exactly, Babydoll. You helped me build it, so now you have to help me christian it.”

You cocked your head at him, brows furrowed, and then realisation hit. “Oh!”

Steve pulled you back into his embrace. “Oh, indeed,” he said, and then he lowered his mouth to yours again, demanding entrance and acting as though he was going to devour you. You gave back as good as you got, feeling desperate for his touch. “Today was so hard,” he muttered against your lips. “Every time you bent over in those shorts, fuck. There were moments where I almost didn’t care that your parents were here. I wanted to rip them from you and take you right here.”

“‘Wasn’t any easier for me,” you murmured back. “My Mom saw me staring at you - I think she thinks I’ve got a crush on you. Warned me not to look at boys my age the way I look at you.”

“As if you’d dare,” came the jesting reply.

Steve’s hand skimmed down your side until it reached the hem of your dress. It made its way under, his palm sliding over your thigh working its way up to your hip where it stopped, and he pulled back from your kiss.

“Sweetheart, have you come out without any panties on?”

You peered up at him, coyly from under your lashes. “Maybe…” It was your turn to smirk.

“Fuck,” he barked and then dropped straight to his knees, his hands throwing up your skirt so he could grasp your naked ass and pull you onto his face. His tongue found its way, unerring, between your folds and straight to your clit, giving you no time to prepare yourself.

“Steve!” you screeched before biting down on your lip, and grabbing hold of his head as you tottered on your heels. “Oh god!”

He was like a man possessed, slurping lewdly at your sex and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out of your spasming cunt. It was a vicious onslaught of pleasure that left you dizzy and out of breath. When he pressed two of his fingers inside of you without warning, you had to let go of him with one hand so you could bite down on the base of your thumb to stop from screaming in ecstasy. “Give it to me, Babydoll. I need you to make a mess.”

He stroked that special spot inside of you without pause, and sucked on your clit as your legs shook. There was a heavy feeling inside your core, like the building of an orgasm but different, as he kept up his pleasurable torture.

“Steve!” You gasped. “I…I’m gonna…what’s happening?”

He didn’t answer, just kept up what he was doing, driving you closer to the brink and also towards something unknown. When you came, it was with a massive release of pressure. Your body jerked in his hold, your eyes rolled up and you felt a wet flood between your legs. You heard Steve moan into your cunt, and then you heard the patter of liquid onto the wood between your feet. You felt like you were flying and sinking at the same time.

“What the fuck?” You slurred as Steve slowly rose back to his feet.

“You squirted, sweetheart. So fucking sexy.”

“I what?” You squeaked, unbelieving. “But isn’t that…” A feeling of shame started to wash over you, but Steve interrupted it, pressing one of his fingers to your lips.

“Yes, but also no. Don’t think too much about it, honey. It’s nothing to be ashamed of - it’s natural. Just means you were really turned on, and let me tell you, it’s quite the ego boost to do that to you. Made me even harder.”

His eyes narrowed and he took hold of your hand, so much smaller than his and placed it over the bulge in his jeans.

“It’s gonna make it a lot easier for me to slip inside that tight pussy of yours too. She’s so wet, ‘m gonna just slide right in. And fuck, it’s gonna make some beautiful sounds. Would you like that, Babydoll? Want me to stuff this fat cock into your hungry cunt? See if I can make you squirt again?”

His words hypnotised you and you groped at his cock, staring up at him with your mouth wide open and your eyes glazed with lust. Fuck, you could feel your cum running down your bare thighs. “Please,” you begged, your tone husky and full of need.

As if you were a rag doll, Steve steered you backwards until your back hit one of the completed portions of railing. He spun you to face it and then plastered himself against your back. The heat of him burned through your dress, and his breath tickled your ear. “I’m gonna take you right here and you’re gonna be good for me and take it. You’re gonna be quiet too - we don’t want Mrs Kennedy next door coming out to find out what’s going on.”

You heard the metallic snick of his fly being lowered and your eyes fluttered closed. Steve’s foot tapped yours and you widened your stance, taking hold of the railing for stability. Slowly, he pulled your skirt up above your hips and his cock nudged against your naked ass. Steve placed his left hand, fingers splayed over your stomach, holding you right where he wanted you as he guided his cock to the entrance of your cunt and then pressed in with one hard thrust.

You choked back your cry, your fingers tightening their grip on the wood in front of you.

“Good girl,” Steve praised, and he started to fuck into you with long, firm strokes. “Such a perfect little dolly, just for me.”

His right hand came up to the straps of your dress and bra, lowering them down your arms so he could free your breasts. The cool evening air blew across you, making your nipples peak, and you moaned low in your throat as Steve rolled each of them in turn, plucking and pulling at them in a way that was both painful and oh-so-good.

He fucked you languidly, building you up slowly. His left hand moved down and he drew lazy circles over your clit - enough to have you whimpering with need, but not enough to bring you to orgasm.

“I’m gonna fuck you just like this - slow and deep - until you feel like you’re gonna burst. I want you to come on me and fucking soak my cock like you did my hand. I want your cum to splatter all over this fucking deck. I want you to feel so much pleasure that you never want to look at another man.”

Your mind was hazy with lust, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. “Don’t want anyone but you, Steve. Make me feel so good.”

A small change in the angle of Steve’s thrusts had his cock rubbing over your g-spot the same way his fingers had earlier. The feeling of your orgasm building still felt strange, but at least you knew what to expect. You just didn’t know how you were going to stay silent, though.

He cruelly twisted one of your nipples just as he thrust forward and reedy warble left your throat. Steve responded by slapping your clit, and even as the sharp pain registered you heard the wet squelch as he did so, your squirt already starting to seep out of you as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“I said to stay quiet,” he hissed.

The pressure inside you was rising once more, and you knew you were close. “I don’t think I can,” you whined, and your body convulsed as he fucked into you. “I’m so close. Please, Steve. I… I…”

“Aawww, does my Babydoll need help?”

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to comprehend how he was going to do it. 

Steve took his left hand from your clit and trailed the back of his knuckles up your side, then settled it around the base of your throat. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled in your ear.

“Yes,” was your whispered response. You trusted him with your life.

“Then take over touching that pretty clit for me and just relax.”

You let go of the railing with your right hand and did as he asked, feeling how soaked you were as you started to play with your clit. As you started to crest higher, unable to hold back little pleasures squeaks, Steve resettled his left hand on your throat and began to lightly squeeze. Your noises stopped as your airway was constricted. Everything within you was concentrated on the feeling building in your cunt, and as black spots began to form in front of your eyes, your body began to tremble.

When Steve let go of your neck, your orgasm exploded out of you. His hand immediately clapped over your mouth, leaving you to breathe out your scream through your nose as you jerked on his cock like a puppet on a string. The gush of liquid that erupted from your cunt flooded over your hand and onto the deck like a waterfall.

“Fucking god,” Steve exclaimed, the movement of his hips finally speeding up as he chased his own release inside your spasming channel, adding his own cum to the sticky mess leaking from you. 

You collapsed against him, unsure how you were even still upright after that. Another whimper left you as Steve pulled himself from your body, but he immediately scooped you up in his arms and carried you inside, walked up the stairs, and placed your exhausted body on his bed. When he didn’t immediately lie down next to you, you blinked your eyes open. “Steve?”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart,” he assured, and you watched as he pushed down his jeans and briefs. Your eyes widened when you realised they were sodden.

“Oh my god! Did I do that?”

Steve grinned as he climbed naked onto the bed and crawled over you. “You did and don’t you dare apologise. Whenever I wear them from now on I’ll think of you and how fucking sexy you are. Now you rest for a bit. I have more plans for you, and I need to make sure you get home at a plausible time.”

You pouted as you took in his words. This was the thing you really hated about your relationship - if you could call it that -, you couldn’t just curl up next to him and stay the night the way you wanted to. Would you ever be able to be open about your relationship, or was it doomed from the start?

However, your body was totally wrung out from Steve’s ministrations, and it wasn’t long until you fell into a doze, your body pressed up against his.

Steve looked down at you as you took your rest. You looked so innocent - so young - as you slept. He shouldn’t want you this much, but he did, even if he’d go to hell for it. He’d burn the world for you. 

When your mother had announced you were hoping to work for Walker Inc, it had taken all of his self control not to stand up and forbid it. Who was he to do so? Besides, it wasn’t your fault that Walker was a grade A ass-hole. 

Steve had no doubt that you’d ace the interview, so he’d just have to hope that the CEO didn’t notice you. If he did, the sleazeball would have no qualms about trying to take advantage of you. A little voice inside his head pointed out that he’d already done just that. He batted it aside. The difference was that he cared for you. Walker cared about nothing but himself.

You let out a sleepy little noise as you snuggled into his side and he turned back to you. He’d give you another half an hour, and then he was planning to feast on your messy pussy. That should wake you up with a smile. Then he’d watch you bounce on his cock, like the little dolly you were.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

[valentine-cafe]

Can i have an order of hourabiethes please?

There's a thought stuck in my head; what if reader, perhaps naive but so caring, tried to struck a deal with Valerius, not caring what happened to them, in order to protect someone else they cared for, like, a friend? Only for Valerius to find out how that "friend" didn't care for the reader afterall and was in fact deceiving them? Does it make sense...

. ˚◞♡ demon lord x gn reader ꒰ the hex demon rhytaari ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ valerius / gn reader ꒱ you make a deal with a demon to save those you care for - but what happens when your loved ones have betrayed you? and more improtantly - how will the demon react?

𖹭. content warnings◞  slight dark at end . 0.5k

𖹭. receipts◞  we understand! hope you enjoy<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. it was right up his alley to accept a deal like this. the sadistic part of him wishing to make you suffer for wishing to protect those close to you. valerius has always had quite the malicious heart for these types of deals. so of course he readily accepted it with fake kindness and all sorts of sugar-coated promises.

𖹭. however, when he went on to observe this so called friend of yours, a part of him did not sit well when he discovered that they are not what you thought them out to be. the way that they talk behind your back. the way that the give you fake smiles. how they only use you for what they can but in reality want nothing to do for you.

𖹭. and seeing how earnest you were in wanting to protect them. you, you compassionate, gold-hearted fool. willing to make a deal with a lord of demons if it meant keeping such a scum safe. he felt something that he had not felt in awhile. sympathy.

𖹭. congratulations - you got the demon rhytaari to actually care. even if it was just a smidge. he’d stay around and keep his end of the deal at first. well, slightly. he’d make sure to keep them safe yet in doing so they would only run into further trouble. and this was not even him trying to hurt you - oh no. it was to get them out of your life as quickly as possible.

𖹭. when you cried to him about how he was not holding his end of the deal, he’d merely cup your face and tilt it up to look at him. crooning on about how you shouldn’t question a demon. let alone trust them for their word.

𖹭. but something struck him about your tears. something that frightened him. he decided that enough games had been played and instead appeared before your friend. demonically, too. a simple sweet threat that they end the friendship themselves and stop their two-faced schemes. he’d frightened the ever living soul out of them.

𖹭. of course he was there to take you into his arms when you wept over the texts that your friend had sent you. ending the friendship you had for years. the demon would all you in his arms. pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and raking a hand down your back.

“worry not. I shall keep you safe instead.”

you understood not what he meant. yet enjoyed the comfort of his touch. the caress of his tender lips on your skin.

the last thing you expected was to become a demon’s favourite. it seems to have quite the perks. perhaps you do have something to thank you ex friend for after all . . .

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[bobfloydsbabe]

eccentric professor bob floyd (historical romance version) sneak peek

Encouraged by my wonderful friends @withahappyrefrain and @ryebecca, I present you a sneak peek at the historical romance AU fic I'm working on for Eccentric Professor Bob and Imogen. I shared the beginning of this for a tag game a couple of days ago, but I've added more to it since then. Enjoy ✨

“Who’s there?”

The flickering candle comes closer, and slowly, the holder’s dark doe eyes come into his line of sight, along with long wavy hair and soft-looking skin.

“Lady Imogen,” he says when she stops a few paces away. 

“Professor,” she greets, one brow quirked. “What brings you here at this time of night?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Her breathy chuckle fills the quiet library. “So you could,” she agrees. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get something to read.”

“I had the same thought,” he admits. He’s trying not to look at her state of undress, but his eyes travel down to her simple cotton nightgown, and his breath hitches. She’s not wearing a dressing gown.

Imogen seems unfazed by his wandering eye.

“Did you find something advanced enough to challenge your mind, Professor?”

He drags his gaze back to her face. “Not yet,” he says. “Perhaps you have a recommendation?”

In the candlelight, her mouth turns up in a smile that makes her keen eyes sparkle. Humming, she scans the shelves he’s standing in front of, inspecting the titles and writers, and he wonders, not for the first time, where she’s been hiding all his life.

Knowing of her is one thing, but knowing her is something else entirely. He longs to touch her. To feel her skin against his, the taste of her tongue, the sounds she’d make when he gives her pleasure. He wants all of it but is entitled to none of it.

He aches in a way he’s never done before.

“Ah,” she says, having spotted something interesting on the shelf. She reaches past him, her breast grazing his chest as she stands on her tiptoes to reach. Despite the fabric separating them, every cell in his body’s on fire, and the blood that first rushed to his head now travels south to his cock.

If her breast through cotton does this to him, he’s afraid of what would happen if he touched her bare skin.

Unaware of his internal crisis, Imogen grasps the book she’d spotted and settles back on her feet. She studies the leather-bound book for a moment. “I’m surprised the Countess even has a copy of this. She does not strike me as someone with a vested interest in the subject.”

“Perhaps the Earl added it to the library,” he says without knowing what book it is and takes a step away to put some distance between them.

“The Earl is a dear friend of my father’s, but he is not an intelligent man,” Imogen explains. “The Countess is a brilliant woman. I am quite certain it was she who acquired it.”

Imogen offers the book to him. He snatches it out of her hand quickly, hoping she won’t look at him too long and notice the extra limb throbbing in his trousers.

He opens to the title page, brow furrowing when he realizes the book she’s recommended to him. His head whips up.

“I’m sure you’ve already read it,” she says, looking uncertain for the first time since she joined him. “Darwin makes a compelling argument. I wrote him a letter with a list of questions, but never received a reply. I’m sure he thinks me a feebleminded woman who won’t understand the complexities of his theory.”

Robert closes the book. “If Darwin thinks you feebleminded, he is a fool.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @kmc1989, @bluezraven, @seitmai, @roosterforme, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @auroraseddie, @cherrycola27, @keyrani, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @sio-ina-bottle, @hangmanapologist, @bradshawsbaby, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bcarolinablr, @xoxabs88xox

[sleepi-toasti]

𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 ‼️

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yes i jus changed my whole blog appearance for like no reason whatsoever :3

I AM sleepi-toasti, my imgflip friends call me toasti, and my tumblr friends call me sleepi

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Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/They

Sexuality: Aroace

Fav colors: periwinkle, indigo, marigold orange, and black

Birthday: October 9th

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Fandoms/Interests (bc I am a silly multifandom :3):

(i fixate the most over the ones highlighted in purple and the ones w the star is the ones i post abt ^^)

Gacha life/Gacha club/Gacha life 2 ★

Madagascar ★

Mouthwashing

Inanimate Insanity

Helluva Boss

Murder Drones

TADC

Twenty one pilots (bc they're my favorite band teehee)

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GL2 OC Codes

Val (left): HCILILOF4

Kael (right): BKY89CT4T

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I mainly post abt my hyperfixation with Madagascar, my gacha ocs, and random capcut memes no one cares about lol

Alt blog: https://www.tumblr.com/sleepi-toasti-version2

I am also on imgflip:

Link: https://imgflip.com/user/sleepi_toasti

YOU ARE ALL WONDERFUL ✨✨✨✨✨

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my special tags are

toasti answers: me answering questions

toasti found a cool challenge and reblogged it: specifically for gacha challenges

toasti joined a tag game: when i join those tag games i love sm

toasti rambles: me doing randomess teehee

toasti rambles abt madagascar: yk 😼

toasti rambles about fandoms: other fandoms I'll yap abt

toasti rambles but seriously: serious posts or maybe even vents

toasti's ocs: my gacha ocs and other ocs

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MADAGASCAR AU LIST:

Villain AU

Gods and Goddesses AU

The Happiest Video Game on Earth [HVGOE] AU

New York Drones AU (the zoosters are disassembly drones and the rest of the characters are worker drones!; all of the animals are drones how they became drones idk they just are drones; the zoosters learn to not kill the other characters; considering if penguins have the solver or if mort does bc in ahkj lore he is like god; no none of the md lore is in this au, the animals are just drones :3)

Office AU

Madagascar 4

If Molly was Alive AU

Oneshots

Soulmate colors AU

Red string of fate AU

Zoochosis AU (wip)

The Carnival of Extreme Values AU

Singer-songwriter AU

Weirdcore AU

Star Melman AU (in this au, melman is the famous one instead of alex)

Original Gloria Concept AU (she was originally gonna be pregnant in the first movie but w this au i just GAVE HER a daughter (no the kid is not a melria fan child, ellie has a hippo dad but he died))

Original Gloria Concept AU × Star Melman AU (these two go so well together idk why- just the mom, the daughter, and the father figure they adopted who really doesn't have time for any of this but secretly enjoys their company)

Hippo Siblings AU (gloria and moto moto are siblings; melria and melmoto au)

Thieves AU

Genderbend AU

Humanized AU

Dragging Dolls AU (dark af (melman's dead but he's... not? and gloria sees him being alive and she tried to convince her friends but they still think he's dead) (and it's called dragging dolls bc gloria is still traumatized and is DRAGGING melman's dead body around) (and dw he does come back but melman and gloria stay friends despite their love for each other (melman's dead so a relationship isn't an option😭) )

Herbivores are Carnivores & Carnivores are Herbivores (HACCAH) AU

The zoosters all died in some way lmao AU

Goth/Emo Melman AU (everything is the exact same except melman is EMOOOO)

TØP AU (melman is a clikkie hehehe; assume the zoosters are anthropomorphic and wear clothes like the animals in sing)

Enemies to Lovers AU (everything is the exact same except melman and gloria hate each other :3)

What Is There To Live For [WITTLF] AU (just a bunch of angst - i don't fool w this one as much as i used to)

High school AU

Swap AU

Predator and Prey AU (my first au!; based off a potential fanfic of mine; marlex au)

Medical AU (YOOOOOO the zoosters went to med school AND NOW THEY'RE ALL DOCTORS YEAHHHHH)

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also uh have my old pfps

and my old banners

i think it was this image idk i have two or three versions of this exact frame 😭

this one fr only lasted two days lmao

[corvuscorona]

"You Never Forget Your First Love."

The other day, a mutual (hi! you know who you are I think probably hello hi! thank you for the Posting Impetus!) said something that made me curious (for, like, the 80th time, actually; lol. I Have Thoughts) about something: what's the split on people who subscribe to the "Stranger of Paradise probably intended for us to believe that Jack & Sarah were in love" mindset, vs. not? In general, but ESPECIALLY around these parts.

I genuinely didn't read it that way myself (& I do NOT normally give media (general) this much credit, but the writing in this game is sublime; I had no choice but to fully engage Scholar Mode on it), + I think it's interesting that SPECIFICALLY any of my fellow tumblr people / AO3-heads / Gay People Online / etc. seem to have. (I expect nothing from people who haven't been basting themselves in the same online sub-subcultures as me for over a decade. They're allowed to write wrong things on wikis, and have done so already; it's whatever.)

I wanna metapost badly again, so let's go. Join me. No poll. If you have an opinion on this, I'm looking directly into your eyes and beckoning you towards your own keyboard + also the reblog button / comment section, like a weird ghost. What did you think when you first played the game?? What do you think right now? What are you about to think after you have read a bunch of my words. Tell Me. I Need To Know This.

Spoilers for, idk, everything? Today we will use everything we've got to talk about Princess Sarah.

1. As a Narrative Element

This game makes a point of referring to Sarah as things like "a symbol of hope and peace" as often as possible, & when it isn't doing that she's usually in the role of An Object Or Device Of Some Kind, anyway. She's important because she's capable of holding light and dark in balance & SOMEONE'S gotta hold onto this dark crystal for safekeeping, and also we're gonna need to upset that balance on purpose later. There's that conversation in the Wicked Arbor about whether the Strangers would "choose" her (as opposed to "treasure") as the "reward" for succeeding in their mission[1], & there's the one in the Sunken Shrine where Jed asks Jack what he thinks of her and Jack says that he doesn't care about her as a person[2] BUT that protecting her is mission-critical (lol), too.

Sarah's death is metaphorically charged. It's the point of no return: the dark crystal breaks, the balance of light & dark gets extremely ruined, & Literally All The Darkness In Cornelia converges in one place (Fool's Missive XXVII). That's the payoff for the "symbol of hope and peace" motif, and communicating this idea that "the metaphorical light of hope just For Real Died, Like Catastrophically Imploded, No Take-Backs" feels to me like it was the highest priority here. Second-highest goes to "Jack had way more humanity before, but he set it aside on purpose and is actively in the middle of losing the rest of it." "Sort of." "I'm not getting into what counts as humanity or doesn't because if I did we would be here forever."

Basically, I'm saying that the tidiest read on the situation is "Jack despairs because Sarah dying means in a very literary and final way that everything is ruined forever, which doesn't necessarily have anything to do with, like, Love (romantic)." I don't think the text of the game is particularly signaling that Love (romantic) is involved, and I think that if it meant to, it would be more obvious about it. You could bundle "an romance" into the "humanity" thing if you wanted to, but I'm not inclined to, based on some additional list items that you can read below this one.

[1] The fact that Neon ALSO says she feels bad for her for being thought of in this way only reinforces my conviction that the game is pointing at Sarah & yelling "REMEMBER THAT SHE IS MOSTLY A SYMBOL!", tbh. Who wants to go point out how freaky the mechanics of Being An Royalty are w/ me and the boys??

[2] I will give the Wiki WrongPosters this: I can totally see this as some kind of irony thing, given that he's still missing like a fucktillion of his memories when he says it. However! As mentioned above, I have other reasons not to read it as evidence that he was ever, like, romantically interested in her.

2. As a Sheltered Youth™

We don't have a TON of information to work with RE: Sarah as, like, a person, but here are a couple of hard facts to start with: she's 19 (per the data book, but she'd have to be somewhere in the 18-to-early-20's age range regardless or her whole deal wouldn't really make much sense, imo. She's a baby...!), and she's royalty. I think this ties into her utility as a walking metaphor, among other things; she's archetypically young, fresh, & idealistic. I'd call her naïve but the game obviously isn't interested in portraying it as a weakness, so positive words only; why not.

You could argue that people look to her as a symbol of hope because she hasn't directly experienced enough strife to exhibit hopelessness or fear in response to bad news in the abstract. I find it interesting that before Jack, like, knocks the wind out of her & tells Sophia to take her outside so she can see for herself how bad things have gotten at the end of the game, she says that her duty is to die with her people if she has to, & it doesn't even seem to occur to her that she could lead at least some of them away to safety...? When she changes her mind, she still talks about herself as a symbol before she ever uses the word "leader". She sees HERSELF in terms of symbols and metaphors, and takes action based on her designated role As One Of Those. Not very practical.

There's also the dialogue you can have with the queen the first time you're allowed to run around in the throne room at the beginning of the game, where she asks Jack to smile in front of her daughters (NOT just Mia; daughters, plural). Even if she only means "dude can you be polite please," the fact that this is The thing she has to say to Jack is telling. Is it going to upset your 19-year-old daughter to see that the Guy Whose Job It Is To Kill Monsters looks serious? Why do you think this? Does your 19-year-old daughter understand how serious the situation is, generally speaking? Do you not WANT her to for some reason? Boats don't work anymore unless a weird elf messes with them first. Not thinking very hard about the implications of this is something a sheltered person does.

Residual time loop un-memories aside, a young woman in this situation is so obviously going to have a huge crush on Jack Garland no matter what. He Is So Cool, first of all, & he's also Different from the adult men she gets to see on an everyday basis (family, guards, rando townspeople[3]...). It's not like the political social scene could POSSIBLY be thriving in this world, either; it all seems to be one kingdom we're dealing with and they're kind of busy with the external threat of being Under Fucking Attack By Monsters. Does she even get fun treats like "handsome visiting dignitaries" & what-have-you? The game doesn't present us with any potential options, here. Jack is mysterious, he has special-boy Warrior of Light status, his one job & apparent life's purpose is protecting the kingdom she loves, he's pretty nice to her (even in later cycles he at least goes out of his way to be polite!), & additionally, he's shredded. THIS makes sense to me.

There's a Q&A in the data book that has something to say about JACK as a symbol & what that has to do with this whole thing but we'll get there. We'll get there.

[3] Tangent: what's up with how Cornelia's entire adult male population appears to consist of aging queens. Why did they only make models that look Like That for the NPCs? It's awesome but I have 1 quastion

3. JACK JUMPSCARE !

I'm not about to say that he's just humoring her, or anything, but please humor ME for one second & put yourself in Jack's shoes. Not the default shoes; we can have more fun than that. Maybe the Banded Boots. Blurple ones? Shaped like a cartoon would wear them? Big spikes on the back for no reason? I love those things. Anyway, you're Jack. You're working for literally the king, & the work means Everything to you for reasons you can't even necessarily explain except to say that it JUST does. The king's eldest daughter (very young adult; Never Been Outdoors; a little overly-sociable but nice enough & what do you expect from a princess, anyway) has imprinted on you like a duckling for whatever reason. You would be nice to this person, yes? You'd be patient with her while you're in town. You have Brutal Murders to be doing, but not until, like, 2 days from now, or whatever; you're sharing space with her in some capacity in the meantime & it's in your best interests to keep her happy. (You probably even enjoy doing this, if you're Jack of a Way Earlier Cycle; I'm in no way ruling that out. Sharing your music collection with an enthusiastic Baby Adult? That's fun. I think he was probably having fun. Okay, you can step out of the fun purple shoes if you want; the Humoring Me Minute has concluded; thanks.)

Also, @2000sanimeop and I think that if Jack felt that way about her Astos would have been a little More Something about how much it was gonna suck for him when she died. In Fool's Missive XXVII he uses the word "painful," but that's about it. He doesn't even bring it up in XXV, which is the one where he says he's curious about whether she'd survive being turned into a fiend (side note: Astos fucking rocks. Why did he write that down?? I love him). & Hey SPEAKING OF ASTOS,

4. I wouldn't put Jackstos on a wiki, either.

The writing in Stranger of Paradise, SERIOUSLY, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION, is some of the best I've seen in literally anything ever. It suits not just its medium but also its sort of Place in History Relative to Other Video Games & the things it chose to DO with that medium & that niche INSANELY well. It is CUSTOMIZED. It's SO INTENTIONAL. I can't get too far into this or we'll be here all day, but the essence of what I want to say here is: there are relatively few facts presented to us by this game, compared to the implications we can go about drawing from those facts & other, external sources of context.

Sarah calls Jack her first love; that's a fact. No facts are presented to us that REALLY say much one way or the other[4] about what Jack thinks of this, himself; "fucktillion memories missing" Jack says he doesn't care, but he's missing a fucktillion of his memories, and DLC2 Jack has a set of dialogue options (hi Anne the Malboro I love you Anne the Malboro) that can point either way depending on what the player chooses, which is kind of nothing, on balance. As the audience, we can (should!) draw whatever conclusion we want about it, but none of those conclusions are text.

[4] I WILL GET TO THE DATA BOOK IN ONE SECOND. HOLD ON.

And, okay, please let me level with you. Let's be on the same page. Jack & Astos had some kind of thing going on, imo, OBVIOUSLY, but I want to be CLEAR and I want to get CREDIT for the things I'M bringing to the table to help generate this conviction. I drew that conclusion & I read that reading based on subtext, context, personal history, personal preference, & sheer gay zest for life. It is also, emphatically, NOT TEXT.

Astos refers to Jack with the ol' "...friend" in Fool's Missive XXI. He calls him "my Jack" in Fool's Missive XXXI. Canonically, textually, he has some big fucking COMPLICATED fucking feelings about this man. These are facts. If you're playing this game as Some Guy, I can see how you could potentially absorb these facts & still pay them much less regard[5] than I did & continue to. My argument here is that god I wish I lived in a world where Some Guy could extend the same courtesy to me and not treat Sarah's textual affection for Jack as something that necessarily indicates Some Kind Of Reciprocal Romantic Whatever, Definitely, Obviously, Of Course.

[5] Longer Tangent: I have been informed that the Some Guys of the world are currently pretty good at Recognizing a character that behaves in a way that's Pretty Gay, but tend to stop there, possibly for the combined reasons that A. they're not very familiar with a lot of the the ways gay relationships often work (you know, soul resonance. mutual recognition. sharing a brain etc.) and B. the Object Of Affection is usually the player character and they subconsciously shy away from thinking of a Guy They're Supposed To Identify With as gay. This is practically a lead-in to an entire separate post I could make, so I'll leave it at that, lol.

The writing is too good for that kind of assumption! I'M SERIOUS!! It's mind-blowingly subtle & endlessly fascinating to hold up to the light & view from every possible angle, and "Jack & Sarah were in love" + "Jack & Astos were in love" are BOTH ANGLES. I'm personally very very interested in giving the text credit for that. I think it's impressive. I think it's really, really cool, and I think it was on purpose. Speaking of which,

5. Word of God agrees with me, btw

This is from the Q&A section on page 156 of the Confidential File. The translations below are my own (I think they're straightforward enough, but lmk if you know more than me & I'm actually being stupid in there somewhere. Alt text has the JPN, if you want to copypaste it or something). Someone asked:

Why is it that you established Garland as someone Sarah has a romantic interest in?

The answer is from Daisuke Inoue (director, one of 3; the other 2 are from Team Ninja; he's from Square Enix):

That was because, from a narrative standpoint, we wanted Sarah to be the kind of person who holds onto hope. You can imagine that she saw the "hope" to save the world in Jack, a potential Warrior of Light. Sarah is seen by her people as a symbol of a bright future, but if there were nobody to give her hope, that might destabilize her emotionally. As for whether she felt genuine love for Jack, or just mistook her feelings of admiration towards him for "first love," we'll leave that to your interpretation.

The first time I read this, I thought the question was implying the aforementioned Reciprocal Something, but on closer inspection that doesn't even seem to be true! "思い人" seems to indicate a directional relationship; as in, the question assumes that Jack is an object of affection to Sarah, but assumes nothing about what Jack thinks.

Also, the answer uses the word "初恋" (hatsukoi), which is a very established Concept as far as "first love" goes, but in that one cutscene, Sarah says "初めての恋" (hajimete no koi), which is. Different, but I couldn't tell you how, lol. It's Not The Exact Same Phrase, but I'm not sure whether it's meaningfully different in this context. If I had to guess, I'd say that IF ANYTHING it could be a way of saying "first love" without invoking the cultural CONSTRUCT of First Love (as much)? But it's whatever. The localization holds up. All sources show that Sarah had Feelings about Jack, and all sources CONSPICUOUSLY neglect to mention Jack's feelings about her.

It was on purpose. This is my license to be as annoying as I want for one second here. I am right. All the other writing in this game is notably subtle, efficient, intentional, and skilled, AND ALSO, WHEN do you ever see anyone write such a richly beautiful, mostly-subtextual relationship between two men, which can easily be read as a romantic thing, and NOT explicitly canonize a very possible romantic relationship between at least one of those men and a woman, like not even in an interview or anything. What the fuck, man.

I'm putting away the Respectable Scholar Hat now. This is so funny. The person asking this question didn't EVEN go as far as assuming Jack & Sarah had any kind of Actual Romance going on, & the answer STILL dials it back to "she might have been conflating her feelings about Jack AS A SYMBOL with actual affection, also. We'll let you decide : ) ". This game is everything ever.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Rooting for You

My first fic for the Magnus Archives! Like most people, being deep in Season 5 meant I was desperate to put them in a nice, soft, fluffy situation so please enjoy a full fic of my Martin playing rugby headcanon!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

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There were a lot of things John was willing to do for Martin. Pretty much anything, really.

He learned to love poetry. He let him answer a fraction of a second faster when they watched University Challenge together and a question Martin would know came up. He halved, then quartered, the amount of chili powder he usually put in his rogan josh, even though he could feel his grandmother’s disapproval radiating from beyond the grave. He even broke god knew how many HR rules when they fooled around in the archives’ stationary cupboard, after finding out it was a fantasy Martin had been nursing for years. 

John had done all of this for Martin and he’d do a hell of a lot more, without regrets. But he had to wonder if this was maybe asking a little much. 

It was just so bloody cold. 

Calling it a park would be generous, as John stood at the edge of it, shivering even in his coat and the scarf Martin knitted for him, it looked more like a muddy field. So much so that he had to check the address on his phone, just to be sure he was in the right place and hadn’t accidentally walked so far he was in the bloody Middle Ages. 

But no, this was apparently the place, confirmed when he saw Sasha waving at him from the sparse gaggle of equally cold people standing a little ways away, Melanie being one of them. John felt his heart sink, having to make himself trudge over there to join them. Now there was no chance he could make a break for it, lie and say the tube wasn’t running or he fell down a storm drain or something. No choice but to shove his gloved hands in his armpits and hope to get some feeling back in them as he walked over. 

“Is that Jonathan Sims out of his flat on a weekend? I must be dreaming,” Sasha’s grin was huge, beaming out at him from under the hat jammed low over her curls, another Martin creation, “Welcome to the WAGs!”

John blinked, “The what?”

Even from behind her dark glasses, John knew when Melanie was rolling her eyes at him. It was something in her voice. 

“Wives and girlfriends. Of the players. It’s a football term, John. Football is a game where people kick a ball around and try to get it in this thing called the goal, you might have glanced out of a window one time and seen people playing it…”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” John cut across her sarcasm with his own, “I’ve heard of it. I’ve also heard of rugby, which is the game our significant others actually play.”

“It’s just our little joke,” Sasha pointedly stood between them, a placating wall of a rainbow tweed coat, a bright smile and a pointed subject change, “So what made you decide to come along, John? Martin said we probably wouldn’t see you.”

John sighed, “You almost didn’t. It’s really not my thing, Martin said he was fine with that but…he was so nervous about his first match. Nervous enough that I thought he might pull out altogether and…well, me saying I’d be there seemed to make him feel better.”

His cheeks were already reddening even before Melanie chucked and Sasha cooed, “That’s so sweet, John! Just for that, you can share my thermos.”

“It better be spiked,” John grumbled, though he accepted the plastic mug of steaming coffee, fingers prickling pleasantly as they wrapped around it. 

“Oh, I only break that one out if they’re losing,” Sasha winked, passing another to Melanie.

“And…how do we know when they’re losing?” John frowned at the lines painted on the grass, trying to make sense of them, “Or winning? Or anything really. Like I said, I’ve heard of rugby as a concept but I didn’t get much time to research the specifics.”

“Wouldn’t worry too much,” Melanie snorted but there was something distinctly fond in it, “What our guys play doesn’t really resemble actual rugby, no one joins an LGBT teahoweekend team to play seriously. This is more for fun, y’know? Community and all that.”

John grimaced around his mouthful of coffee. Wonderful. Something he understood even less than sport. 

A few more people trickled in, wrapped in their own woolens, greeted with smiles and waves and inside jokes from everyone else, Sasha handed out a lot more pours from her thermos. But when the match started and the two teams started emerging from the slightly lopsided brick hut that was apparently the changing rooms, there still wasn’t much of a crowd for them.

They sure made a hell of a racket for them, though. Suddenly John was surrounded by whoops and cheers that misted in the air, the sound of gloved hands clapping excitedly. It was an odd bunch, a mix of people in all shapes and sizes; men, women, people who didn’t go by either. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their kit, the opposition in black, bright orange and green stripes across all their team’s shirts, even if some people were wearing ones clearly far too big for them. 

Like Tim for example, who’d tied the excess fabric of his into a knot, showing immense commitment to looking like an extra in a horny beach movie despite the temperature. He and Daisy were tossing a battered looking rugby ball back and forth, half practicing and half seeing who could throw it hard enough to knock the other off their feet. Basira seemed to be the only person on the team who was maintaining any order, barking at people and shuffling them into their positions. Sasha nudged Melanie gently, telling her which direction to turn in to loudly wolf whistle at Georgie and make her laugh. 

Meanwhile John searched the faces anxiously, looking for Martin. Surely he’d stick out like a sore thumb, he was a head taller than anyone here, oh god, what if he’d bolted after all… 

But there he was, lagging behind, looking like he was wondering if he could just make a break for it before anyone noticed he wasn’t there. Too late, Basira shouted at him to get in prop position- whatever the hell that meant- and Martin sagged visibly. He fidgeted towards his station, pushing his hair out of his eyes and back into the headband he wore, straightening his socks where they’d fallen down. He looked so uncomfortable, so scared just to exist, so like the awkward man John remembered from that first year in the Archives. 

It broke John’s heart a little. So, just like he should have back then, he did something about it. 

He joined in with the applause, making as much noise as he physically could, putting his fingers in his mouth and giving a piercing whistle. 

Martin blinked, like John’s voice stood out from all the rest, turning and seeing him there. Instantly a smile broke across his face, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, so wide it made the freckles in the corner of his eyes bunch up. For a moment it was like John had never been cold in his life, something about that smile, about knowing he caused it, lit him up from the inside. 

He grinned back, giving him a thumbs up, the smile not even fading when the whistle blew for the start of the game and Martin had to scramble to get his game face on. 

Though it did when he noticed Sasha smirking triumphantly at him. 

“Oh shut up…” he groaned, retreating back into his scarf. 

“I shall not! It’s adorable how happy you two are and I reserve every right to be smug about it!” she elbowed him in the ribs, making him yelp. 

“John’s happy? Gross,” Melanie said mildly, sipping her coffee, “Come on, Sasha, eyes on the game. I can hear people groaning, surely we’re not losing already?”

Sasha hummed, following the chaos that had erupted in front of them, “Oh, wait. Daisy had the ball, there might be hope, I think…oh no, they scored a try. Yeah, we’re doomed.” 

“Ah well,” Melanie hummed before screaming through cupped hands, “Come on, Albatrosses!”

John was grateful for Sasha’s commentary too, even if he didn’t understand most of what she said it helped him keep track of things, the tone of her voice telling him when to groan, when to cheer. 

It was actually quite exciting, once he got into it. Tim and Georgie must have run a marathon each, streaking up and down the pitch whenever they got the ball in their possession, at least until one of the opposition tacked them to the ground and earned them a mouthful of turf. Daisy was always quick to avenge them, spearing people twice her size with utter fearlessness until the players in black learned to be afraid of her. Meanwhile Basira was like an army major, her voice the only thing keeping them all together sometimes. Every point their team earned happened because she’d demanded it.

At first Martin hung on the edges, eyes darting, clearly hesitant to plunge in. Until, through a mammoth effort of mostly will, Basira took the ball from Tim and threw it into Martin’s arms, freeing it from the tangled knot of markers.

“Fucking take them out!” she barked at him, pointing towards the goal. 

And so he did. Face set with a steely stubbornness that John immediately recognised, Martin tucked the ball under his arm and plowed forward. The other team tried to tackle him but they simply couldn’t, every contact was just shrugged off like they were nothing more than buzzing flies. All the bulk Martin usually tried to hide was suddenly weaponised and, damn it, he was unstoppable.

John knew his jaw was hanging open like a complete fool, that his face was burning so much that he could have served as a space heater, but he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t even take enough of his attention off Martin to tell Melanie and Sasha to shut up when he felt them smirking. 

He could only stare until Martin had stormed a path through enough of the opposing team to throw the ball to Tim who saw it over the line. Immediately the Albatrosses erupted in screams of joy, throwing themselves at Martin until there were enough of them to knock him onto his ass. The crowd made a similar racket, though no one was clapping or yelling louder than John, grinning wide enough to hurt as he watched his boyfriend sit up, laughing, freckled cheeks streaked with mud and grass in his curls. 

“Did you see him?” John breathed, heart hammering like he’d run the length of the pitch himself, “He was amazing!”

“Well no, obviously I didn’t but I’m guessing you just saw why Basira’s been trying to bully him into joining for months,” Melanie snorted with laughter but even her voice softened, “Bet he’s glad he signed up now, huh?”

John laughed, “I suppose…and I’m glad I came to see it.”

Sasha squeezed his arm in delight, though the whistle’s sharp cry pulled their attention back to the game.

It seemed now the Albatross’ secret weapon was revealed, the opposition were on the offensive. Suddenly Martin couldn’t move without tripping over someone in a black shirt, every attempt to get the ball in his hands was snuffed out before they could get anyone near. The gap between the scores got wider and wider while Martin was trapped in the back, boxed out. John watched the lines on his face deepen, he knew the inability to help his teammates would be needling at him like a stone in his boots. John fidgeted, fingers tangled anxiously in the tassels of his scarf. 

Until that mounting frustration finally forced the stars into alignment, Martin shoving forward to catch a desperate throw from Georgie. He started to run, just like before, but it wasn’t going to be so easy. 

The man from the opposite team ran headlong into Martin, grabbing at his shoulders, throwing him so far off balance he was tipped onto the ground with a sickening thump, counterpointed by a groan of dismay from the crowd.

 “What the fuck was that?” John yelped in alarm, only Sasha’s hand firmly holding his elbow stopping him from running onto the pitch, “That was clearly an illegal tackle!”

“Thought you didn’t know anything about rugby?” Melanie reminded him, sounding bemused. 

“I don’t need to know the rules to know it’s illegal for that oaf to try and kill my boyfriend,” John snapped, “What the hell kind of game is he playing, am I going to have to put him back together myself at the end of this?”

“John,” Sasha sounded like she was trying not to laugh, “It’s okay, the guy’s getting a red. And Martin’s okay, see?”

John frowned, unable to believe it until he saw Martin stand up, blood trickling in a thin red line from his nose. Georgie was fussing over him, trying to lead him off the pitch but Martin shook his head gently, wiped away the blood on the hem of his shirt and moved back towards his position. 

“He…he wants to keep playing?” John said in disbelief, staring as the teams formed up for the penalty. 

“He’s a stubborn guy, isn’t he?” Sasha smiled, “There’s not much he wouldn’t do for someone who needs him.” 

“No. There isn’t,” John murmured, mostly to himself, feeling a deep pride burning in the pit of his stomach as teammates came up to pat Martin on the back, punch him lightly on the arm, say something encouraging.

“Think you’re starting to get into sport now?” Melanie grinned like she already knew the answer. 

And community too. “Maybe a little,” John shrugged. 

The game was something of a foregone conclusion but John had learned to love tragedies a long time ago. He cheered along with his friends, hissed and cursed when the tackles started getting dirty, chanted Sasha’s homemade fight songs, rewritten to be a little more bawdy and much, much more gay. 

It didn’t mean they won but it did mean they had a hell of a lot of fun. By the time the final whistle blew, John had been grinning for so long that his jaw ached and his coffee had gone cold without him realising. He knocked it back anyway, shoving the mug back into Sasha’s hand. 

“You’re joining us all at the pub afterwards,” Sasha grinned, collaring him before he could run away, “No ifs or buts, Sims. You’re both on the team now.”

“Understood,” John chuckled, surprising himself with how much he meant it, before taking off towards Martin as soon as she let him go. 

Martin was filthy, he’d been able to get a couple more miracles in but more had ended with him getting tackled into the ground. Legally this time, or at least that’s what Sasha had promised him. There was mud obscuring his freckles and more than a few blades of grass stuck in his auburn hair. His knees were skinned and red with cold, his nose was a little swollen but he still had a smile for John as he came running up. 

Martin gave a soft noise of surprise as John caught him in a huge hug, knocking any breath he had left out of him with a laugh, “Oh! You know we lost, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” John admitted, grinning up at him, “Martin, you were incredible out there! I had no idea!”

“Neither did I,” Martin blushed, grinning, “You really thought I was good?”

“You don’t believe me, wait until we get to the pub and hear what everyone else has to say. You’re the star player today, darling.”

Martin was now red to the tips of his ears, nothing to do with the cold, “That’s okay…I believe you…”

John smiled, pulling him into a kiss before they walked back over to their friends who’d undoubtedly watched this whole exchange and were absolutely going to give them shit for it. 

“Jesus, John, you’re freezing!” Martin laughed, touching his cheek gently, “I can’t believe you actually came, you hate being cold?”

John just shook his head, pressing his lips to Martin’s icy palm. 

“I’m starting to realise there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Martin Blackwood.”

[equallyloyalandlethal]

WIP Wednesday Game (by @kedreeva)

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, send me a message to ask!

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It's that time of the week folks! I'm dedicated to making this a regular thing because this game HELPS so much. Thank you to anyone that participates!

This weeks titles:

Love Like Hellebores

Let Them Fight/Fool Me Once, Shame on Yew

Atlantix AU (co)

Blind Theo + Chi + Liam's Anxiety

El Dorado - THIAM

Snippet of the Week: Let Them Fight/Fool Me Once, Shame on Yew

“Okay, actually, pay attention this time,” Theo huffed, turning back to Isaac, purposefully ignoring the two different growls. 

One made him smile while the other had him wincing. Whoever had decided to put both Liam and Malia in this week’s group was insane. Each of them alone was distracting enough, for wholly opposite reasons. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering, whatever that clung onto him whenever the werecoyote was around. Three months was plenty of time to work out her fucking issues, or it should have been, so he thought. But no. A quarter of a year later, and here he was still dealing with the threats of snapped necks, bullets to the gut, or claws in his throat on a near daily basis. To top it all off, every time Malia so much as looked in his direction, Liam was growling on posturing, regardless of how many times he had been told it wasn’t his fight. The whole situation was so utterly fucked, all three of them near constantly on edge and the rest of the pack slowly getting thoroughly embroiled in it. 

A sharp blow to his sternum knocked him back and the air from his chest. Theo’s eyes snapped back into focus, gold flaring in them as he snarled for a split second. Staring back at him, an eyebrow cocked halfway up to his stupid blind curls and mouth opening like he was about to say something that was going to just make the whole thing worse, was Isaac. The dull ache from the blow faded to the background, his focus sliding into place, narrowing to the “enemy” in front of him. 

Tagging: (no pressure tags, is partly so that people ask me things and make me work on my shit)

@transdunbar @renmackree @dangerouscoffeetheorist @vantaesen @outcastpack @rd-eternity @chasing-chimeras @ksbbb @theoceanismyinkwell @disasterpenguin @singitoutgirl26 @raekensarcher @hemlocksandfoxgloves

[little-diable]

Carnal Sin - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

I desperately needed to get this out of my system, I ain't sorry for that. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader's mother had begged Priest Riddle to let the reader join his bible study, a bratty woman who wanted to make his life a living hell. Now it was time to finally teach her a lesson.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (m), face fucking, man handling, spanking, religious connotations, Tom being Tom

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (2k words)

“How can you possibly believe that?” Her laughter echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as if demons were carrying the sound. All eyes were focused on her, wide eyes that trembled with fear because of the blasphemous words she kept on speaking. But she didn’t care about them, didn’t even remember their names, no, all she cared about was the pair of dark pupils staring her down. 

“Excuse me?” His voice was sharp, urged on by the need to put her in her place. All other eyes snapped back to him, lowering their gazes in fear of the priest who was known for punishing those who didn’t dare listen. But she didn’t fear him, taunting him whenever their paths crossed. 

“Oh, don’t give me that. You and I both know you don’t believe in any of that yourself. Turning water into wine? That’s witchcraft, and witches should be burned, according to your little storybook at least.” Gasps followed her words, sounds that left (y/n) grinning as if she was the Devil herself, joining the bible study to make it a living hell for those who desperately clung to their belief. For a few seconds, he didn’t speak up, holding eye contact with her from his spot, but as she parted her lips to speak, once again set on laughing words she shouldn’t pronounce, he cleared his throat. 

“We’ll end our session here, I need to have a word with (y/n), alone.” She tried not to pay the heat his words shot through her any attention, trying not to squeeze her thighs together as she watched him rise to her feet. Neither of them spoke a word as the others hurriedly left the room, closing the door to give the two some privacy. Her eyes didn’t leave his frame once, the tall figure she’d imagine whenever she let her hands wander, chasing that high she was desperate for. Priest Riddle was dangerously handsome, fooling anybody whenever he wasn’t wearing his collar.

And yet she knew it was nothing more than a game, a game whose rules he was making. But she had never been good at following rules, set on breaking them like branches snapping beneath her shoes. 

“I wasn’t optimistic when your mother begged me to let you join, you know? I knew you’d only cause me more problems. But I promised your mother to try, to give you a chance. Well let me tell you, (y/n), I’ve never been a patient man. I think it’s time you learn a lesson.” The chuckle rumbling through her left him smirking, something she clearly didn’t understand fully to anticipate what he’d do to her tonight. 

“A lesson? What, should I fall to my knees and pray ten Hail Mary’s?” He crossed the room towards (y/n) with fast steps, hand shooting out to grasp her throat before she could flinch away. A shaky gasp left her at the touch, feeling his cold rings burn into her skin. Priest Riddle stared her down as if she was now living through her last judgment, set on taking her down to hell with him.

“A prayer won’t help you no more, God doesn’t answer the calls of sinners like you. The only one you’ll pray to will be me.” She was forced to her feet for a second, lips parted to let an excited sigh leave her. This is what she had been working for, knowing that he would eventually give in, eventually cross that line he had sworn to stay away from. But even a priest had his enemies, the carnal sin calling his name in quiet hours. 

“Let's hope your mouth knows what it’s doing. Onto your knees, let me fuck those bratty words out of you.” She could have sworn that his eyes grew darker as he spoke the words, watching her drop to her knees without a single protest leaving her. “I should have known, you’ll enjoy whatever I’m doing to you. It’s all about the power you think you have, forcing me to do something I promise I never would. Let me tell you, (y/n), even priests can beg for forgiveness, and forgiveness He shall always grant me.”

For the first time since meeting Priest Riddle, she felt some fear swapping through her, wondering if she was finally burning from the reckless play with fire. It was an unfamiliar sensation, yet so awfully exciting, she could only stare up at him with a smirk. 

He did quick work of his trousers, freeing his hard cock from the confines of his clothes. He was beautiful, a man crafted by God, what a shame he was destined to hide away beneath the black suits he wore. (Y/n) followed his ringed fingers, how he grasped his cock to push himself closer to (y/n). 

“Open that mouth of yours, let’s see how much you can take.” It was a dangerous game, and yet (y/n) had always lived for the thrill. She parted her lips, tongue exposed to his dark eyes. Within seconds he had forced his cock into her mouth, to the back of her throat. She gagged around him, had her vision instantly blurred by tears. 

Without waiting for any commands, she hallowed her cheeks, letting her tongue explore his cock for a moment before he began to move. Priest Riddle’s ringed hand found the back of her head, holding her in place as he fucked her mouth, high on the sound of her gasps, chokes, sounds he’d forever remember. She was a pretty sacrifice, worth the trouble she had forced him through, that much he was certain of. 

“How can there be no God when we get to experience something like this?” His raspy voice left her shuddering, words she could barely focus on, too concentrated on the feeling of his cock fucking her mouth. No other man had ever been this rough with her, and yet she knew that she had been addicted to Priest Riddle from the first day, hoping that they’d eventually end up like this. 

“Such pretty sounds for a woman this dangerous, it’s amazing how you try to fool those around you.” He spat his words as he used more speed for his thrusts, enjoying her gasps a tad bit too much, wanting to force his cock down her throat. But he wouldn’t give in, no, he’d only give in when he was buried inside of her, fucking her into oblivion. Perhaps she’d find her way back to God when he showed her the entry to the pearly gates, torn between two worlds as he fucked her breathless. 

Spit dripped from her chin, making a mess on the dark carpet she was kneeling on. She was desperate for some friction, trying to shuffle closer, and yet he didn’t allow her to go far, held in place by his tight grasp. Their eyes met, his full of danger, hers full of desperation, begging the man to finally pull her to her feet, to fuck her like she needed him to. 

“Do you think you deserve to be touched? Do you think you deserve to cum? I should have known you’ll turn into a cock-hungry whore the second I touch you.” A gasp left (y/n) as he pulled away, forcing her to her feet seconds later. She was pushed towards the black leather couch, trying to sit down though it seemed as if she was too slow for him. With his hand finding its way back to her hair, Tom manhandled her down onto the couch, drawing an excited moan from (y/n). 

“Open those legs, show me how wet you are from sucking my cock.” A whine left her at his words, legs spread to expose her soaked panties to him, hidden beneath her skirt. His cold fingers wandered up her legs, he shuffled her skirt up to her waist before he pushed her panties aside. The groan that left him at the sight of her bare cunt shot shudders down (y/n)’s spine, eyes close to falling shut. “Look at me, don’t you dare to even think of looking away.”

His palm came down onto her cunt, spanking the soft skin with more force than anticipated. (Y/n) choked on her gasps, eyes wide as she stared up at the smirking priest. Her lungs were aching, trying to hold onto her breath as she kept choking on the air flushing through her lungs, too excited to even speak up. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you stupid, force you to take every inch.” Priest Riddle’s words were enough to leave her moaning and gasping as he flipped her around. He had her pressed against the armrest while he positioned himself behind her.

“I’m on the pill, just fuck me, please.” His raspy chuckles filled the room, leaving her walls clenching in anticipation. (Y/n) felt him brush the tip of his cock through her slit for a second before he pushed into her, her eyes instantly fell close, fingers tightening their grip on the armrest with her nails clawed into the fabric. 

“God should strike you down for the sinful words you speak, allowing a man to fuck you because you’re selfish, wanting to give in.” She shuddered against him, unable to speak as he fucked her. His hips snapped against her behind with every thrust, forcing himself even deeper into her cunt, enjoying the way she felt wrapped around him all too tightly. 

“Fuck, feels so good.” (Y/n) mumbled the words, not trusting herself to speak up, voice caught in the back of her throat as he fucked her breathless. This is what they have been warned of, the carnal sin, a feeling so intense only those who weren’t allowed to touch one were able to make one feel. 

“And for that, you will submit to me from now on, you won’t go against me no more. You’re mine now, forever mine.” A sob clawed through (y/n), she didn’t understand the depth of the words he spoke, could only choke on a “Yes”, too focused on her high to overthink the consequences she’d have to face. Consequences of actions she had been desperate to go through with. Drunk on the feeling of her priest fucking her breathless. 

“Oh God, I’m so close, don’t stop.” Her words left him chuckling, she felt him near her ear, growling the words that were about to roll off his tongue.

“God can’t help you now.” She choked on her breaths, eyes rolling into her head as she sneaked a hand down her body. Her bundle of nerves pulsed against her fingers, giving herself the last final push to fall over the edge. The white, blinding sensation shot through her, leaving (y/n) trembling as he kept fucking her. 

His breaths grew shallow, she felt him twitch deep inside of her, about to cum with a devilish grin glued to his lips. (Y/n) had to cling to the couch, scared she’d faint from the intensity of her orgasm, unable to think straight as she was panting. The priest pulled out of her seconds before he came, painting her ass with his cum. 

Wordlessly he pulled away to reach for a towel. He cleaned her with a hum leaving him, staring down at her and the fucked-out expression she wore. Only slowly did she dare to turn around, looking up at him with wide eyes. She didn’t flinch as he cupped her cheek, forcing his thumb down on her tongue for a second. 

“I expect you back here tomorrow morning, don’t even dare to think that this was your only lesson.”

[she-karev]

The Lucas greys shot was so cute,just curious can you do a part 2 possibly. I love the Lucas Amelia link bond and Lucas and scout cousin cuteness please. Also makes me wonder if he ever told any of his add learning of it. ?

ADHD Reveal (Lucas Adams and Amelia Shepherd ADHD Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Canon Episode: Between Season 19 Episode 17 and 18

AN: Hey guys I know I’m late responding to this request but I’ve been busy with school and other one shots. I learned that October is ADHD awareness month so I thought it would be a perfect time to write this considering the theme. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: Amelia finds out her nephew Lucas has ADHD after accidentally ingesting his medication mistaking it for Aspirin. When she confronts him, he unloads his frustrations on her and their family for missing this.

Words: 5066

April 1st, 2023

“Adams!” Lucas Adams turns to find his chief resident, Amber DeLuca, inside the locker room holding a tablet ready to start the day, “You’re with me and Hunt today in the ER lets go.”

Lucas nods and quickly grabs his aspirin bottle to put inside his lab coat pocket. It’s not for a headache, it’s secretly storing his ADHD medication that he was recently prescribed two weeks ago with Nick Marsh’s help.

Ever since he found out he was neurodivergent Lucas felt everything come into clear focus on why no matter how hard he tries his mind wonders elsewhere. But with it comes a frustration not towards himself but towards his family. In a massive family of doctors how can a kid with clear signs of ADHD be dismissed as a problem child?

“Question Adams is today gonna be a busy or slow day in the ER?”

Lucas snaps out of his dark question to focus on his job that he hopes he can improve on now that he’s taking proper treatment and his focus is becoming more acute.

“Um doesn’t it usually vary?”

“It does.” Amber confirms, “But on April fool’s day the stupidity of the human race reaches heights even TikTok can’t record. Today people pull dangerous and straight up deadly pranks on others and guess who takes care of the damage.”

“First responders?”

“Who take them to us so we can make sure they live to see April 2nd. Now this is a popular prank, The Surfing Challenge, what are the common injuries from a teen riding a car like a surfboard?”

“Fractured pelvis, broken bones, road rash and brain injuries.”

“Correct, you’re with me all day. Any major traumas I have you will be by my side. Now normally I would request either Griffith or Kwan on my service but I personally requested you.”

Lucas looks genuinely shocked at that but knowing his boss thinks it’s a joke, “Is this an April fools prank to psych me for today?”

“Surprisingly no. I’ve noticed your improving work performance the past week, your able to multitask without royally screwing up and making mistakes that only a 1st year med student could make.”

Lucas furrows his eyebrows at that, “That was kind of a back handed compliment but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Amber states bluntly, “I’m taking you with me to really test you in a high stress environment. And the ER is the busiest room in this whole building. When patients come in, I am gonna point and yell, it’s how I operate so don’t take it personally.”

“I’ve learned not to at this point.” Lucas says as they head down the hall.

“See that is what I am talking about your finally learning, better late than never. I’m either gonna make or break you today so get your head in the game.”

“Yes Dr. DeLuca.” They enter the ER that is mostly empty this morning. Lucas spots an unopened water bottle at the station. He uncaps his aspirin bottle, pops the pill in his mouth before washing it down with the water.

“Incoming trauma two minutes out, gown and glove now!” Amber yells out to Adams who puts his aspirin bottle behind the station by a desktop before joining in on what will surely be a productive day.

Half an Hour Later

“Now you can see why you shouldn’t eat a spoonful of cinnamon.” Amber tells her teen patient who is breathing through an oxygen mask. He has brown smudges on his shirt and mouth that are from taking the cinnamon challenge. Once they opened his airway and cleared his lungs Amber set him up for oxygen therapy.

Adams looks over the chart for the lung function results, “His lungs are inflamed, should we put him on corticosteroids?”

“Let’s ask him.” Amber turns to the patient, “Simon, are you able to breathe without pain? Can you inhale without the mask? Let’s try.”

Simon takes the mask off and inhales causing him to couch violently, and Amber quickly puts the mask back on calming him down.

“Yep, give him 20 mg’s and call his parents they need to know their kid skipped school to eat cinnamon.”

Adams inserts the drug into the IV before going to the station to call Simon’s parents from the phone when he stops. The station is filled with files, tablets and pens but it’s not what’s on it that stops Lucas dead. His aspirin bottle filled with his Adderall prescription is missing.

Lucas quickly gets behind the desk and looks around the clutter for his bottle. He moves papers, puts tablets on top of the desk, and moves desktops to look in the back. His heart races as the gravity of this hits him, his Adderall is missing possibly in the hands of a doctor or nurse who is unknowingly taking speed.

Amber hears the clutter and looks to find her intern behind the desk moving objects around frantically. She sighs at the sight not expecting Lucas Adams to make a mess so soon after their shifts start. Amber turns to the nurse who looks puzzled by the scene as well.

“Monitor him please, I will be right back.” Amber snaps her gloves off and approaches her intern with a stern face. He doesn’t see her coming as he is on the floor of the station looking around the dirty floor.

“Adams I am almost afraid of what the answer might be but I am going to ask, what are you doing?”

Lucas’s head pops up from under, “Somebody took my aspirin, I need to find it.”

“I had high hopes for you today, Adams, it was a first and now it’s the last.” Amber pinches the bridge of her nose, “Aspirin is a dime a dozen ask a nurse to get you another-”

“No I need that bottle!” Lucas exclaims standing up and seeing his boss narrowing her eyes at him.

“Two things, 1. You do not interrupt me again, 2. You will tell me what is so important about that specific aspirin that warrants you to yell at the woman who can fire you with one call. Go.”

Lucas inhales and exhales to keep his anxiety under control before explaining in a hushed voice, “I was diagnosed with ADHD two weeks ago and the neurologist prescribed Adderall to take. I carry it with me inside a bottle of aspirin that I left at this station, and it’s gone which means someone took it with them by mistake.”

Amber stands there frozen for a moment to process before she laughs scaring Lucas who looks at her in shock. She laughs like it’s the funniest thing for a few moments before forming coherent words.

“Y-You’re pranking me, right?” Amber asks with a wide smile, “This is an April fools’ prank, oh Adams you almost gave me a heart attack, good on you.”

Lucas stands there frozen in place with a remorseful face that Amber sees causing her to gulp as her smile begins to die.

“Why aren’t you laughing? Laugh Adams so I know your messing with me, please!” Lucas looks down at his feet in fear causing Amber to frown as she realizes he’s telling her the truth. The chief resident inhales deeply to keep calm so that they don’t raise suspicion before moving closer to the intern asking in a low voice that sends shivers down Adams spine.

“Are you telling me that a doctor or nurse might be taking your ADHD medication by mistake causing them to be impaired and a danger to patients?”

Lucas stands there scared to give an answer that might have him punched. However, he knows silence will ensure his death so he gives a quick nod causing Amber to groan and turn to Owen Hunt who just entered the pit.

“Hunt!” Owen freezes at that shout that he registers as panic, “I need to attend to an emergency outside the pit and I need Adams with me.”

“DeLuca, we got patients, and they need-”

“Hunt I would never ask this of you unless it was life or death you know that and if you look at my face you will see the sheer panic and anxiety that will grow unless you let me go, now!”

Hunt looks shocked by that but complies knowing the resident well enough to see her fear, “I’ll page Parker and Kwan to cover you for the next hour.”

“Thank you.” Amber turns to her intern who looks panicked as well, “You’re with me so you can watch me clean up your mess. Again.”

Later

“It must be a hell of an aspirin to go through this much trouble.”

Amber rubs her eyes at that statement, “Carl you have no idea, just run the footage at 7:13 AM that’s when we got the paramedics with the patient and when my intern put his bottle at the station. And let’s keep this between the three of us unless something horrific happens and I need to get a lawyer, so I don’t lose income for my family.”

Lucas looks down in shame at that comment knowing it would be his fault if Amber got fired for his mistake. Despite how blunt she is and how much she reprimands him, he knows it’s because it’s her job to make sure he does better next time. But even when his focus becomes clear he still screws up. It makes him more frustrated at himself and everyone else around him.

The security guard goes over the security footage of the pit at Amber’s command. Meanwhile, Amber and Lucas are speaking privately a few feet away from the desk. She speaks to Lucas in a low voice so no one can hear them.

“Why do you keep your Adderall in a bottle of aspirin?” Amber asks sternly, “They already have them in orange pill bottles telling people who they’re for and what they are.”

“I-I didn’t want people to find out. I just got diagnosed I’m trying to find my footing and I’m getting used to my meds.” Lucas replies truthfully, “Everybody already thinks I’m a screwup especially my family I didn’t want to give them an excuse to hammer on me more or reasons that explain why I screwed up so much. But I can see that I didn’t think it through.”

“Gee you think?” Amber asks sarcastically causing Lucas to look up in shame. Remorse falls on the resident who tries to mend her words, “Look I am not shaming you for being neurodivergent. Half of my classmates in med school had ADHD, as long as you are finally working on getting treatment you have my support. But you have to understand that accidentally drugging medical professionals is severely frowned upon and could lead to both of us getting fired. Do you understand now why we keep pills in orange bottles?”

Lucas nods, “Yes I understand now it won’t happen again.”

“See to it that it doesn’t.” Amber sighs looking at the tape, “We just have to hope whoever took your aspirin didn’t take any. There! I see someone reaching over the station! Run it again.”

Amber and Lucas lean forward to get a closer look at the footage. They see a woman in a lab coat rubbing her temple and leaning against the station before grabbing the bottle and taking it with her. The footage stops as her face comes to full view revealing it to be Amelia Shepherd.

Lucas sees this and sighs at this unfortunate turn of events, “And it keeps getting better.”

Later

Amber bursts through the surgical doors searching for the chief of neuro. She darts her eyes around the area hoping that Amelia is prepping and not in an OR high on speed. Amber spots Amelia speed walking to the gowning station looking jittery as she takes a pair of booties before sitting down where her leg is shaking against the floor. The chief resident knows what this means causing her to gingerly approach Shepherd.

“Dr. Shepherd.”

Amelia smiles up at the chief resident before responding at hyper pace, “Hey Amber, let me ask you do you ever have one of those days where you have all this energy in your body and you just want to work out until you get it all out? I hate running so my outlet is surgery which is where I’m headed right now. Aneurism clip it’s nothing to it, just go in and out, it’s like when my college roommate had a guy over oof let me tell you she knew the definition of in and out.”

“Okay I need you to be honest with me right now, did you take aspirin this morning?”

“Yeah it didn’t work I still got the headache and I was excited to crush a stuffed crust pizza for lunch but I wasn’t in the mood.”

Amber nods bitterly, “Yep that tracks. Okay my friend you and I are gonna take a nice walk to the attendings lounge, let’s go.” She links her arm to Amelia’s who follows confused.

“But I have a surgery.”

“No you do not, your nephew will explain in a bit just keep walking and maybe don’t talk so much for all of our sakes.” Amelia keeps quiet allowing Amber to guide her to the attendings lounge where Adams is waiting anxiously.

“I-Is she…?” Lucas asks.

“Oh yeah.” Lucas groans at that confirmation. Amber grabs a water bottle from the fridge and hands it to Amelia who paces back and forth high on speed, “Hydrate now.”

“So bossy.” Amelia sips her water and ends up chugging it empty, “Oh wow I needed that, thanks.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your gonna feel thankful with what we’re about to tell you.” Amber turns to Adams who has his hands behind his head leaning against the fridge with a worried face, “Tell her. Your aunt, your mess. I’ll be in the pit when you’re done, I’ll call Link and tell him the situation.” Amber leaves the room with Amelia looking at Lucas confused.

Lucas sighs before getting off the fridge and approaching his aunt with guilt etched on his face. Amelia is still pacing in the room, “Um aunt Amelia…that aspirin you took it wasn’t aspirin it was my Adderall for my ADHD.”

Amelia stops pacing and faces Lucas with a wide-eyed expression, “…What?”

“That was my aspirin bottle you took only I don’t keep aspirin in it I keep my Adderall in it. I was diagnosed with ADHD two weeks ago and I’ve been taking it ever since, I am so sorry.”

Amelia’s bliss extinguishes at this and is replaced with shock, “Lucas! Oh my god! I am high right now! I’m six years sober I am a mom I cannot slip especially not now!”

“I-I-I didn’t think anybody was gonna take it.” Lucas explains clumsily.

“Then why did you keep speed in an aspirin bottle to begin with?!” Amelia asks frustrated, “I almost went into surgery strung out of my mind! I am in people’s brains for a living do you know how much focus and steadiness that requires?”

“I didn’t mean to get you high. And it’s not like you knew I mean doesn’t AA make exceptions for this?”

Amelia scoffs, “Recovery means being sober at all times it’s not like cheating on a diet or skimping on chores, it could mean ruined lives! God how is it you got me involved in your mess again?”

“My mess?” Lucas asks clearly triggered, “You think this is all my fault? I tell you I’m taking meds for my neuro disorder, and you somehow turn it around and make me the Black Shepherd again? Are you freaking kidding me?!”

Amelia is startled by his yelling and he continues, “Did you ever stop to wonder why I’m like this? Hyperactivity, lack of attention, inability to focus, irritated easily, I read all of those symptoms online and it all made sense to me so why didn’t it make sense to all of you?! Everybody called me lazy and stupid even my own family and your freaking doctors, neurosurgeons how could you have missed this?!”

Amelia frowns at this as her frustration passes and guilt settles in as her nephew continues ranting, “You know I get mom and dad and even Uncle Derek but you…you know what it’s like to be different to be seen as messed up and yet you took one look at me and thought the same things they did why?! It’s not like ADHD is rare and you go into people’s brains for a living, neurological issues are yours and Uncle Derek’s main language! Maybe if any of you had seen it and caught it early, I could have gotten treatment, I could have gotten this under control, I could have been something. I could have gotten better grades, got into the best colleges like you and Derek. I could have been a better doctor but instead you like everyone else in my life thought I was stupid, why?!”

Amelia is stunned silent by this struggling to respond causing Lucas to scoff, “You know what forget it, I’m going back to the pit. At least there are people there that don’t think I’m just another lazy idiot.” With that Lucas storms out slamming the door behind him leaving Amelia to stew in her guilt.

That Night

“Okay Scout is down.” Link proclaims as he enters his ex-girlfriends living room where she is sitting on the couch looking at the coffee table in torment, “I’m gonna stay here until you feel better and make sure you call your sponsor. How are you feeling? Are the symptoms subsiding?”

“Mostly.” Amelia answers in a numb tone, “I still feel thirsty, and I still got the headache that’s grown with the knowledge that I just broke my sobriety after six agonizing years.”

Link looks at Amelia in sympathy and sits down on the couch next to her, “You thought it was aspirin, something over the counter. You didn’t intend to get high; you didn’t intend to endanger yourself, your patients or our son. It was an accident, and you won’t do it again.”

Amelia darkly chuckles, “Yeah that’s what I said over ten years ago when I accidentally drank champagne at a friend’s wedding thinking it was ginger ale. (Private Practice Season 4 Episode 20) I played it off as an accident, a mistake and I ended up prescribing myself oxy and waking up to my fiancé who OD’d beside me. I fell until I hit rock bottom and it almost killed me.”

“So, you know not to do that again.” Link encourages, “Because you know if you do your son might have to grow up without a mom around. A good mom who is trying her best even when life throws hurdles at her. You stayed sober after Ryan, you stayed sober after Christopher, you stayed sober during a pandemic. You earned those 6 years, don’t let one accident mess up your progress. You know what happens if you do so I know you won’t do that again, you just have to know that too.”

Amelia looks at Link flattered knowing no matter what they will still love each other even if they are not together anymore. She also knows he will be her cheerleader when she feels the weight of the world on her shoulders, and she will forever appreciate it.

“Thank you.” Amelia sips her water bottle.

“How are you feeling otherwise? Are you okay?”

Amelia purses her lips, “Well I feel good about keeping my sobriety, I didn’t intend to get high and I don’t intend to ever. Although I feel guilt and depressed over being the worst aunt in the entire world so that’s not great.”

“You’re not the worst aunt in the entire world.”

“My nephew says otherwise.” Amelia retorts bitterly, “And why shouldn’t he? I like everybody else in my family thought he was a mess. He never followed instructions, he had to do everything his own way, his grades were barely passable, all that time I never thought there was something to explain why he was like that. I never thought he could have a learning disorder, and I am not only a terrible aunt but a horrible doctor as well. I remove inoperable tumors; I paved the way to cure Parkinson’s and yet I couldn’t see that my nephew was suffering from ADHD.”

“You weren’t the only one who didn’t see it.” Link reminds her, “His mom didn’t see it but then again I met her so I’m guessing she had expectations for her kid bordering on perfection.”

“You have no idea.” Amelia confirms with an exasperated tone, “But I know what it’s like to be considered the Black Shepherd so I could have understood his struggles better. I could have helped him; I could have been his safe haven, but I wasn’t because his mother drove me crazy, and I avoided her except on Christmas and birthdays and Lucas was a casualty. I wasn’t around as much as I should have been, and he suffered because of it.”

“Did you get a degree in diagnosing neuro divergent disorders at the drop of a hat?” Link asks causing Amelia to glare at him, “I’m not trying to be a jerk I am just saying this disorder can be missed even by doctors like you. Maybe you could have caught this if you were around more or maybe you couldn’t, we’ll never know. What happened in the past happened and you can’t change that, that’s what they teach you in AA right?”

“Yeah.”

“How does that saying go? Accept the things you can’t change…”

Amelia inhales and exhales before finishing, “Gain the courage to change the things you can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Yeah that’s right, you can’t change Lucas getting diagnosed sooner you and I both know that.” Amelia nods solemnly, “But you can change what happens from now on now that he’s been diagnosed. You can give him the help you wanted to give him when he was younger. Maybe when he sees how hard you’re working to make up for your lack of attention he’ll realize he has a pretty cool aunt on his side. And if he doesn’t then it’s his loss, what do you say?”

Amelia looks at Link in thought before her brain comes up with ideas to help her nephew and make up for her mistakes.

Three Days Later

Lucas is in the living room of what used to be his Aunt Meredith’s house and is how his, Griffith’s and Yasuda’s. He is reading from his flashcards that Nick Marsh gave him to help him study for the ABSITE’s.

Marsh told him it helped him pass with flying colors and thought Lucas could benefit from it as well. Lucas finds this to be true as the medical notes are easy to read with examples to help. He knows even if he caught this too late at least someone like Nick can guide him through it unlike his own family.

He hears the door opening and closing but is deep in his notes to look up, “Did you get any Chinese? I’m starving.”

“No but I brought sushi.” The familiar voice makes Lucas look up to find it’s his aunt Amelia holding up a takeout bag with a guilty face, “I thought it would be the first step in the Aunt Amelia apology train.”

Lucas is stumped by this gesture and almost wants to welcome it. However, he is still angry towards Amelia and feels his outburst was warranted. Their relationship has been fraught since he joined the program, but he feels he can’t forgive and forget knowing she like so many others let him down when he needed help the most.

He looks back down on his notes and replies icily, “I’m not hungry.”

Amelia is not mad, she knows it’s gonna take more than Japanese takeout to make up for her short sightedness, “I get it, I would give the cold shoulder too after what I said the other day. I wouldn’t be so cold and silent though I would be belligerent and give a verbal lashing that could rival yours three days ago.”

“What do you want?” Lucas asks impatiently, “Are you here to try to get me to tell your sponsor that I accidentally got you high so there’s only one screw up in the family?”

“Lucas I could be 20 years sober, and I would still be the screw up in the family.” Amelia retorts half amused, “And my sponsor believed me and didn’t change my sobriety date, so I am good on that front. Now I am moving on to making things right with my nephew who gave me an Oscar worthy speech the other day so to start I am sorry. I will elaborate further.”

Lucas holds his hand up to stop her, “Look let’s not do this. No amount of sorry is gonna change what happened and it’s not gonna make 12-year-old me get diagnosed and treated. Now I am sorry for accidentally getting you high, I can see now orange pill bottles exist for a reason and I will use them from now on. I’m working out to combat the symptoms and I’m improving on my work so much that even Amber DeLuca is impressed. We can work together without any more incidents and outbursts. Let’s just…keep things professional from now on okay? I think it’s best for all of us.”

Amelia looks hurt by this for a moment before gaining the courage to work harder on her apology, “You didn’t mean to get me high; I know that and I also know that me saying your ADHD ruined my life was a low blow. I should have handled it better, I should have taken into account why it took so long for you to get treatment. And your right things could have been different if you had gotten this diagnosed as a kid. Maybe I could have seen it if I was around more when your were a kid. College, med school, residency are all time consuming, and sacrifices were made. Also, your mom has made it her life’s mission to remind me of my mistakes every time I come and visit so that kept me away as well. I think you know as well as I do that your mother, while I love her is not the most likable person to be around for long periods of time. She can be snarky, brash, judgmental, hold on to grudges and just an outright bitch on occasion.”  

“Hey!” Lucas snaps looking up with a glare, “Just because I’m mad at her doesn’t mean I’ll stay quiet while you insult her, that’s my mother you’re talking about.”

“And she’s my sister so I get to talk bad behind her back all I want.” Lucas rolls his eyes, “My point is that I can’t change the past short of getting a time machine we can’t diagnose you earlier and support you when you needed it most. The past is in the past and there’s no way to go back and correct all the mistakes we’ve done.”

“You’re really lifting my spirits here.” Lucas remarks sarcastically still reading his notes.

“I can’t change what happened, but I can change what happens moving forward.” Lucas looks up for the first time without venom instead he has curiosity in his eyes, “You say that you could have accomplished more if we caught this earlier, you say that like it’s too late but it’s not. You’re still young, you’re an intern, you’re at the prime of your career where you have so many opportunities to live up to the family name. It’s what you want to do, and I am gonna help you do that because it’s what I would have wanted when I lived in our pedestal family’s shadow.”

Lucas looks at Amelia with tenderness at this offer as she continues, “Now I am working to develop my Parkinsons research and while it’s not nominated maybe it will win me the Catherine Fox award next year. Assisting me on that could pave the path you want and finally show our family screwed up doesn’t mean stupid. What do you say?”

Lucas sighs as his anger begins to subside with this offer. For so long he wanted to be seen as good enough in his family and now his world-class surgeon aunt is offering to help him with that. It makes him want to take her offer, but his loyalty matters more to him.

“I wish I could but I’m already helping Dr. Marsh with his genetically modified pig livers. He’s already nominated, and I hope he wins, it can give people like him and me a role model to look up to.”

Amelia is taken back by this rejection but is oddly pleased with this loyalty from her nephew, “That is very admirable of you. Nick Marsh is a good man, and he helped you when all of us failed you so he more than earned your assistance. He can help you be the surgeon he and I know you can be.”

Lucas nods at this before speaking in comfort, “Well you’re the first person besides Uncle Derek and Nick who said that about me, if that counts for something.”

Amelia grins at this start to a more stable relationship between them before the food calls to her, “Well the offer still stands but until then are you hungry for sushi now? I know it’s not Chinese but I promise I got goodies in here for us both.”

Lucas is enticed by the smell of food as his hunger grows, “What did you get?”

“Yellowtail jalapeno for me, spicy tuna on crispy rice for you and wonton tacos for both of us.”

Lucas salivates at that before putting his notes away, “Okay but I get most of the tacos.”

Amelie chuckles, “You do not want to challenge me on that trust me.” She sits down next to him on the couch taking the food out so they can eat together as a family for what will hopefully be the start of a new and better beginning between them.

[sniped-from-behind]

Meet the

BLU Sniper

•─────⋅˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋅─────•

•─────⋅˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋅─────•

✦ ‧ ☁︎ Name . ⁺ ✦ Bernard [REDACTED]

✦ ‧ ☁︎ Pronouns . ⁺ ✦ He/Him ✦ ‧ ☁︎ Alias . ⁺ ✦ Sniper or "Tesoro" ✦ ‧ ☁︎ Class . ⁺ ✦ Sniper ✦ ‧ ☁︎ Affiliations . ⁺ ✦ BLU Chef - @chef-from-blu (respected co-worker) Sugarplum - @russian-tooth-fairy (Acquaintances)

•─────⋅˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋅─────•

"Salutations, my peering petites mouches.

I am the BLU Sniper, call me by any name you wish, I could not care less. To be honest, I am not sure being here is even good for my cover, but I would be a fool to not join in the information gathering this whole thing may provide.

Lets get it out of the way, shall we? I am not like other snipers, to make my point; Je viens de France, I do NOT piss in jars, and I posses a level of class that rival that of even the spies I catch.

I am a true professional."

•─────⋅˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋅─────•

☁︎𖥔TAGS𖥔☁︎

#snipes-stronghold ~ Replies to asks #for-the-books ~ Conversations (Starters and replies!) #sniper-mod-art ~ Official art by the Mod #sniper-art ~ Reblogged artwork done by others #knickknacks ~ General Reblogs #tesoro-fortress ~ Clips from in-game (hold no canon value, just for viewing fun)

•─────⋅˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋅─────•

☁︎𖥔RULES𖥔☁︎

This is a tf2 rp blog, and I intend to stay in character as often as possible! If I need to talk out of turn, such as questions being directed at me, I will always use purple text in italics with an additional sign off of "~mod"

Additional rules and boundaries are stated below!

This blog is 18+ While I dont plan to post explicit NSFW, I myself am an adult who prefers to be in adult spaces. I wont comb through everyone who may follow or interact with me, but I might block minors if I am uncomfortable! Furthermore, suggestive asks and interactions are fine, but I do intend to stray away from pure NSFW/sexual themes!

Anyone can ask/interact! While BLU Sniper is more likely to be warmer to those of his own team, hes not one to completely shut down other teams or affiliations! He can be cooperative in roleplay and is open to anyone of any affiliation, anons and all!

Shipping & Art I dont mind shipping one bit, in artwork or roleplay!! Its possible for an official ship to develop for Sniper in the future, but it would likely happen over a long set of rp, and of course would be discussed between mods via DMs! No NSFW, but go wild with any fanart; shipping, interaction, or otherwise! (Any of Snipers's family members are OFF LIMITS for shipping, for obvious reasons!)

Lore exists, and drama is fun My Sniper has a laundry list of issues and situations he has lived with, as well as lore that has developed over many years! A lot of this lore is dark and/or dramatic, and can be dark at times. Not to say he is all dark and no day, he does have a fair share of goof!

I reserve certain rights, as I am a person No one is entitled to my or Sniper's replies, and thus some may be ignored. Its not out of malice, but rather simple choice or even accident! Sometimes I am not comfortable answering things for whatever reason, and that's that! Keep in mind I am a real person behind a character, not just an internet toy :)

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