#but i did my part and its still not done !! and i still have a future phone call to be anxious about!!

[user211201]

Modulated

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“I ain’t no motherfuckin’ redneck, you assholes! Don’t you fucking get it? I’ll never be ok with you being here and disrespecting our gay spaces!” I had shrieked and screamed, and I was being sassy as fuck. But they had darted me, so it was too late for me already. I had been one of the hottest little twinks in Colombia back then. I had such a tight little body, I was non-binary, and I was supportive of my local drag scene. I was absolutely into resisting these fucking fascists and their goddamn bullshit lifestyles, which I couldn’t stand.

That’s how I thought of it all back then, anyhow.

Man, that dart though, it had done its dirty work. I was writhing on the floor of the club, so I didn’t even get to witness the way it transformed me as I went into spasms. It was almost like having a seizure, but I could feel the muscle growing on me, and I could hear my shrieks and wails shift in pitch as I grew on into this whole new, far more masculine body.

I was getting to be built like a brick shithouse really fucking fast, and was taking on more of a mature look. Everywhere I was getting more muscle. I was splitting the seams of my jeans, and my underwear, and felt my back pressing up and splitting my tight pink t-shirt.

When I finally was able to sit up, I was in a daze. I had rendered my clothes asunder. I had bristles of hair all over my face, and the har on my head had grown longer, too, sort of flopping in my eyes. I was a mess.

And then the headache came. I was clutching the sides of my head and moaning, almost screaming in pain out loud, as my twinkish mind collapsed and got replaced by a growing part of me I didn’t even know existed. That part, my friends, is the motherfucking, take-charge redneck stud I am today.

My friends helped me get out of there, and I was still in transition. It takes a good seventy-two hours at least until you can fully collapse one of those weak-ass brains like the one I had before and until a more dominant, superior personality takes over like the one I was starting to get.

So yeah, like I said, I was a mess, and when my friends got me back to one of their apartments, I was still sporadically ranting about how dare those fascists do this to me, they’d never win, this was fucking awful. But as I heard myself talk, there was a growing part of me that was observing myself and thinking “so what? You sound like a raving lunatic. Look at this body! Damn, boy, just look at that muscle!”

Sleeping on it, man, that twink brain of mine must have collapsed even further. I woke up and I just wanted coffee with a splash of alcohol in it, so that’s what I got. Then I added two splashed. I had already stripped out of my shredded pink t-shirt, and my friends had some loose boxers that fit me, but I was just this naked, muscular stud in awe of his own body and trying to come to terms with who I was now.

I was seeing my friends with new eyes, too. They seemed anxious to me, weak, full of nervous, overly feminine motions, jittery, immature, skittish and mostly just kind of fucking annoying. “Those are your friends,” I’d remind myself. “This isn’t you who’s thinking this.”

But that growing part of me was thinking “This is you. This is all you, stud. You’re so much better than them. They don’t even know you’re thinking this, and if they only knew, they’d probably be terrified.” That thought made me want to laugh out loud, so I did.

“What are you laughing at?” one of them asked.

“Oh, nothing man, nothing,” I said, looking away and scratching my head. “These are your friends,” I told myself again, but I didn’t really seem to believe what I was trying to tell myself that morning. “So what if they’re your fucking friends,” my new mind was saying. “They’re fucking losers, man. Don’t let them drag you down. You ought to just get out of here.”

That morning, I was feeling just hornier and altogether more fucked up than I’d ever been. I was thinking, nah, this can’t be the new me. I’m no motherfucking redneck. I don’t think like them. But already I was feeling excited, having this body, having these different feelings, realising that I didn’t feel like such an evil guy like this, not like I thought I would, anyhow. All I wanted to do at that point in time, I felt like, was get the hell away from these people. I didn’t know to where. I borrowed some shoes and a t-shirt that was so tight it hurt, pleading that I had to get back to my apartment. It felt like the shoes would split, and the shirt was riding up on my belly, as I trotted back to my place.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was gonna do. When I got home, I felt thirsty, just wanting to drink a little, feeling like that would make this feel better, even though I told myself no, you have to compose yourself, you have to call people, you have to report this. Just one drink, I thought. It turned into shot after shot, and before I knew it, I was drunk, hard in my boxers, having kicked off the shoes and thrown that tight-ass shirt on the ground as soon.

Then I was beating off, and cumming, and the build-up to that orgasm, man, it flooded my brain with some real redneck juice. I wasn’t thinking of the type of guys I usually did. I was thinking about redneck studs, studs like myself, feeling the drool run down my chin as I beat off. As I came, shooting way up on my pecs, rubbing it in with my hand, I was whispering to myself, almost like a confession that I had yet to voice to anyone, “You hot fucking redneck. Holy fuck, you love this, don’t you. You’re a redneck now. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

The desire to live for working out and fucking was already growing in me.

Thoughts were just racing through my head then. I knew I didn’t want to be some lame-ass yuppie or some weak-ass queer, man. I felt this powerful attraction to the redneck scene, the working class scene, the country scene, the military scene, the jock scene, you name it, any scene were men were men instead of the glitter fairy I had been before. I couldn’t quite pin it all down at that point yet, but my thoughts were sure racing.

Can you picture me, getting drunk in my apartment, turned on at my own body and swirling thoughts? And then I started to really know, man. I started to know. There was no going back now. The guy I used to be was a loser. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I was pissed off that I ever even was him.

I walked barefoot into the bedroom, checking out his stuff in the drawers and on the walls. Almost none of it would even fit me anymore. His feminine attire and the way his shithole apartment was decorated disgusted me. It made me want to punch the wall, even, so I did that and it felt good. I saw the paint crack and the drywall cave in. This new body had power.

I screamed then, a roar of pure rage and exhilaration. I punched the wall again, and it felt so fucking good that soon I was ripping all his shit off the walls and throwing it in a corner, ripping that flouncy shit off the mattress and I didn’t stop, screaming the whole while, until the bedroom at least look bare bones enough to resemble something a man would want to sleep in. I’d be damned if I ever let that loser back into this mind.

There were a few flashes, sure, and man was he a crybaby as he went out, as well as one hell of an angry little prick. Lots of hatred in his heart. I’d just laugh and say, “Fuck you!” sometimes out loud as I felt that twink brain collapse forever.

And now, as far as I’m concerned, he’s gone man. No longer a part of me, thank God.

I was nervous at first, when I started trying to hang out with guys I thought I’d have a lot more in common with that my old friends. Would they accept me? I was pretty desperate for acceptance at that point. I starting hanging out at a diner that I knew a lot of them liked to frequent, classic diner that pre-dated even the 1950s, a real antique. But these sexy ass guys would show up there, and soon we got to talking over waffles and hash browns.

Soon I was telling them I was darted, and they were saying that was hot as fuck, wanting to hear the story. Soon I was telling it to them, my legs in the air, sweat dripping down my bearded chin, as I was getting fucked.

Months after that, I was almost fully integrated into the lifestyle, man, and soon I was the one doing more of the fucking, especially after I got these sweet-ass tattoos all over my right arm. Getting fully into it, the desire to be that all I could be as man, hell, it ran in my veins now. I was going to let those commies know that I was better than them in every single way imaginable, and I wanted to show it off. I still get hard just at the thought of that, demonstrating my own superiority in the most tangible – well, to them, intangible, because I don’t want them even fucking touching me – methods available to me.

Yeah boys, it meant war for me, just like it had when I was a stupid twink, only this time I was playing for the other side, and it was chess instead of checkers.

Of course, there’s a lot more to life than just that for me, namely having hot-ass sex with all sorts of country studs and military men, hell, being part of that whole network of strong and powerful men who worship and respect other guys who’ve worked for it. I feel like I’m serving my country and being a paragon of virtue for it even when my legs are slung over some guy’s bull neck and thick, rounded deltoids as he plows the fuck out of me with his long-ass rod.

I had never gotten fucked this good when I was a twink.

I do real work with myself now, a man’s work. I dress like a man, I eat like a man, and I live my life like a man. I’m fucking proud of it, too. I love who I am now, and relocated to the other side of town, too, where the action’s hotter and I have way more in common with most folks.

I am sure glad I’m a buff stud with a thick-ass chest these days, and I don’t ever go clean-shaven. Been really into guy’s pits lately, and getting them to flex for me so I can lick those. Yeah, shit, I’ve gotta stop, because here I’ve got a raging boner just telling you all about that right now. I swear I’m way more horny than I used to be. At least seventy-five percent of the time now, I’d bet, I’m a top these days.

I don’t really like bottom boys, either. Their mere existence tends to piss me off, to be honest, so when I do fuck them I tend to be an aggressive power top. A lot of the time I don’t even think of it that way, though. I just think of them as so weak that the same rules don’t even apply to them. Different rules, in a way, because they’re a different kind of guy than me. Much more like women, unable to control themselves, you know how they are. I used to be one of them, and I’m so glad I’m not anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

A lot of the time I prefer to just fool around with guys such as myself. I love topping another top, having to wrestle somebody for hours in a strength and dominance competition. Gets the blood flowing. I like somebody who puts up a fight. C’mon, son, do you have any idea how fucking fun that is for me now? To meet up and hook up with another guy who’s just as manly as I am? That’s the stuff I live for now. I’m ready to just fuck my life away with hot ass guys at this point.

So, yeah, I’m a top who loves to wrestle with other tops and see who can dominate. I must be pretty good at it if I swear I’m scoring a seventy-five percent these days, but that’s just because occasionally I throw in some twink losers. Yeah bud, even some of these leftists get thrown a bone by me every now and again. They need us, and I like them to know they need us. They wouldn’t know what to do without us.

One of these days, I might even check with one of my army friends and see if I can come along on a mission so that I can dart one of them myself. I think I’d laugh my ass off when my dart goes in his neck or his shoulder, wherever it his him. Just to see the look on his face, shit boy. That could turn a guy on just by imagining it, so one of these days I’ll have to make it legit.

Fuck if I care about the loser I once used to be or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. My life is better now and that’s all that matters to me.

Hot-ass guys, man. That’s what I live for.

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part Eight)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

After Cillian disappeared, you managed to pull yourself back together and went upstairs to shower off the sweat that still permeated your body, but thinking about what you had just done and experienced with him, the anger inside you flared up again.

How could he have just left you like this after  what you both had just done together?

You expected him to stay, kiss you some more, prolong that intimacy for just a little longer, but instead, he just vanished, and it was hard not to think that he was ashamed of what happened.

Ashamed that he had just slept with his stepdaughter.

The guilt he must have felt though was one of the things that drove you even more towards him. But the shame and the cold apathy he displayed after everything was heartbreaking and frustrating.

You felt used and discarded, as if you were nothing more than a quick release to a deep craving he had and, with that on mind, you quickly finished  washing up before wrapping yourself in your towel.

You rushed out of the bathroom, hoping to avoid seeing Cillian before you could get dressed in the privacy of your bedroom and whilst you had considered to confront him, you quickly shook of that idea after realizing that it would be a waste of both of your time as he seemed to have made up his mind about the whole ordeal already. 

"Fuck," you cursed to yourself before slamming the door to your bedroom shut and leaning against it, closing your eyes and taking long, deep breaths.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and the aching throb from the aftermath between your legs reminded you of what had just transpired.

It made you wonder if that was just a dream - how could something so forbidden, so intense feel so right?

Anger overtook your emotions again, causing you to pick up a box of photographs you took before throwing it across the room. 

You breathed deeply and looked around the bedroom, surveying the damage. The box had shed its contents on the floor, but you didn't care and slumped on to your bed instead, which is when you heard a knock on the door.  It was soft, hesitant but still perceivable. You hesitated for a moment, considering whether to respond or pretend you weren't there. But eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you called out a cautious, "What do you want?" 

The door slowly creaked open, and Cillian stepped into your room. 

"I just wanted to talk ," he said quietly, his eyes downcast. He looked vulnerable, almost like a lost little boy.

You remained silent for a while, looking up at him and feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him how hurt you were by his actions. But at the same time, you couldn't deny the deep connection you felt towards him.

"You could have talked to me downstairs instead of running away," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Cillian looked up at you with a pained expression. "I know and I am sorry, but I am just confused," he admitted. He took a hesitant step towards your bed before sitting down on it, by your side.  "I haven't been happy for years, but I...," he trailed off.  "I..." he gasped before finally finding the words. "I am sure you agree that, all things considered, this was a huge mistake Y/N," he said in a low voice. "You are my fucking stepdaughter," Cillian said, struggling with his emotions as he looked at you, lying in your bed.

"Yes, it's wrong Cillian. I agree. But I do not agree that this was a mistake," you  disagreed, looking at him steadily. "I preempted this and I think you did too, so how could you call this a mistake?  We both came into this with our eyes wide open," you whispered, reaching out to touch his hand. "Despite, I don't want to think of my first time with a guy as a mistake," you said, causing Cillian's chin to drop.

"Your first time?"  Cillian repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved to cover yours, entwining his fingers in yours as he looked at you with confusion on his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"  Cillian asked softly, squeezing your hand gently.

"I don't know," you replied, your gaze dropping to your lap. "I guess I didn't want to ruin the heat of the moment. Despite, it's not that I am a virgin. I just never had sex with a guy. Only girls," you mumbled, feeling vulnerable and exposed under his gaze.  You looked at Cillian, who was still holding your hand and could tell that he was slightly taken aback.

"I shouldn't have left you like I did Y/N. I am sorry ," Cillian said, trying to make amends. "I just, fuck..., I wanted you so much and it scared me," Cillian confided in you.

His gaze drifted to the ground momentarily before meeting yours again. You could tell that he was struggling with his guilt, and that he truly did care for you.

"I know and I feel the same, but we did what we did, and we can't change it now," you whispered back. "So lets please agree that this wasn't just a stupid mistake, but rather something we chose to do, realising that there would be consequences." 

Cillian nodded, his eyes still focused intently on yours. "Alright, but what now?" he asked. "How do we move forward from this?"  Cillian asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched your eyes for an answer. "Because we both know that this cannot happen ever again," he told you and you took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I don't know," you admitted, sighing deeply until Cillian spoke up again. "What do you think?" you asked.

"Well, maybe it's best if we pretend that this didn't happen and that we did not cross that line," he told you reluctantly, knowing that this would be for the best 

You nodded, but you looked unsure. "Is that really what you want?" you asked gently.

"I think it would be for the best Y/N ," he replied silently and gravely. His face had tightened, making his sharp features even more prominent and, for a moment, you saw something akin to pain flicker through his eyes before he averted his gaze.

You nodded again, but you couldn't help but feel that this wasn't the end of the story. That there was more to come, and that the tension between you was far from resolved.

"Okay, let's do that," you thus told him. "Come tomorrow we will never speak of it again," you added and, for a short moment, there was an awkward silence that hung in the air between you two as you both realised what you had done.

"Alright, from tomorrow then, this never happened," he whispered before caressing your face gently with his fingertips. "Which means we still have tonight though, right?" he whispered,  his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded, unable to find words in response. All you wanted to do in this moment was kiss him, touch him, get lost in his intoxicating presence once more.

"Then, let's make the most of it," he said, his voice thick with desire.

He pulled you closer, his lips crashing onto yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. Your hands instinctively went to his hair, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss.

Your tongues danced together, and the kiss quickly became frenzied and hungry.

Cillian's hands roamed down your body, cupping your breasts over your towel before sliding under it to feel your bare skin. You moaned as his fingers found your nipples, already hard and sensitive to his touch.

"Just so we are clear, this still counts as a one time thing, correct?" you whispered as you broke the kiss, looking him in the eye as you spoke.

He nodded and leaned down to kiss you again, the heat and passion between you igniting as if it had never been extinguished.

"I am sorry that I left you there, in the living room, by yourself before," he said again as he pulled back from the kiss.

"Well, you better make it up to me then," you told him, before pulling him close to you once again.

Cillian made a strangled noise in the back of his throat before flipping you onto your back, his body pressing down on top of yours.

He caught your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep into your mouth. Your body ignited under him, lust surging through you.

"I will ," he promised roughly, his teeth scraping down your jawline while his hands worked their way down your stomach.

You gasped as his fingers slid between your legs, finding your throbbing clit and rubbing it in circles. She arched her back, giving him easier access as your body heated, needing more.

Cillian slipped a finger inside of you, satisfying a primal hunger that was still burning deep within him. You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck.

Your body tensed as he found your g-spot and ground his finger against it expertly.

You writhed under him, feeling his heavy erection press against your leg.

"Cillian," you moaned, your body begging for the release it craved. "Please, I need you inside of me," you whispered in his ear before biting down on the lobe, causing him to groan with pleasure.

He didn't need any more convincing. Cillian pulled off his t-shirt and boxer shorts while you unwrapped yourself, the white towel landing somewhere on the floor . The sight of your naked body underneath the dim light left him speechless. His eyes traveled over your soft, heart-shaped curves while your eyes investigated his arousal.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian muttered under his breath. "You're so goddamn beautiful."

"Uh-huh ," you managed to say, barely able to string a coherent thought together as Cillian's hands roamed over your body.

He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. You moaned, your back arching off the bed.

Cillian took that as a sign to continue, his teeth scraping over your sensitive nipple while his hand wandered down your body.

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing circles over it as his mouth traveled to your other nipple."Please fuck me already ," you whimpered, the anticipation building up inside of you.

Cillian didn't need to be told twice. He spread your legs wide open and positioned himself between them, his tip brushing against your slick entrance. He teased you for a few seconds before pushing into you gently, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he pulled out of you slowly. "You are not too sore?" Cillian asked in a hoarse whisper, as he slowly moved back inside of you, causing you to gasp with pleasure.

You shook your head as a response, wrapping your legs around his waist and urging him to move deeper. Your heels dug into his back, pulling him closer as your slick walls tightened around his shaft. Cillian groaned, the sound reverberating through your room and igniting your body into a blaze of passion.

"Why do you feel so fucking good?" Cillian groaned as he bottomed out inside of you , planting himself deep within your warm embrace before you grasped on to him and demanded to go on top, to ride him.

You were wetter than ever, your pussy eagerly clutching at his cock as you rode him like some sort of ravenous demon. He knew you needed it as much as he did and you forgot all about how sore you actually were from the constant penetration. 

Cillian was lost in you, his mind a haze of pleasure as you ground your hips against him, every glide of your pussy against his pelvis pushing him closer to the edge.

Cillian felt his balls tighten as a tingling sensation began to build at the base of his spine, and as you squeezed him with your legs, he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"Don't stop, Y/N - fuck, I'm so close," he managed to say between his labored breaths.

You answered with a deep, desperate moan, your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure overtook you. You could feel your body shaking and, with each passing second, the fire between your thighs began to burn brighter than ever."Oh god, please, yes. I want to feel you cum inside me again," you moaned as you moved up and down on him, feeling him grow impossibly bigger inside you.

He grabbed your hips and thrust upwards as you moved down, meeting your movements with his own. The room echoed with the sound of your skin slapping against his, your gasps, and moans of pleasure filling the air.

With each thrust, Cillian felt like he was losing himself more and more, letting the pleasure consume him until he couldn't think straight anymore.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his arms felt like jelly beneath him as he held on to you tighter, wanting to feel every inch of you.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian moaned as your walls tightened around him, the pleasure overwhelming you both. "I'm so close."

You nodded, unable to speak anymore as you threw your head back, letting out a guttural cry of pure bliss.

You had never felt anything like this before, a wave of pleasure that washed over you so completely and overwhelmingly, you could barely register the shock of it all as you orgasmed. 

Your hips were still pumping back and forth against him, milking Cillian for every last drop again, and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his seed coursing through his veins.

"I-I'm cumming," he gasped, his fingernails digging into your ass cheeks as you felt him swell, then pulse inside of you, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you.

"Oh god, Cillian!" you cried out, your own orgasm still ripping through your body as he spurted again and again into your welcoming heat. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, feeling him shudder beneath you as you rode out the incredible spasms that accompanied your climax.

Cillian groaned as he erupted deep within you, feeling your walls tighten around him as you moaned incoherently in ecstasy. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably now, exhaustion kicking in as you slowed your movements and eventually came down from your pleasure-induced haze.

The only sound that could be heard in the room was the sound of labored breathing - yours and Cillian's.

You collapsed on top of him, feeling his heart beat rapidly beneath your breasts, his spent manhood still buried deep inside of you.

Your bodies were both slick with sweat, your breaths heavy and unsteady. A feeling of exhaustion, coupled with a deep sense of satisfaction washed over you like a wave, leaving you feeling completely spent.

Cillian wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close to him as he pressed soft kisses against the side of your neck. You shivered, feeling a fresh surge of desire flow through you at the sensation, your pussy clenching around his still semi-hard shaft.

"Mmmhh...you still feel so good inside of me, Cillian," you murmured softly, nuzzling your face into his neck and breathing in his scent. His arm tightened around you in response, and you sighed with contentment.

The heat between your thighs slowly dissipated, leaving your body feeling warm and sated.

Your mind was still in a hazy daze, but as the sweat on your skin dried and the tension in your muscles began to ease, you knew that you both needed to get some sleep.

Eventually, Cillian broke the silence.

"I don't think I had sex that good in...I don't know...ever," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with pleasure and exhaustion.

"Oh please, as if,"  you murmured back, your own voice tinged with amusement as you lifted yourself of him. "You would have slept with many women in your days. Models, actresses , women you met on set, I am sure you had a wide selection to pick from," you replied nonchalantly, a small smile playing on your lips as you collapsed next to him. 

"Yes I have had my fair share of sexual partners in the past, before I, you know...," he began to say and you interrupted him.

"Before you met my mother ," you acknowledged with a smile playing on your lips, causing Cillian to nod, which is when you asked him a question that had been playing on your mind for a while.

"Did you ever cheat on her before?"  you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian looked at you for a moment, considering his answer carefully. "No," he said finally, "I never did. Not once. I got close, but I never went through with it because, at least until now, I respected her enough not to," he explained and you nodded understandingly, feeling a surge of gratitude towards Cillian for being honest with you. 

"Do you love her?"  you asked, unsure if you wanted to hear his reply.

Cillian's gaze softened as he looked at you, taking a moment before he answered. "No," he admitted quietly. "But I love Sadie and I love what we achieved together," he  went on, rubbing his hand over his face with tired resignation. 

"Is Sadie the reason why you married her ?" you questioned, allowing the conversation to go where no one had ever dared before.

"Pretty much," he replied, his tone softening as he gazed at you fondly, "I got married because of convenience after your mother told me that she was pregnant. It was a decision I made, thinking it would make me happy because I never really fell in love with anyone, but I wanted a family, you know," he said sadly.

You nodded, understanding what he meant. It wasn't uncommon for people to marry for reasons other than love, and Cillian had been honest about it. It didn't excuse the fact that he had been unfaithful, but at least it gave you some insight into why he made that choice.

"I am sorry," you eventually  whispered, reaching out to take his hand in yours.

He looked at you with a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes - sadness, guilt, and something else that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Don't be," he whispered back, squeezing your hand gently and you didn't know what to say after that, and the silence stretched on between you two as you both tried to process what had just happened.

"So what about you?" Cillian eventually asked after contemplating his question. "Why did you not have any other guy before me?" Cillian asked, tracing the outline of your hand with his fingers. "Because you are stunning and smart,..." he trailed off and you sighed, turning to face him.

" I've had girlfriends, and I fooled around with guys before," you explained. "But I don't think I was ever really attracted to guys in that way until recently," you confessed. "You are just different from the guys I have met," you told him softly, reaching up to stroke the stubbly jawline of his ruggedly handsome face. 

Cillian leaned in and captured your lips in another deep, passionate kiss. This time it was slow, lingering, and filled with tender emotion. You could hear your hearts beating in time with each other, and it felt like you were lost in a dream.

The weight of your decisions was incredibly heavy, yet all you could feel in this moment was a powerful connection between you and Cillian.

You kissed like this for a while  , with your hands in each other's hair and bodies pressed close, as if you couldn't get enough of one another. It was like a magnetic force was pulling you together, and you were both happy to give in.

Eventually, the kiss slowed, and both of you broke away breathlessly. The room filled with post-coital silence, the tension now finally dissipated.

"Well, it's getting late, we should get some sleep," you whispered, still wrapped in the warmth from each other's bodies.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Cillian replied, trailing a finger lightly along your shoulder.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" you asked softly, looking up at him through your eyelashes and Cillian hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"Alright," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

It was steady, rhythmic, and oddly soothing. You closed your eyes and felt yourself drifting off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth and safety of his embrace.

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[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 10)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds 📍

Part 10 Good Deeds

Alastor takes you out as promised, but work/hobbies call him away. Not that you mind, you have your own hobbies to pick up.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, references to racial violence, reference to a word that’s now very much a slur, Hate for Aubrey, inaccurate portrayal of how easy it was to drink, oh yeah murder, mentions of a dismembered body, bloody shoes, physics hijinks with a corpse, these idiots in love, gators aaaaaye baby, domestic fluff?? Kind of?? Did I do it?!」

I think about Emmett Till often. Though his heinous murder came after the time this story is set, what happened to him wasn’t an isolated incident. So it is referenced here in a sense, because I can’t stop thinking about him when I think about racial violence in the south both what it looked like before and what it looks like now. I don’t say anything explicit and change the act, but it is still important to warn you. If you don’t know about the tragic death of Emmett, here’s a site with links to articles and essays. Be careful, it is awful and his deceased and battered face will come up on some links, as his mother wanted the world to see what they did to her baby. It’s an image I cannot forget and I rightfully shouldn’t. I know it’s off to have such a heavy topic before this love story but this case is the kind that would motivate such a killer as Alastor, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to remind us of Emmett’s short life even if it’s done in a silly fanfic surrounded by nonsense. So forgive me for perhaps an odd real life addition, I’d be disappointed in myself for not addressing it when Emmett has been on my mind every time I think about the era someone like Alastor could have lived in. An era that did exist and people did live and suffer in.  An era not far removed from us, my father was alive when this happened.

Part 10 - Good Deeds

minors if you interact I will interpret that as a deep hate for me as a person so MDNI 👌🏼

“I’ve got to speak with the valet, go on ahead and find a table you like.” 

You didn’t want to do that at all, but knew Alastor wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want it. Well, he didn’t really ask, did he? He was certainly in his element, the shining and towering hotel every bit as pristine as his own public image.

It was as if every head in the room spun around to look at you. Everyone’s hair freshly styled, jewelry shiny and heavy, clothes immaculate. Your dress was lovely, no doubt, but no one looks at the elephant in her tutu at the circus and proclaims, “A ballerina!” This was, rather obviously, not your scene.

Alastor had presented the dress to you so sweetly, though. You woke up to find it hanging on the closet door hook, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. He had either waited for you to fall asleep to hang it or woken up before you for just the reason. It was red, his favorite color for you. The latest fashion, loose and straight. No corset. The neckline showcased a large, flat bow. 

“Partly a gift for me,” he had said as his hands slid down your sides when you had gotten dressed, “Such softness shouldn’t be hidden behind rigid boning.”

You settled into a large seashell shaped booth, the back coming up and over like you were the speck of sand yet to form into a pearl. The table was small, a glittering pattern under its shiny veneer. Everything was…glistening. Even the darkness past the windows seemed to be sparkling back at you. A few people turned to look you up and down, smiling and beginning to speak to their group before even turning back to them. 

You could wither, or bloom. So you learned back as if you were bored, legs crossed and feet gently shaking with anxiety or boredom, you hoped no one could sus out which. 

It was so odd. In your usual haunts, newcomers were greeted with curious smiles and maybe the tiniest suspicions. You were being picked apart to the bone by sharp stares and even sharper tongues, no matter how silent their jabs were to you. 

“They’re probably jealous.” Your head snapped up, when had Alastor made it in? “They look at you and know, ‘oh, that’s the kind of woman my husband would rather have a conversation with.’” You laughed, you absolutely could have stolen the attention and more from at least one of these women’s husbands.

“Perhaps they recognize these earrings, gone missing from their jewelry box earlier this year.”  You weren’t above accepting a woman’s stolen jewelry. It was her husband's fault anyway, might as well enjoy it. 

Alastor’s finger came to your chin, lifting your face further into the light, “Give em a good look, darling. I want them to eat their hearts out.” The blush that swept across your features was so fierce, the difference in temperature between your cheeks and your arms caused a chill to run down to your shins. He took a seat beside you, scooting up close and flashing that smile. A smile that had you chasing him into dark alleys and grabbing dead men by the ankles. 

A waiter came by, placing a drink in front of Alastor and asking what you’d like. You were so used to being in such spaces with the kind of men who answered for you that you didn’t reply immediately. When Alastor brought his drink to his lips, you realized it was you who was expected to speak. 

“Oh! A corpse reviver please.”

The man smiled and left with a nod. Alastor choked, hitting his chest with the fleshy part of his palm, “That was intentional, wasn’t it?”

You danced in your seat, “I’ve never been somewhere that has the stock for it that I was…allowed to order what I want.”

Alastor set his drink down and leaned back, shoulder pressing into yours teasingly, “I can’t imagine anyone disallowing you a thing.” With a sigh, you reminded him of the things you did to get your marks drunk and off their guard. You were surprised when he nodded like he remembered. “I saw that! You would sit so quietly on their laps. I remember thinking you were much more boring than you had initially made me believe.” You recoiled, and he shot you a look, “Who stalked who first, hm?” 

With a huff, you let it go. You weren’t actually sure the answer to that anyway. Focus let free from Alastor, you began to notice the looks were back. But no longer cutting into you, but wide and devouring. A few smiled at Alastor, some tipped their heads to him and offered a look of recognition. “Aren’t you popular.”

“I haven’t been out in awhile. They’re probably curious.” He took another sip, “Should be, atleast.”

A prideful smile slid up your face. You uselessly tried to mask it by licking your teeth. 

Something that happened when in public with Alastor that was unlike you was the tendency to become small. Not shrinking to provide him space; it was a turning in of your shoulders and touching of your knees in a subconscious effort to curl into a little ball of joy. Actively fighting the tug, you leaned back and opened your chest. An exercise in mental focus. 

“It’s weird. How you can be friends with my kind of people and….well, whatever is happening here.” Your hand waved at the room before you both. 

“My friendship with these people compared to our friends at the dives is…. A light bulb compared to a fire. One was manufactured to fit a need, one exists somewhat naturally.”

Tall and slim, body flat from collar bones to knees, a slip of a woman entered the room and you felt a shift in the atmosphere. Her hair was short and pitch black, fashionable to say the least. A few heads turned, a few upturned lips shifted into sneers. Side glances, hushed words, intentionally heard huffs. You turned to Alastor to find his face was as confused as your own. 

“Who is that?” You said it low, not knowing if she was friend or foe. 

“That would be Mrs. Aubrey Debreaux. Popular socialite and frequent hostess.” A sip of his drink, speaking about her like a character in a novel. “This icy reception is news to me though. She’s usually the life of the party.”

“She’s a real wet blanket now…Your circles seem really fickle. Always a bit of gossip.” You realized as soon as you said it that, well, that was the point. Alastor needed the gossip, and, well, he clearly enjoyed it.

“That’s what the wealthy do. Gossip and pretend the drama is as stressful as someone looking for their next meal.” Swirling his drink absentmindedly, his eyes followed Aubrey through the hotel bar. When you asked if he knew everyone there, he said it was his job to know people.

“Your job is in radio. You host a show, Alastor.” You laughed through your nose.

“Well, my other job.”

“I’d call that a passionate hobby.” Your hand came to rest half on his and half on the booth bench low and hidden, not wanting to monopolize, but he quickly took it and held it on the table. Another struggle to keep your shoulders from drawing inward.

The room moved on, forgetting you both were there and eventually about Aubrey too. Or so you had thought. When you drink was starting to mellow you, you turned to Alastor to admire the view. You’d come to enjoy that silence, the kind that only existed between people comfortable enough to know they didn’t need to entertain each other to enjoy each other’s company.

He was scanning the bar still, elbow on the table as he rested his chin there. From a distance of space or familiarity it could be seen as boredom. But up close and personal, you could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes.

“Golly, when in Rome!” Alastor hooted and grabbed you by the hand with one of his and carried his drink in the other, “Let’s go gossip. Bring your drink.”

He pulled you into a group of four people in a circle talking. They opened and let you both in, smiles warm. A clamor of excited ‘how long has it been’s, ‘how are you’s, and ‘you look well’s.

You’d expected him to ask for gossip like he’d said, but realized that’d be pretty conspicuous. Instead he waited, and when Aubrey passed by one of them rolled their eyes and he had his opportunity.

“What’s that look for?” He asked. 

Everyone got quiet and passed a glance between them. Finally a woman in a beaded dress and finger wave bob piped up.

“She reported a young boy touched her on the street.” Alastor watched Aubrey cycle through the groups as the friend spoke. “Grazed her hip with his hands, made a comment about white women as he did it.”

Alastor’s head whipped back around. “He got taken away that night.”

You gasped, hand coming to your mouth in sincere horror, “Just for touching her? Is he still in jail?” 

The woman’s lips pursed together, no one looking at you.

“Bless your heart. He didn’t touch her and he didn’t make it to the jailhouse, sugar.”

Suddenly the way everyone was looking everywhere but at each other sunk in. 

Panicked, you looked to Alastor. His expression was still, like the calm waters of a deep and foreboding bay. What horrors lie underneath? His tongue wiped across his teeth, and you reached out to take his drink from his hand. The action snapped him out of his daze for a second, expression softening a tad as he nodded a thank you.

If he shattered that glass now, people would remember. And when Aubrey went missing they may recall Alastor’s dramatic reaction. You knew his smiles intimately, the ones that were true and the ones that were illusions. The expressions of joy and the mask for his rage. The smile painted on his face now was nothing short of shallow.

You spent so many days in a bubble with Alastor, shielded by his grace or by the accepting and illegal circles you ran in that you sometimes forgot the reality of life. A dark privilege you hadn’t seen until you were the one looking naive for once. 

That’s right. The world was a bad place, of cruelty and injustice. Not just for you, or for parts of you, or for sides of you. Not just for women with smart mouths or a love of dance. No matter how safe the comfort of your friends and the dark halls you all commiserate in, no matter the like minds and mixed complexions of your peers, you were all just one cruel voice from being dragged into the night. Just a single accusation from being a whispered story in a glittering hotel bar. A headline no one would write. 

And some of you would be mourned more than others. 

You took a second, blinking rapidly to dry your eyes. 

“Apparently, she did it to get Hubert to leave his mistress’s apartment and come home.” A short man whose name you never got took a drag of his cigarette, “Worked. He’s been yapping all week about the state of New Orleans society and the importance of protecting the fairer among us.”

Alastor was quiet still, lips tight. You’d seen the photos in his home. You’d never discussed it, no need. Things can’t become normal if you’re always pointing them out. Plus, that was his piece to share. 

“Glad to see most of us here aren’t too keen to welcome her. I’d hate to have to find another bar.” Someone said, glancing around the room. “George just started making my martinis right.”

“Care to dance?” Alastor abruptly turned his entire body to you with a slick swivel on his heels.

You nodded, offering small polite goodbyes and setting your drinks back on the table before turning to him.

His open palm was outstretched and offering you a dance. You spread your hand over his and felt him hold you firmly before pulling you into him. 

He held you so close, much closer than anyone else on the dance floor. A scandalous lack of distance between you two. Quiet, Alastor’s eyes were distant. You were in front of him but he wasn’t seeing you. You let the song carry on a little longer for appearances before sighing into a smile.

“Why are we dancing when you have work to do? You have your tools.” Looking up at a man was rarely a view you enjoyed but the way his eyes slid down his nose and landed so sharply on you made it worth it. A look that said he’d devour you if he didn’t adore you so much. Your hand snaked behind his back to touch the hidden outline of this trusty little knife. He briefly wondered if this could be considered foreplay, the way he felt your hand on his lower back and running over his weapon. Much more intimate than he’d ever let anyone else be.

As your bodies swayed, the lights slid across the curve of his eyes and lit that bright honey brown color like a diamond twirling in the sun. The facets of his irises mesmerizing you. 

How terribly did you love him? 

How far would you fall for him?

“This would be a long one. You’d be waiting… could be a couple of hours. I need to be out of sight before she leaves.” A chill. Oh, you’d forgotten for a second, Alastor was a killer. He didn’t do it for ‘justice’ alone, he enjoyed what he did. Immensely. His voice had a note of giddiness and anger that didn’t mix well, but was oddly arousing. 

“Correction, I’d be dancing for hours. Drinking. Letting handsome men waste their money on me.” 

“Oh? Can they buy me a drink, too?”

You brought up your pointer finger, “You remind her of her humanity, and I’ll get a man to buy you a drink.” 

He linked his finger with yours. “I’ll need to give her special attention. She’s earned it.”

You loosely understood this wasn’t attention like you’d be given. This was attention that ran opposite affection. 

“I’m not here to be in your way, Alastor.” A quick kiss to your hand, one you hoped no one else saw. While no one here would be bothered by Brady, you still wanted to keep some semblance of confusion on what you two were to onlookers. 

His laugh was louder than you expected, a few heads turning, “Impossible. I’m always going wherever you are, dear.”

Would you never get up again?

“I’ll stay at the bar. If they close, I’ll just go to Beth’s.” Your fingers lingered in his, “Be careful. The best good deeds are done in the dark.”

A kiss to your nose. So gentle despite the topic. You could imagine it, the violent death of a woman. You could hear the sounds. Hers, his, the knife’s. A pang of guilt set in before you could remind yourself why this woman was going to die. A tiny smile settled on your face, he offered you a gentle command in return, “Understood, honey. Be safe.” 

You let him kiss your hand again and bow out of  the dance. You were doing it, it dawned on you as you watched him walk away. Truly kissing him goodbye at the door as he went off to work. The closest you’d ever gotten, atleast. 

He stopped by a group and said some quick goodbyes, apologies for leaving early, and left the hotel bar. 

You knew he had killed women before, Alastor was all for equality, but a part of you worried. Women tend to scream louder, and be heard more often, than men. A man screams and people just…keep walking. What would he do? Where would he do it?

With a sniffle, you let the jealousy of just what he would need to do to get her alone flutter away. Taking a seat back at your table, you sipped your drink and watched the others dance and chat. How odd, they could sway in such large places with big windows and bright lights with no fear of cops. Your scenes were dark, dusty, never seeing the sky. 

“He left ya?” One of the earlier women came by, someone you vaguely remember him nodding a ‘hello’ to at some point in the evening. 

Thankfully you were still quick on your feet. “Well, we came separately, of course we’d leave separately.”

A laughed, “Of course.” She leaned down, touching at your hair for a second, curiously, “Don’t hold your breath. But, it is nice he got you in here, huh? Must be a treat for you.” 

Your own laugh was just as abrupt as Alastor’s earlier, your hand coming to hide your smile. All you could muster was a nod. Yes, you stood out. Yes, you didn’t fit in with these people for many reasons. But, it wasn’t your first time in nice spaces. First time not pressed into a man who’d been made to believe he was more important the whole time, but still. 

It took two more drinks for Aubrey to leave. But there was a problem. As she was trying to bow out of the room, a man kept hooking his fingers under the loose belt of her boxy drop waist dress.

With practiced skill, you took note of where her eyes lingered on him, how her hand came to his arm but didn’t actually press him away. Not earnestly.

The pushy man saw it too, every little soft ‘no’ was a half ‘yes’. And Aubrey seemed to like that. It was almost ironic, given what she had done, how she egged on the younger man before her now by pretending she didn’t want him. His hand landed on her hip forcefully, her hand on his chest gingerly. He leaned in close, she pulled away barely.

The next act was the most classic to women of your era. The false exit.

Aubrey whispered something, he nodded eagerly and his many hands returned to himself.

She smiled at the back of everyone’s heads, as nearly no one would look her way, and she slipped out the doors.

You couldn’t stop yourself from shimmying as you slid from your booth. Barely a step away, you leaned back and grabbed the last sip in your glass. You swished it around your mouth like listerine, and swallowed it. Before you got too close, you pinched your cheeks until your eyes began to water.

You’d just found a way to make yourself useful.

“Whoopsie Daisy!” You giggled, shoulder colliding with the man’s chest as you stumbled past.

“Watch - ooh, hey,” the free hand that had come to keep you from getting closer quickly softened, curling around your waist. The same hand that’d just been on the socialite. You were sure to look up and sigh into him, your breath soaked in alcohol. “You okay, doll? Had a bit too much?”

With glassy eyes you nodded, closing them and letting your head nod lazily, “I lost my thing!” You laughed, hitting his chest.

“Your what? I happen to be a thing.” 

How quickly he forgot his target when easier to pick fruit appeared.

“No, silly!” A practiced hiccup, “my little…”

“Your little…?”

Your fingers wiggled in the direction of your hip.

“Purse!” A beaming grin. He asked if you needed help finding it. “Well, how else am I gonna get another drink!” The hand on your waist fell to your hip and slunk lower. 

“Oh well, I could help ya with that.” He leaned in, looking around first as if he had a secret, “I have a room upstairs.”

You tutted, “No no, I am a married woman!” He lifted your left hand, turning it over in a dramatic search for a ring. “Well, engaged…” you diverted your gaze. He lifted his hand to his brow then and scanned the room like a sailor to the horizon. “He’s working late.” You whined.

Why did his kind of man always want the taken woman? Did they think the chase was more meaningful then? Did they feel like they’d won some tug-of-war with an invisible, unaware opponent?

Maybe they were hardwired to hoard resources.

You let him seat you at the bar, and when he ordered you a drink you asked to know your savior’s name. William.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor was none the wiser, smoking a cigarette under the streetlamp just off to the side of the hotel awning. He didn’t smoke often before you, but he found the lure of sitting on the porch passing a pill between you both too hard to fight. And soon enough the habit grew from a drinking pastime to just… something to do with his hands.

As Aubrey appeared, waiting for her driver to retrieve the car, Alastor tossed the butt to the street and walked up on her.

“I’m quite cross with you, Aubrey.” His tone was smiling as his hand slid behind her neck and tugged her away from the safety and lights of the awning.

“Oh! Alastor, I’m actually waiting for my car.” She struggled to keep up with his pace in her heels, weakly pointing back to where the valet had stood earlier. She resisted a little, the palm on the nape of her neck silently shutting her down.

“Nonsense. We have business together.” Alastor let his hand fall to her upper arm as he yanked her into the closest side street. “I hear you’ve been a very bad girl.”

Aubrey huffed, pulling back against him once, then twice, but ultimately acquiesced when she could see his car down the street.

“Fine, you can drive me home then.” A misplaced giggle, her survival skills dulled by ego.

He tossed her roughly against the car, hand gripping her face tightly. She tried to say his name, but his hold was so firm her jaw was locked.

“You’re going to get into my car now.” Alastor’s eyes had lost their pupil, an expanse of a seemingly endless dark brown in the heavy shadows left by the lamp’s light. When he let her face go, she rolled her eyes and pulled open the back seat door.

That wasn’t what he had meant, not there, but he closed the door behind her and got into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t brought the tarp tonight, not expecting to need it, so maybe the backseat was his best option regardless.

When he pulled away, she reminded him he didn’t know her address.

“I’m not taking you home. I told you. I have a bone to pick with you.” Alastor found himself incapable of putting on a ruse for her. His patience was entirely lost in his unraveling anger.

“Oooh? A bone, you say. Well, well.” Aubrey leaned forward onto the front seat, hands snaking down his shoulders and chest so she could nip at his ear, “Finally letting me have a ride.”

He had to set his right hand in the darkness of his lap to hide the tremble, a disgusted rage manifesting in uncommon ways. 

As her fingers found the buttons of his waist coat, Alastor struggled to see the road in front of him. His vision was going white, and then red. His blood pressure was so high he was nearly blind. 

And when two hot fingers broached the small space between buttons of his dress shirt and touched the bare skin of his chest, the car came to an abrupt halt. The force threw her into the backseat. 

Alastor slammed the front seat door shut before opening the back and caging her in. “I can’t stand another second of your existence.” She crawled backward, making room for him. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

Aubrey settled her back against the opposite door, “Oh, the petit mort.”

His head hung low in frustration, a growled  “No, the big one.” as he raked his fingers through his hair to keep from punching his own car seat.

“So I’ve heard.” She pulled up the hem of her dress slowly.

“For fucks sake Aubrey! I’m not using double entendre!” His hands wrapped around her neck. “Must I really remind you of what wrongs you’ve committed?!”

A brief panic finally came, “Wrongs?? Excuse you.”

He could have sworn the snap in his brain had been audible to her as he lost his last bit of patience.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Excuse me.” You settled back into the seat, having taken a bathroom break to down some water in secret. You weren’t trying to actually end up blacked out.

“Anyway,  that's how we secured the riverside house.” William leaned into you. You tried to sip your drink and found it empty, having managed to finish it absentmindedly while he rambled on about himself earlier. As you stared at him you let your eyes lose focus and drift into plans for the morning. You’d like biscuits. Alastor had some sausage he’d picked up the other day, maybe a little gravy and some eggs. It’d be like a Sunday meal nice families ate after church. You assumed. Out of the peripheral of your daydream you saw him tap the bar twice and hold up two fingers. “Charge to 1033.” He said. With the clarity of someone who wasn’t pretending to be drunk you quickly held up three.

William shot you a confused look.

“One for my darling.” He made a show of looking around, the bartender pausing. You gave him a confirmation nod, “Three, please.”

“And is he in the room with us now, Helen? I’m beginning to think he’s imaginary.”

It seemed a fine enough name to give him.

“No! But I made a promise. Or…,” you returned the lean, head resting on his shoulder, “are three drinks a little steep for you?“ With a huff, he pulled out a pair of C notes and set them on the bar. The bartender nodded, reaching for the top shelf. You whistled at the sight. Too much money for the total seven drinks he’d ordered, if you weren’t somewhere Alastor frequented you’d have slipped them under the lip of your stockings when the man wasn’t looking. He was charging the room anyway, the large bills were just for show…

“One reviver for the miss, one brandy for the sir, and a rye whiskey neat for the beau.” The bartender set the drinks down on red napkins. The whiskey sat between you both, and after a beat you realized you hadn’t actually told him what to make for Alastor. And come to think of it, your last drink hadn’t been a reviver at all but a brandy ordered by William.

“Ya know I stood up another woman to help you,” he said it into your cheek, stealing your attention by breaking your line of thought. His arm around your shoulder curled to hold you closer, “Don’t I get a reward for that?”

His breath reeked of sickeningly sweet brandy, the taste sticking to the back of your throat. Your head tilted back so you could look at him down your nose, right hand coming to rest on his thigh.

The heat of his body was radiating through the fabric of his pants and made your stomach turn. How many hot and sweaty bodies had you had the pleasure and displeasure of touching?

A smirk painted your face, remembering seeing sweat sticking to Alastor’s forehead the last time he fucked you. What had you done for that reward? Ah right, the somehow shocking act of not withholding praise for how well planned out his greenhouse was. How impressive he was to you in so many ways. You could have lingered on that recollection, on how Alastor set down his coffee and kissed you. And how he didn’t stop until you were both left undone and flustered. But movement stirred away the pleasant memory to bring you back to an unpleasant reality.

His hand roamed down your arm, uncomfortably warm palm on your exposed skin. 

“Oh, I know you did.” You said.

William chuckled, absolutely no idea what you were talking about and not particularly giving a shit. “Did I mention I have a room here?”

“Ten thirty three.” You repeated. 

He looked genuinely shocked, “How’d you know that?” The man was absolutely mystified.

“I— you just…,” your mask slipped in the face of such abject stupidity, “Lucky guess.” William drank his brandy slowly, mentioning you should bet on the ponies together. You nodded. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor didn’t care for strangulation. It took so much time and wasn’t particularly satisfying. No pleading, no screaming, no blood and gore. Just…. someone flailing beneath you and turning purple. Boring. 

He brought up the accusations before he began to squeeze, and her panic transformed to relief. “Oh that?” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down, “Are you really miffed at me about that?”

“Yes, Aubrey! You condemned an innocent child to a horrid death!” His hands loosened, all of his neurons firing off to feel pain in his own heart. 

She rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t call them children. You seem so upset, hun. Did you have a mam-?”

The rest of the word was barely squeaked out of her, he couldn’t let her finish it. He wasn’t sure what face he made. But whatever it was, it scared her. The carefree way she’d been handling the interaction finally died, and he could register actual fear in her eyes then. 

But the rage just … withered. How many children had his mother loved and doted on before her last, much kinder position? How many Aubreys had she raised. It was nothing short of an overwhelmingly violent sadness that laced his finger together around her neck and tightened, the full weight of his body coming down to crush her airways. He wanted such sentiments to be smothered out of the world like the air in her lungs. If he killed enough, could he make a dent in their influence? He could try. For her. For his mother. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Ya know, I could take real good care of you. If that’s what’s stopping you from coming upstairs.” 

With a deep breath, you gulped the drink halfway down. “Your fella doesn’t need to know. I could even get you your own place, you could wait for me there when he’s late with work. Have dinner ready. Slip off my shoes like a good girl.”

“Trust me; you’ve got a better chance of her smacking you with your shoes than slipping them off like a maid.” Alastor was resting his elbow on the bar behind you, head leaning on his hand. “Hey doll. That one mine?” He pointed at the glass.

“Oh? Alastor is the fiancé?,” William gave off a snide laugh as he was interrupted, Alastor standing up and walking to come between you two, “This guy?! Everyone knows he’s a frigid bitch. You must be a dive alley-cat if you’re—,” Alastor’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, eliciting a sickening crack. He needed both hands to keep himself from falling down with William as he was knocked back out of his bar stool. Alastor’s feet slipped on the spilt brandy, causing him to seize the stool for momentary support.

Alastor took the glass of whiskey with his non-dominant hand and downed it. He cooed, “Top shelf, Georgie?” The bartender nodded. “Good choice. Picked a worthy sucker, sweetheart. Ready to peel?”

You watched William try to stand, glass stuck to his palm. He did manage to get on his knees, shouting at the staff who stood motionless and unphased behind the counter. They didn’t say anything at all, oddly, until Alastor extended his swelling hand to you.

“Have a good evening, sir.”

Alastor flashed his signature smile and guided you out of the hotel bar. You only got a few steps before quickly running back and snatching one of the 100$ bills from the counter. William would’ve taken it back from the bar anyway. What a waste!

When a waiter offered Alastor a warm and familiar look you had to wonder, did people really not know what he did in the darkness of the New Orlean’s alleys? Did a part of them not feel some kind of debt to him? Or was he just painfully friendly when socializing?

“Just to be clear,” Alastor let the doorman open the lobby door, “It’s not the accusation of sex work that compelled me to sock him. It’s the implication you’d be cheap.” He waved the valet from the car and opened the door for you, “If you chose to sell your companionship at true worth, his daddy’s money couldn’t even buy him a kiss.”

“Aww,” you smiled at him through the thin windowpane, “Would you really be so cavalier about such a job if I did?”

“Would I? Gosh that’d make retirement much quicker for me.” He slid into the driver's seat and the door shut with a sharp ting. As he took hold of the wheel he reclined to let his hand settle behind you on the backrest, and then you three were off. 

“Oh by the way, Aubrey’s in the backseat.”

You turned slowly, first coming into view were her tiny, shining silver shoes. Your eyes kept traveling; stocking covered calves and then the bottom of her dress just past her knees.

Alastor’s coat draped over her torso and shoulders caused you to flit to him, confirming his jacket was gone, and back to her. 

Her face looked like that of a sleeping passenger. 

No blood.

When the car was a few blocks from the hotel, you leaned back and lifted the jacket. Her abdomen was clean, the white of her dress pristine. At first her neck seemed clear of cuts or abrasions until you rode past a streetlamp and a beam of light revealed the slowly forming collar of bruises.

Special attention.

For a hair of a moment you began to gently cover her again, before remembering her crimes and dropping it on her unceremoniously.

“Trunk not good enough for her?”

“Got interrupted. Booked it back to you.” He shook his head and patted the seat in tandem.

What luck that just as he felt sure she was too far gone for revival, he let go over her neck and sat up in time for someone to notice him. Fishing in his jacket draped over the seat, he found his cigarette case just as—

“What exactly are you two doing?” An officer was flashing his light through the passenger side back window.

Alastor froze, Aubrey motionless between his legs and a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips. “You startled me, officer! We were just canoodling. But she’s gone and fallen asleep before the main event.”

The officer’s brass light shone down but couldn’t reach the dead woman’s face past the shadow cast by the car door and glass. “She alright?”

Alastor’s eyes drifted down to the deceased socialite, “Truth be told sir, she’s had a bit too much of the giggle water.” Fishing your lighter from his waistcoat pocket, he lit this cigarette before setting the jacket over Aubrey like a gentleman.

“Alright y'all better get lost. Tell your moll this ain’t ladylike.” The officer tapped the window with his knuckle and when she didn’t stir just left with a huff.

Alastor was quick to leave the backseat and drive off, circling around at the next block to head back to the hotel.

“Is… everything alright?” You asked, very obviously concerned.

“Peachy! I just said we were necking before she passed out drunk.“ he leaned over and kissed your cheek, “Anything exciting on your end?”

Patting his leg you beamed up at him, “Always so quick on your feet! I don’t know why I worry so much.” His face lit up and you wanted nothing more than to launch into a praise filled rant that fueled his smile. But, you moved on to the question at hand. After a moment to think, you remembered ‘the best good deeds are done in the dark’. “Nope! Just got tipsy on William’s dime. An odd woman did touch my hair…,” you recounted every second, leaving out why you chose William, to Alastor. You hadn’t meant to, and he hadn’t actually asked, the evening’s events just seemed to flow out of you. The way he always added little comments and nodded made it feel like a conversation and not just you rambling. 

When the car was pulling into the driveway, you asked Alastor if you could drive it behind the house. Puzzled, he put it in park and let you sit between his legs. You started slowly, but quickly began to accelerate. As you approached the house you turned sharply to the left, right side tires ever so slightly leaving the ground. A sharp correction to the right to straighten out. One of his hands clutched you at the waist, the other gripping the seat.

He tried to form some kind of words but they came out a jumbled and panicked mash of sounds as you barreled toward the greenhouse. 

You slammed your foot on the brakes and Aubrey flew off the back seat and hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Ha!” You slapped the wheel, “I’ve been wanting to hear that sound the whole drive!” 

He used both arms now to squeeze you appreciatively, “You’re just the bee’s knees.” Alastor nuzzled into the back of your neck, truly feeling his heart flutter. You made him skip a beat. So many days and nights not even imagining such a pairing.

The best scenario he could think up was a partner who wouldn’t ask questions, who didn’t care to know, who was maybe a little too naive but otherwise capable. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t dared to think someone would exist who could support him.

And not just in the killing, which was a hurdle of course, but the other parts of him. The little sacrifices you made for him without complaint. 

What did he do for you, he worried. Your body was his on the occasions he wanted but never did you ask for him. You shared the housework equally. Yes he drove you around but your skills with the car were still new. Insignificant things, like making your coffee when he awoke first and waiting for you after work. With the detective still looking for connections, he couldn’t even properly introduce you or flaunt you around to his circles.

Like a flash of lightning taking down a tree, insecurity shook him. What on earth was keeping you there? Of all the people in New Orleans, how was he any more worth your time than the next?

If anything, he was nothing short of troublesome. His hold on you twisted from thankful to desperate.

Even the lovely evening out he had promised you, he’d left you alone in a strange place. A stranger had bought you more drinks than he had. 

“Would you like to go to the woods with me tonight? To dispose of Aubrey?” His lips swiped across the fabric of your dress as he said it.

The sudden advancement into his hobby took you by surprise. You hugged his arms against you, “Really? Are you sure?”

“If you don’t want to…”

“Is that what I said?”

“Well, no….”

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I absolutely want to go!” Your arms squeezed his.

He chuckled into your shoulder and gave your hip a pat, “Let me get her packaged up. You go rest your feet and I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go.”

You watched from the kitchen, the light he hung from the greenhouse ceiling setting the entire space aglow. When he finally emerged, his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his hair was falling into his face, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose before he could push it back into place. He waved from the porch, and when you made it out to him he was already pulling out small bundles.

“We’ll bury the pieces in separate places.” He dragged out a small trash tin with the lid already clapped down. “And this goes into the water.”

The packages were like Tommy’s, but smaller. They fit easily into the trunk, and beside them he snuggly fit the metal bucket.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Ford was parked down a dirt road far from sight, taking a parcel at a time and a shovel, you followed him into the woods. 

You had to ask, why not just his land? Wasn’t that safer? Easier?

“Well, a skull found out here is easier to act shocked about than on my property.”

The ground was still soft, but you could imagine it was rock solid in winter. “Isn’t this dangerous? Aren’t you slowed down in the colder months?” You kept your eyes open wide, adjusting to the pitch black of the forest. The trees were too close and too full still to see the stars. But soon they’d brown and die, revealing the sky’s light. Revealing Alastor.

“Eh it’s mostly busy during mating season because the hunters come out in numbers. But in general I avoid being here in the very early morning hours.” He paused and you reached out for the shovel for your turn, “It’s not too bad overall.”

“They mate in fall. It’s almost fall now.” You widened your stance for balance and began to dig. 

“Yeeees but I’m not alone!” He chirped.

“Fine… just, don’t come out when I’m not able to join you. Just wait or, I don’t know, burn them or something.” You tried to dig fast, wanting to spare his injured hand another turn.

“Very ineffective, brings too much attention and the body never burns all the way. It’s still identifiable in many cases.” Alastor said it quickly, as he’d had nearly a lifetime to think of these things and test them. 

You huffed, “Well, fuck. Okay. Still.” You leaned over and offered your index finger, not looking at him as you did. He laughed before wiping his hand clean on his pants and hooking his with yours. 

A small scream erupted from you, startling him. Your short heel sunk into the dirt when you leaned to lock fingers. The sudden loss of balance startled you. “Sorry… flat shoes. I need flat shoes…these are gonna be the death of me.”

Alastor’s hand came to his heart, pounding in his chest, “Of us. My heart nearly stopped.”

You dug many holes, all of them quite small in radius, just wide enough to slip in what you needed to. After each was deep enough by some standard you didn’t know, he would untie the twine around the package and let the contents spill out and down into the little cylinderical pocket of dirt. 

The first package had her hands. Then next was her feet. Her arms in pieces and then later her legs. The hips, the chest and shoulders, and finally, her head. You were grateful for the darkness, not wanting to see her face now that it was no longer attached to her body. 

The brush was so thick and the woods so dense that you found it hard to distinguish the burial spots once they’d been filled in and covered up. He explained most people came out there with a purpose, not really noticing some disturbed dirt here and there. It’s not like they’re people sized.

“You’re just something else, ya know that?” You said it into the shadows and didn’t see him wince. But you somehow, accidentally, knew to clarify, “I’m always so impressed by your way of doing things. You’ve really thought it out well huh? I know I should worry less but it’s hard.”

Because of the shade you didn’t see the way his shoulders relaxed. You never made him regret your inclusion.

Alastor carried the bucket as you slowly made your way through the darkness. You could hear the sounds of bugs, though you couldn’t see any.  The water surprised you, his arm coming to stop you from walking into the bayou.

“In winter they’ll get really still, so I slow down then too. But we still have time, it’s not too cold yet for them.” He took off the lid, the smell of copper blossoming from the tin.

With practiced moves, he tossed the viscera as far as he could into the small inlet marsh of the river. 

Within seconds the water frothed and rolled with the snapping of powerful jaws.

“Gosh they’re so neat.” You said, reaching out into the darkness for his hand. You couldn’t see him looking at you as you watched the prehistoric animals dispose of his crimes.

He wanted to kiss you. To confess every little happiness you filled his formerly hollow chest with. But he held back. He knew better. He’d tried before, once. When he thought settling was better than nothing. It ended terribly. It was better to just exist beside you for as long as you’d entertain his company. If you knew, he thought, of all the futures he imagined with you, you’d just feel tied down by his hopes. You weren’t a small bird he could hold in his home. 

You promised to not get in his way. The least he could do was not cage you with his love. He wouldn’t hold you back.

“Alastor.”

“Yeah?” He said dreamily.

“I think… ” You fought the urge to scream at the sensation between your toes, “Aubrey dripped into my shoes.”

Alastor yanked the bucket away from you, the angle he haphazardly held at it with a single finger to hold your hand having caused the liquid remains to leak out.

“Ankle boots. Ankle boots, no heel.” You muttered, the shoe rinsed off in the water with a paranoid speed now squishing under your sole. The action was enough to draw attention to your shore, long and round snouts moving toward you in the night as you got rid of Aubrey. It was time to go. 

The drive home was dark and silent. The bucket and tarps rinsed with the gas can full of water he always kept in the oversized, custom built trunk. It had taken longer than you had realized, which just brought up renewed worry for his sleep schedule.

When you finally made it home and into the bedroom, he mumbled it was too late to shower. A coordinated grumble between you that you’d both just wash the sheets in the morning. Alastor sat on the end of the bed and bent down, your hand coming to his shoulder to stop him. 

Exhausted, aching, and quite confident you smelled of sweat coated dirt with the tiniest hint of dead Aubrey mixed with alive William (blood and brandy, respectively), you lowered yourself to your knees. You untied the waxed laces of the right shoe, made of a shiny brown leather, and slipped it off. 

Alastor felt his throat tighten as he had to blink to keep tears away. You always seemed to listen when he spoke. Really listened, even when he was just being playful. Another tiny sweetness piled onto the mountain you were currently burying him under. Another ounce of inadequacy tipped on his self measured scales.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Hush, I don’t have to do anything.” You said it and he laughed breathlessly knowing he’d heard it before and praying he’d hear it forever. “I want to.”

You set the left shoe beside the right. When you didn’t stand but instead stared at him patiently, Alastor undid his pants and lifted his hips to push them down. You folded them neatly beside his shoes. Feeling up his legs as if you couldn’t see them there in front of you, you found his sock garters. 

“Keep the socks, please. It’s getting chilly.” He undid his shirt and folded it on his lap. 

When he was in just his underwear and socks, you looked up at him and wondered if he knew. That this was the closest to expressing “I love you” you had ever been. The act itself perhaps far louder than any words could be.

Sitting back, he patted between his legs like he had in the car. As you sat, he undid the buttons down the back of your dress. Why were so many women’s clothing items made in a way that required two people?

In the mirror above the dresser you took in the sight. When the dress fell to your waist he kissed your shoulder and met you in the reflection.

“Quite a pretty couple, if I do say so myself.” He rested his chin where he had just kissed and smiled at you. “What did I do to deserve your attention?”

“Affection,” you corrected. “Aubrey got attention.” He nodded slightly. “I think it’s karma.” You watched his brow arch. “You’ve earned me. Whatever that means, or looks like. We were put together for a reason.”

It was the sappiest thing you’d ever said and a year ago you’d have laughed in someone’s face for saying it. If a character in a novel spewed it out in a confession you’d have closed the book. But you meant it. Every single word was part of the fact this was supposed to happen. The idea that any timeline existed where your paths never crossed gave you the shivers.

Alastor closed his eyes, exhaustion catching up quickly as comfort opened the door for it. That didn’t make any sense to him at all. Why would anyone, god or the devil, give him something good just for the sake of being a good thing. He was very plainly bad. There must be a catch. That fear he felt before, the fear of wanting something too much, reappeared. Turning its ugly head to him as if called by name. 

Why? He could feel something, someone, setting their sights on him. 

When he opened his eyes, you were there still, looking at him. A smile too sweet. He felt the compulsion to tell you to run. That if this was his karma, it would end the way he deserved. And he didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve you.

But instead he leaned down, lifted your dress, and unclamped your garters. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to cling to what good he had now. Even knowing he couldn’t possibly get to keep it. His fingertips delighted in rolling down the delicate nylon. He watched the red stained end loosen around your toes, a mental note to burn them before he continued his undressing.

“Lift your hips, my love. I’ll get you all ready for bed.” As he pressed forward and bent into you so he could slip off the stockings he turned to look at the you in front of him, “And I’ll keep you warm.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

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@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[strawberryicedcookies]

HOW I MANIFESTED HANGING OUT WITH MY SP IN UNDER 3 DAYS.

this post is about my last sp update!! im going in depth on how i did it because yesterday i was so excited and typing on alot of adrenaline, so i didnt even go into enough detail on how i did it 😂😂.

When i first started affirming for him, i didnt believe my affirmations, but thats why i was affirming. I never want you guys to think you need to believe your affirmations right away. I was constantly affirming that he needed me, he loves me, we always hang out (hanging out with him was the main goal.)

When i first started manifesting him, we werent even close friends at all, but one thing about manifestation, everything will pull you to your desire. EVERYTHING that happens will bring you closer to your desire.

I would affirm ATLEAST 10k times a day (using the counter app), i did guided meditations EVERY NIGHT for those 3 days, i did SATS, subliminals, affirmation tapes, self concept work. Baby i was SATURATING MY MIND (doing my 3 day challenge).

After the first day, i genuinely believed that he was mine, i believed that i was dating him, it felt so natural. Then he texted me out of the complete blue, we started texting ALL DAY and the next day we talked at school all day, he texted me when we got home, we were just talking all the time. I wasn’t done though, i was manifesting that we would hang out and i wasn’t stopping until we did 🤷🏿‍♀️ i wasn’t about to take a half-assed manifestation, i wanted to hangout with him, so i was going to (this was day 2 btw).

I never stopped affirming bro, i persisted persisted persisted. The next day randomly my sister said her friend was going to pick us up and we were going to window shop at target. I was still manifesting in my head at this point, i knew that my SP was going to hangout with me, i just didn’t know how. Then my sister suggested that we eat at mcdonalds before we go to target, so we go to McDonalds. When i got there, some of my friends (they were also mutual friends with my SP) were already eating there so i decided to talk with them. (my SP was still not there, and tbh, i didnt know if he was coming at all. but i wasnt even worried about that, I knew we were going to hangout today regardless). Next thing i know, after about 30 minutes of talking with my friends, i see SP walking up to the mcdonalds after his basketball practice!!! We start talking and we end up staying there for like another hour or so. Then, when the whole group finished eating (it was like 6 of us at this point). he got into my friends tiny ass car with me and my friends and some of his friends 😂 (for reference it was 6 of us in a 4 seater) so me and my SP were SO CLOSE. We had the most fun hangout!! (we never ended up going to target, thats the most ironic part 😂 if we had went to target right away, i would’ve never seen my SP. Thats why i say that everything is pushing you closer to your manifestation.) 3 DAYS IS ALL IT TOOK , because i ASSUMED thats all it would take. I wasnt overthinking, i wasnt worried about when it would happen, i knew that all i needed was 3 days, and i left it at that. STOP WORRYING ABOUT THE HOW!!! Everything is working to bring your manifestation to you, rest assured!!

if you assume that you can manifest them instantly, then you can. Its whatever you assume that manifests. In my success story post, i showed yall a little bit of my affirmation list, and yall SAW that he did EXACTLY WHAT I AFFIRMED. Manifestation is PERFECT, whatever you affirm WILL HAPPEN, not slightly, FULLY!!

so to wrap it up, how is manifested hanging out with him and having the fun of my life.

-long ass affirmation list that i repeated

- SATs and guided meditations

- robotic affirming (with and without the counter app

- constantly listening to affirmation tapes/subliminals

-living in the wish full filled (i believed he was mine and that we always hang out)

- detaching and not focusing on how it would happen

- did not overconsume manifesting tips, i knew how you manifest, so i put it to practice

- saturated the FUCK out of my subconscious

- hella self concept work.

REMEMBER!! methods dont manifest, YOU DO!!

[vigilskeep]

do you have any refs for Minerva’s relationship with the other dao companions? I did not realize she and leliana was estranged 😭 also if im remembering correctly she makes loghain do the dark ritual? sorry I do like spinning her around in my head and knowing the little details she’s such a great character!!

leliana and minerva did not have a clear breakup in the alistair minerva sense but they did grow apart because of the simple reason that post dao minerva becomes politically at odds with the chantry while leliana is serving its leader. leliana is not a type of person minerva finds very easy to like or trust so while they did grow on each other over the course of dao they never had a simple friendship in the first place

alistair you probably know about bc its kind of the cornerstone of minervaposting but theres a post fully explaining it not much further down in her tag

zevran is her romance <3 i hesitate to use the word “soulmates” exactly but they definitely fit together in a way no other minerva pairing could match

morrigan she has a weird close complicated vaguely homosexual friendship with, i’m sure this is par for the course for f!wardens. they probably could have been in love if morrigan had been willing to pursue it in the start and if minerva hadn’t already gone for someone else by the end, and all that is unspoken but very present in everything about them

sten is i guess kind of the typical high approval relationship as presented in game? not much more unique. a lot of respect a lot of arguing a lot of dry humour. they could hang out in silence comfortably and they’re also both know and respect that they’re very capable of killing the other if their greater purposes ever demand it

oghren she kind of doesn’t pay much mind in origins when she doesn’t have to but he becomes part of the family in awakening. they bond over having their insane shared experiences of the blight, and also over him trying to quit drinking and her trying to quit blood magic which leads to some really wild out of context conversations for the others. and hey, eventually over first attempting to parent at similar times

wynne she has a bit of a sharp relationship with. i think this could vary a lot if i pick her up earlier, but in my main minerva playthrough i picked her up late by which time minerva had absolutely no fucking interest in getting the kind of lectures she grew up with. sorry grandma </3

uhhhh who else. shale idk man im sorry for being a fake fan but shale’s dlc truly does nothing for me it’s unfunny and i dont think abt it at all 💔 this would be written in less harsh terms if i wasnt sleepy

loghain is. well that’s a kettle of fish. minerva spares him because it happens to be a preferable move for her agenda and her way of thinking, it’s not rlly about him as a person at all. she doesn’t absolve him of anything he did, like, she still thinks he’s a bastard it’s just that she doesn’t really believe at all in the concept of justice being done if it doesn’t serve a purpose. when he’s in the party they do build up respect and a weird kind of friendship. he sucks and she’s bitter about what sparing him cost her, but that isn’t relevant, it’s not going to stop her learning from him, or fighting at his side as the best team she can quickly make them, or simply finding him entertaining to talk to. so by the end it’s as a friend that she asks him to do the dark ritual, whatever that means. post dao she agrees with weisshaupt that him being assigned outside of ferelden is wise but they continue to write to each other extremely regularly, mostly on matters of news and strategy but occasionally on the more personal

is that everyone i think thats everyone

[fae-morrigan]

Someone put a post (where they admit they straight up dont know these characters lol, and also spell damian as 'damien' so like. yknow.) in the tags saying that if you're a fan of Jon & Jay, you shouldn't buy super son. Well, as the crowned CEO of Jay & Jon, I'm here to tell you guys that you absolutely should.

Super Son did the amazing thing of hitting several marks that I predicted while still managing to surprise me in how they hit them. Which is high praise for any story: A great narrative should be able to both meet reasonable audience expectations (i.e, staying in character, setup payoff) WHILE STILL throwing in curveballs that tell you something new.

There's a lot I want to analyze and get into, namely how I think the rooftop conversation between Jon & Nia is really brilliantly done in what it says about both characters, but mainly I've been thinking a lot about how great those last few pages were and how I think Sina absolutely nails how Jon & Jay's specific issues interact with each other.

Jay's always been a blunt person. From their first meeting back in SOKE 2, hes said what he thinks, and rarely does he try and soften himself. More than that, his bluntness is often a shield from vulnerability, which Jay struggles with the whole scene. It makes total sense, after what hes experienced (re-traumatization at the hands of a friend) that he's displaying that trait again.

Jon, however, is immediately vulnerable. This is the most poignant confession of the issue: Not even in the amazing sequence of Nia helping him make a place in the darkness (look, its back, thanks isabel!) do we get this admission of fear.

And Jay, like always, embraces him. Sidenote, LOVE how they got in the thing Jon does where he's constantly tucking his face in people's shoulders during hugs.

But the moment ends, and we get here. First of all, cold af. I could feel the aura before I turned the page.

Second of all: Jay is totally valid in feeling this way. And it makes perfect sense that he would.

Sara was his everything. Getting her back was one of his main motivations in SOKE. Because of Nia's actions, she died horribly (do you know what happens to a person when they fall from that sort of height? I do. Its AWFUL.) for an unjust cause. Of course he's glad she can't hurt anyone else!

And that's when we get to my FAVORITE PART! Oh how I love this bit. Because like. You understand why Jon's angry- Its a harsh thing for Jay to say! Nia was the one who kept him sane while he was trapped in his own mind! But Jay, like always, is RIGHT: Jon DOESN'T get it. How could he?

Jon Kent will NEVER, ever, be put in this position. Out of universe, his parents are Clark Kent and Lois Lane. They'll ALWAYS come back. Hell, the fact they'll always come back is something Ma LITERALLY says to Jon in SOKE. He will never, ever have to know this pain.

In universe, Jon's a white american. Despite being queer, despite being an alien, he'll never know what its like to be this kind of collateral, delegated as pawns in a greater war for 'freedom'. That is what killed Sara at the end of the day: imperialism.

This next bit hurts my heart. Great job, guys!

For one: Jon claims he's not excusing the mistakes Nia made, but by downplaying it like this... yes he is. But did you catch that part? Right at the start of that bubble?

"I'm going to fight every day to make up for my own part in this."

That's where it clicked for me. Something I had been hoping for since Nicole first called them twin flames.

He's projecting.

Of COURSE he's defending Nia. Of COURSE he wants Jay to forgive her. It isn't just about the fact that she gave him support, it isn't just the dreams, its the fact that... well. If Jay can't forgive her... how could he EVER forgive HIM?

THIS is where the fact that Jon and Nia are so similar as character SINGS. They become mirrors to each other, evaluating their own self worth through the other, at the unintentional expense of the people they've hurt.

Jay's right, though. Again. Its almost like he's the embodiment of the truth or something. He doesn't HAVE to do anything.

When he starts crying though, I immediately was RUINED. This is the first time we have EVER seen him cry before during his entire existence of a character. And its not really even because his mom is dead (though yes, that) and its not even because of the argument. Its because Jay fundamentally wants to be understood, and he's not getting that.

Which is important for the next bit:

I want to first backtrack a bit to Son of Kal El again, specifically, issue fourteen, right here.

Hello, two-panel sequence that succinctly describes these two as characters. How convenient you are for me, a guy analyzing a work that isn't written prose.

Jon isn't good at letting go, for better or for worse. The things he cares about stay with him, and when something or someone tries to exit his life, he clings to them with all his might.

Jay however, both selflessly and selfishly, is willing to let go first if he thinks its better for the other person. To me this line so effortlessly summarizes who Jay is- he's a person who's accustomed to not having things, and will leave before it hurts and he gets too attached.

And that thought is ALL over this scene. Jay, who begins to let go, Jon, who both literally and physically CLINGS to jay, practically begging him to stay.

(Sidenote. This is like, the third time Jay mentions breaking up when Jon starts acting up. Good for you king, keep that white boy on his toes, let him know he ain't all that.)

Every little detail of this four panel sequence is killing me. "My worst nightmare is not having a home with you in it." His greatest desire. The thing that kept tipping him off in every fake reality Nia constructed for him- Jay's absence. Him wiping the tear of Jay's cheek. Jay walking away from him.

But what really gets me is how on this page, Jon talks about them as 'we', while Jay is firmly stuck in 'I.'

This is what made me LOSE MY MARBLES at three in the morning. Just utterly fucking off my rocker in a straightjacket talking to myself.

Because this is what JON wants. But is it what JAY wants?

Jon never asks.

What about what Jay fears? What about the life that HE wants? What if he doesn't want San Francisco? What if the life he wants is the life he HAD before everything went wrong? Jon outright says he wants a fresh start. But Jay, Jay's someone with such deep connections to what he just lost, what he likely WANTS to get back. His country. His mother. His sense of self. But. He says yes.

(Sidenote. FIRST I LOVE YOU WOOOOOOOOOO) To quote my buddy Dami: Oh, the drama of needing a future with someone who can't get over the past.

It is left unclear, by the end, whether or not Jay is saying yes to this because he genuinely wants to, or if he's only saying yes because he doesn't want to lose Jon, too. Jon doesn't stop to question whether or not Jay's only reaching after him because Jon's walking away. We, the audience, are left to ponder that for ourselves.

How much of Jay saying yes is him just accepting that this is the best he's going to get? That he's never going to be understood because nobody wants to understand?

He's an afterthought to Nia, an obstacle at best, and to Jon he's a particularly handsome prop in this little fantasy he has of running away and starting new. He's either not thought of at all, or when he is thought about, it's in the context of how he can emotionally fulfill the other person And you get why Jon did this. He's desperate, he's hurting, he just got tangible evidence that the time he has with the people he loves isn't ever guaranteed. He's been needing space from Clark and Lois for MONTHS because god knows they haven't been fulfilling his emotional needs. In a very real sense, Jay is who he has.

But wanting someone to stay with you so much that you'll... Not even ignore, but just not ever consider what they may want. The intentional isolation, moving halfway across the country away from all support systems. The need to cling to someone.

It reminds me of... something. Someone.

Don't tell Jon I made this comparison. He'll kill himself. Jon and Ultraman ARE similar. They're both such deeply lonely people who cling very tightly and even though it manifests in different ways and even though they have different core thoughts about it. The effect at the end of the day is the same, isn't it?

Is loving Jay not a brutal act of destruction?

There's so many more details about this story I love. Jon & Nia's conversation being vague enough that you have no idea how Jon meant what he told her but you KNOW how NIA took it (girl you can do better hes literally ugly!). Jon breaking a pillar by bonking his head against it (LMFAO). The pretty lies vs ugly truth dichotomy of Jay vs Nia here.

But this one scene, man. This one fucking scene takes the cake. STELLAR work all around. Every panel counts.

This better lead into a full Superman & Gossamer run or SOMETHING or I'm going to have WORDS with DC's editorial staff.

[jamiefartt]

run the world; part two.

masterlist, part 1.

pairings: Jamie Tartt x reader, a bit of Sam Obisanya x reader.

summary: as the striker for AFC Richmond's very first women's team, the pressure is on. you're desperate to bond with the men's team, especially their number 9. so when your captains make you two train together, you find special ways to make it fun for both of you.

words: 10.5k

warnings: nausea mentioned, no smut but sexual references, a looootta dialogue (sorry but I love it), mean Jamie and also mean reader oooh

———

the feeling of Jamie's fingers planted firmly between yours makes your skin red hot, and your arms suddenly stop shaking on your last push-up. with your ears ringing, you know your face is bright red as you forget to breathe for the last strain. Roy counts the last number, and Jamie's hand immediately pulls away from yours as he sits back on his knees. you fold through your elbows, collapsing flat onto the ground, your flushed chest cooling against the cold grass. fighting the urge to glance over at Jamie, you screw your eyes shut, taking deep breaths as you recover from the strenuous push-ups. twenty push-ups is easy, but with the slow speed Roy was counting at, you feel as if you did double that amount. your right hand clenches into a fist, the lingering feeling of Jamie's fingers touching yours making your nerve endings feel like static. why did he do that? it must have been on purpose, him having to outstretch his arm uncomfortably in order to reach you. but why?

"well done. take a quick water break," Roy says as he walks away from the two of you. you don't hear Jamie move to get up, but you can't keep your eyes closed forever, so you push yourself up and onto your knees. his legs are sprawled out in front of you, mud and grass coating his metal studs, and his arms hold his torso up as they're outstretched behind him. trying to avoid his gaze, you keep your eyes down as you reach up to tighten your ponytail. still, you can feel his eyes burning into your skin, and you know he's going to say something.

"ooh, y/n," Jamie starts.

"knew it," you mutter to yourself, squeezing one eye shut as you look up at him.

"I think you've had a bit of an accident." Jamie hisses through his teeth as he points at his own cheek. you quickly reach a hand to your face, wiping your cheek before looking at your fingers. you roll your eyes at him and grunt when you notice it's just some dirt, the irrational thought of it being dog shit leaving your mind just as quickly as it came. "you're the worst," you groan, standing up before jogging towards the dugout, heading straight for the walkway into the training centre. pushing open the door to the women's bathroom, you sigh deeply, wondering what the fuck just happened between you and Jamie. running the tap until the water heats up, you pull a paper towel from its dispenser before soaking it. as you bring it up to your cheek to wipe off the mud, you stare at the hand Jamie touched. it felt like electricity, like pins and needles, and like hot fire running through your veins all at the same time. maybe it was because you had been holding your weight for way too long, or maybe it was simply touch deprivation.

"y/n!" Gia bursts into the bathroom, making you jump and drop the wet paper in the sink with a slapping sound.

"fucking hell, Gia!" you shout at her, placing your hands on each side of the porcelain sink to stabilise yourself.

"how's it going?" she drags out her words, turning to the mirror to redo her hair. she smiles at you and raises her eyebrows suggestively, but when she sees your defeated expression, her face drops and concern clouds her eyes. she nudges you with her knee, her hands occupied as she twists her long hair into a bun, "what's up? did he say something?"

once again, you sigh deeply, too shy to look her in the eye as you think about how to word your thoughts; "no, no, nothing too crazy. he did talk about tying his dick to my tits, though. I have no idea what that was about-"

"oh," Gia laughs, "that was something Roy made them do in training one time! they, like, tied a red string to their dick and then connected it with another guy's dick and tried to play football. it was... kinda hot."

"okay, anyways," you grimace at the thought, disgusted with your best friend, and shake the image out of your head. you continue: "we were doing shooting drills and we made it a bit of a competition and it was actually quite fun, you know?"

"yes! holy shit! I did it! I need to tell Isaac," Gia yells, turning to leave the bathroom. you reach a hand out, grabbing hers to pull her back to face you. "Gia!" you yell, snapping her out of her blind excitement. "oh, right, sorry. continue," she clears her throat and sniffs, trying her best to act casual.

"it was a lot of fun until- basically, if we missed goal post we had to do push-ups together, right? so, Jamie missed and was such a fucking baby about it, and we were facing each other while we did them..."

"go on," Gia's eyes are wide, a smile growing on her lips as she stares at you.

"Jamie caught me checking out his arms- which you can't blame me for!" you say quickly, knowing Gia was about to interrupt you again, "and then when we were doing the last push-up he put his fingers between mine like this, see?" you demonstrate by interlocking your fingers, turning them to get the perspective right. "or, like, here," you pick up her hand, moving your fingers between hers to show her properly. Gia is completely silent, and you wonder if she just hasn't understood your explanation, but when your eyes flick up to hers, her face is frozen in shock. you roll your eyes and drop her hand, clapping in front of her face. her jaw is slack, and she doesn't blink at all until you poke her chest, dragging her back to earth.

"Gia, chill, it might have been an accident." you say, grabbing a new paper towel to dry the remaining water droplets off your cheek.

"an accident? are you fucking serious?"

"he was probably just trying to throw me off or something..." you reason, walking backwards to throw the tissues into the bin.

"y/n... really? he wanted contact with you- physical contact, and that isn't an easy mistake. this is great!"

"no! nothing about this is great! he's a dick, he was definitely just fucking with me. he saw me staring at his muscles, so what? Jamie's got such an ego, I bet he loved the attention."

"yeah he did..." Gia drawls, putting her hands on your shoulders and shaking you side to side. she cackles in your face, and the contagious sound forces a smile through your grumpy exterior. "there you go!" she chirps, "and even if he is just messing with you, just do it back! he's Jamie Tartt, it's okay to think he's fit-"

"I don't-" you protest, but Gia interrupts you again; "shut up. he could get any girl he wants, but I guarantee we can get him to chase you."

you scoff and huff a laugh at her words; "why would I want that?"

"because it's fun."

back on the pitch, you push away your nerves as you head back to Jamie and Roy. you continue your drills, taking shots from different angles to the goal, and you even kick it against Jamie on purpose during one of your turns. this time, when Roy makes you do push ups, you stay a safe distance away from him, keeping to yourself. if this was any other day, you'd find the repetitive drills boring, but you can't deny you're having a lot of fun with Jamie. of course, your constant competition is the main source of that fun, and with every mean or teasing jab you throw at each other, you find yourself enjoying the outlet. football always riles you up, anger and frustration taking over when you miss a goal or pass, but oddly enough, having someone to be unapologetically mean to helps. every time one of you hit the post, you call each other a rude name, or insult each other's skills, and you always count yourself successful when your words bring a small smile to Roy's face.

a whistle blows at the other side of the pitch, pulling you and Jamie out of a childish argument about how to best tie the laces of your boots. you pause mid-sentence, a finger still poking his chest from your back-and-forth bickering. he chuckles, bringing his hand up and wrapping it around yours before pushing it down; "that means I win." you glance down at your hands, his fingers still lightly holding on to you, before looking back up at his face. clenching your jaw, you huff a breath through your nose and pull your hand from his; "this isn't over, Tartt."

jogging away from him, you meet the rest of the team at the side of the field, everyone grouped together to listen to Isaac and Gia again. you find Sam, standing next to him; "hey Sam," you sigh, grateful to have a break from Jamie for some positive energy from Sam.

"hi, y/n, how was that?" he asks you, eyebrows arched as he awaits your answer.

"oh, you know... fucking awful." Sam laughs at your words, and you smile up at him as you shake your head.

"don't pretend it was all bad, y/n. you enjoyed checking me out didn't you?" Jamie's voice appears behind you, and you suck in your lips and close your eyes at the sound. dropping your head forward in defeat, you're scared to open your eyes and see Sam's face, so you whip around to look at Jamie instead. clearly, he caught up with you, and clearly, he has no desire to leave you alone before the next activity.

you cock your head to the side, squinting at Jamie with a challenging look in your eyes; "you wish I was checking you out, Jamie."

he pouts and throws his eyes to the sky, pretending to be deep in thought for a few seconds. he hums to himself as he crosses his arms; "I don't know..." you hold your breath as you await his next words, "you seemed to be doing it at Sam's restaurant too, and uhm, when else did- oh yeah, earlier before we even started training! you're a thirsty one,"

your hand comes up to your hair as you nervously fix your already-perfect ponytail, thinking of what to say to that. he isn't lying, but you also didn't think he'd noticed your particular admiration with his biceps. "yeah, yeah, as if," you mutter, hoping your tone seemed stern enough to get Jamie off your back. you turn back to Sam, looking up at him with a grimace, widening your eyes and shaking your head at him; "what an ego, right?" Sam squints at you skeptically, pouting his lips and nodding along, but you can easily tell he believes Jamie more than you.

"whistle!" Roy's loud voice interrupts your awkward silence, and you face forward and blow out a breath. the thick air is heavy between the three of you, and you can feel both of your shoulders brushing their arms ever so slightly, finally noticing just how close they are to you. you make no effort to move away, however, enjoying the warmth their presence gives you as the cold breeze hits your bare legs. cheeks flushing, you're kind of enjoying the buzz standing between them gives you; is this the chase that Gia was talking about? maybe this is the excitement you initially missed with Sam?

"we're about to play a full 90 minute game as if it was the real thing. we have a starting lineup, and a big list of subs, so-" Gia shouts.

"boys, I don't wanna see any fucking injuries before this weekend, so don't be big men about it and just sit out when you need, understood?" the guys all hum in agreement, some of them saying a simple "yes captain."

"if I call your name, that means you're starting eleven for the bibs, so just stand to the side a bit," Gia continues, motioning a hand to the left of the crowd, "then, I'm gonna call out the subs. whoever's left will be the starters for shirts. everyone got that?" you nod at her words, and the others do the same amongst a chorus of yesses. once she's finished calling out the list, you're in the starting lineup for shirts, Sam beside you. the team is made up of a mix of the two teams, and the smirk on your face as you watch Jamie slip on a bib is priceless. Gia and Isaac know what they're doing, and you can't say you're complaining.

"dream team?" Sam leans down beside you, whispering in your ear. you turn to face him, sending him a quick wink; "you know it."

you all get into position, you and Jamie standing face-to-face in the middle of the pitch. Roy stands beside you two, holding the football under his arm. no captains have been assigned, so it's up to you and Jamie to flip the coin. you stare into his dark eyes, his pupils blown wide, reminding you of the way he looked at you as you were doing push-ups. lips parting slightly, your heart rate speeds up as you struggle keeping your eyes on his; his gaze is intense, completely unwavering as he looks at you. his smirk is subtle, but present, and you let your eyes flick to his lips for a split second. of course, Jamie notices the slight movement, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly.

"heads." you say abruptly, pulling yourself from your staring competition with him. he sucks in a breath as he finally tears his eyes off yours to look at Roy, realising there's no opportunity for him to tease you any further. Jamie watches the coin as Roy tosses it in the air, but your eyes stay on his face, taking your chance to stare at him without being called out for it. dragging your eyes over his sharp features, you admire how smooth his skin is, wondering why such an idiot deserves such good genetics. just as Roy shouts "tails!" your eyes land on Jamie's lips again, and it's too late to look away as he turns to face you again. he leans forward, bringing his face close to yours; "you can kiss 'em if you let me win."

his teasing words make your nostrils flare in frustration as you bring a hand up, pushing it to the middle of his chest. the slight blow makes him take a step backwards, and he laughs out loud at your strop as you move out of the way for him to kick off the match. jaw clenched, you keep your eyes on the ball as he places it down. his feet drag backwards in the grass three times before tucking his loose shorts into his skin-tight undershorts. your eyes linger on his thighs, the deep lines highlighting his muscles. with your eyes glued on his legs, you watch as he runs and shoots the ball to his defenders. you hang back as Jamie's team charges forward, watching as he sprints towards your goal. it all goes so quickly, he catches up with the ball, intercepting a pass between your team and pelting it into the goal all within the first five minutes of the game. "offside!" you shout, but the ref, who's really one of your coaches, counts it as a goal.

and so begins the game, with an instant goal by Jamie. he couldn't be cockier about it, running across the pitch with his arms outstretched, Dani jumping on his back to celebrate. clearly your irritation is obvious, Sam jogging over to you and placing a hand on your arm to keep you close as he whispers in your ear. your eyes find Jamie's across the pitch as he stares at the two of you, no longer celebrating with his team. his mouth is turned down in a grimace, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully. Sam explains a tactic to you, making sure you understand which play you're going to do. apparently, it's one the men do all the time, and that's exactly why they won't be expecting you to do it.

with the ball back in play, your team immediately snatches it from the bibs. making its way down the pitch, everyone is quick on their feet, and you run aimless circles trying to get in the way of the others. the ball is passed to Sam, and as he runs towards you, you start asking for the ball; "yeah, Sam, here! pass it!" defenders are on you instantly, all crowding around you as you run towards the goal. instead of passing it to you, however, Sam makes a sudden shoot for the goal, aiming for the corner of the net. his kick is sharp and fast, the ball flying through the air at a rapid pace before crashing straight into the goal. he sprints towards you with his arms open, and you run straight into them to hug him. your team runs up behind you, all crowding around you and jumping up and down as you all celebrate.

"our false nine!" Ted screams across the pitch, "yes, y/n! that's exactly how you do it!" he runs over to you and Sam, giving you both a fist bump. "hey, Jamie, take notes buddy." he says with a delighted smile before strolling back to the side of the pitch, hands deep in the pockets of his khakis. you widen your eyes at Jamie, holding your fingers in an L-shape and bringing it to your forehead, sticking out your tongue again for added effect. it seems he took it to heart, immediately huddling his team together to discuss plays. you and Sam do the same, but decide with your team to just have fun with it and play as well as you can.

with five minutes left before half-time, you're nearly ready to sub someone else in for your position, the exhaustion and cold suddenly hitting you deep in your bones. the game is red hot, everyone running on pure adrenaline. right before making your second goal of the game, you lose the ball to the opposition, but decide to use your last bit of energy to burst to the middle of the pitch, desperate to get that ball back. they pass it to Jamie, and you narrow your eyes as you chase him. technically, it's up to the others to get the ball off him, but as you watch the ball rolling at his feet, your rivalry trumps the way of the game. sprinting as hard as you possible can, the cold air pulls tears from your eyes as the wind hits you, and you can see your teammates following you in your peripheral; perfect. you push through three powerful strides until you're right on Jamie's heels. using all your force, you slide a foot in front of him, aiming more for his feet than the ball. you trip him up perfectly, and he comes crashing down as the ball rolls ahead of him. whilst you fall to the ground, you see one of your teammates get possession of the ball, immediately passing it back down the pitch.

after landing on the ground on your side, you push yourself up, leaning on your arm to see Jamie lying flat on his back in front of you. his legs are sprawled in front of him, hands coming up to his face and rubbing it in frustration. as he sits up, he smacks the ground, grunting loudly. you throw your head back and cackle as pure adrenaline flows through your veins. whilst catching your breath from your crazy sprint, you force yourself onto your feet, and you stumble over to Jamie with a tired huff, looking down at him with a smug smile. reaching a hand out for him to take, you hear loud cheers and screams erupt behind you, but you don't need to check to know your team scored.

"I win?" you ask Jamie, who squints up at you with one eye shut. he's taking his time to stare at you, so you raise your eyebrows at him in question, and with a deep sigh, he finally lifts up his hand, grabbing yours. you pull him up to his feet, smile smug.

"you win," he sighs, dropping your hand and brushing the grass off his clothes. his face is stone cold, eyes avoiding yours. you move your head to try to catch his gaze, but he quickly turns away from you, walking off the pitch. his shoulders are hunched with his head down, keeping his eyes on the ground as he walks.

"wait, sorry, what was that? I don't think I heard you right," you attempt to tease him, jogging behind him. he ignores you, so you reach a hand up to his shoulder trying to get his attention. Jamie turns to you abruptly, shrugging your hand from his shoulder before catching it with his hand before pulling you into his chest. your smile drops in surprise as a smirk appears on his face again, and your breath hitches in your throat as you crash against him. your legs are too tired to hold you up, so he quickly wraps a hand around your waist, holding you close to him. completely taken aback, you don't have it in you to push him away, instead looking up at him with wide, stunned eyes.

Jamie leans down, placing his mouth right beside your ear. his breath fanning your skin makes goosebumps appear, and you struggle to keep breathing at the feeling. "you win, y/n." his voice is sultry and low, and your hand being held against his chest lets you feel the vibrations rumble through him. your knees threaten to buckle, but you dig your studs into the grass beneath you as he lets go of your waist. you're speechless and breathless at the same time, and the feeling of his arm around you leaves your skin tingling. his hand lingers on the hand he's holding for just a beat too long, and you quickly pull it away from him, reaching your hands up to run them over your hair awkwardly. "okay. thank you, Jamie," you sputter before turning on your heel and walking off the pitch, hearing your blood pumping through your veins as your legs carry you straight towards Roy.

"just sub someone in for me, I need to- uhm... take a shit?" you say unconvincingly, and Roy bites back a smile as he stares down at you. you stick to your guns, popping your hip with a hand on your side as you keep your eyes on his.

"and this shit... is it going to take you until the end of the second half?" he asks you, voice pitching as he holds back his laughter.

"yes, coach." your statement is simple, and you hold your mouth in a straight line as you await his response.

"alright, you're off the hook. have a good shit." he gives you a curt nod.

"thank you, coach." you nod back before letting your legs carry you inside and straight for the stairs. taking two stairs at once, you fly up them, running for the door to your changing room.

stumbling towards the bench in front of your name and number, you drop down onto it, knees wobbling under your weight. you release the longest breath you can, placing both hands on the edge of the bench beneath you in a poor attempt to ground yourself. your skin feels like it's on fire, and the sudden warmth after being outside for so long makes you start to overheat. you stand up, completely overwhelmed by the adrenaline, pulling your long sleeved top off as fast as you can. you push both of your socks down, trying to cool your skin as much as possible. your hands fan your face as you huff deep breaths in and out. pacing up and down the room, your mind races with everything Jamie Tartt; the way his hand gripped yours, and the way he held you up with just one arm around your waist, how dark his eyes looked when he caught you checking him out, and especially the way he looked so up close. his tanned skin looked smooth and soft, and the image of his strong fingers between yours makes your vision blur. you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly lowering yourself back to your seat as you picture his face close to yours. you feel your mind beginning to drift even further, but you don't let it, sitting yourself down again and looking up at the ceiling.

"he's a prick, he's a prick, he's a prick," you repeat quietly over and over, pulling yourself away from the hot spiral your mind is approaching.

"y/n?!" you jump at the sound of Gia's loud voice interrupting your mantra, "Roy said you were shitting..."

"oh my god-" embarrassment hits you like a truck, hands flying up to cover your face.

"fucking hell, y/n. you're, like, bright red and topless... are you okay?"

"yeah, I mean, I don't know if it's the adrenaline or what, but, I don't think I can do any more today," your defeat clear in your weak voice, you drop your hands to your lap and look down at your fingers, pins and needles running through them as you recover from being in the cold.

"ew, okay, go home for today. I'll see you later, just get some rest, yeah?" you nod quickly, suddenly feeling a confusing nausea kicking in at the sheer memory of how Jamie's hard chest felt against your hand. as you shake the thought from your head, you feel the need to tell Gia: "I wasn't actually shitting, just so you know."

"jesus, y/n," she shakes her head at you, walking towards where you're sitting. she squats down in front of you, placing two hands on your knees and looking at you with caring eyes. "go home and take a nice cool bath, yeah? relax and calm down... and I just wanna say," her face goes from sweet to serious as she looks directly in your eyes, "the way you played today made me realise what an honour it is to be your captain. I haven't seen you like that since we were teenagers, y/n. each kick against that ball carried so much talent, and passion, and you were just having so much fun."

you give her a weak, lopsided smile, rolling your eyes slightly. she squeezes your knees before looking down and untying your boots for you; "Gia, you don't have to-"

"anything for my striker," she whispers to you with a wink, "I will literally do anything to keep you enjoying football the way you did today."

"I won't lie to you," you start, "training with Jamie definitely helped," you aren't proud to admit it, and you aren't trying to give him kudos for anything, but your constant quarreling added a new fuel to your old fire. even in simple drills, your motivation to win was doubled, and the satisfaction you felt whenever you beat Jamie was almost greater than winning a match -- but you would never admit all that to anybody.

"I can tell," Gia says, raising her eyebrows at you before pushing herself back, "now, get yourself an uber home. I'll see you later."

you do exactly that, getting straight into an uber without even changing out of your training kit. when you get home, you struggle up the stairs, your legs trying their hardest to keep you up. you start running your bath and pull off your muddy clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom tiles. as you light your favourite candle, you stare into the flame. the adrenaline from training has worn off, but despite the exhaustion settling deep in your bones, you can still remember exactly how all of your heightened senses felt. during drills with Roy, every time your kick hit a goal post, your heart soared. even though you used to play that game with Gia all the time when you were in school, something about the way you held your breath as the ball floated through the air made it all the more rewarding. the suspense and the competition made your blood pump faster, Jamie being a key component to that feeling. you even found yourself clapping for him when he made an impressive kick, and he did the same for you. you don't take each other seriously, and maybe that's the secret to keeping football so fun.

after your bath, your body is entirely relaxed, the weightless feeling of the water bringing a sweet relief to your tired legs. wrapped in your towel, you head down the hallway towards you room. as you pass the stairwell you call a loud "hello?" down to the rest of the house, but there's no answer. with a satisfied smile, you continue into your room, dropping your towel. after grabbing your pyjama bottoms, you throw on a tank top before standing in front of your mirror. you take your time with your skincare as your hair dries, giving yourself some much-needed tlc. whilst staring at your reflection, you can't wipe the smile from your face; all the excitement and energy from today has transformed into pure contentment.

in your slippers, you skip down the stairs, heading straight to the kitchen. thank god for your lazy sunday takeouts, because all it takes is heating up some leftovers for you to have dinner set for the evening. you get comfortable on your small sofa, plate in hand, as you turn the tv on to an old episode of your favourite comfort show. kicking your feet up, you stretch your legs over the other couch cushion, feeling an ache in your muscles similar to those after you've just played a real match. the food warms your bones, and your laughter floods the room even though you could recite this episode from memory if asked to.

walking across the room to the kitchen, you drop your plate in the sink before opening the fridge, bending down as you study what you and Gia have in there. grabbing a cold juice pouch, you laugh at another joke on the television, piercing the straw through the plastic as you head back to the comfy couch. dropping yourself on it, you sigh to yourself, staring at the tv screen as your mind drifts again. a blush creeps up your face as slight embarrassment takes over your thoughts, remembering how Roy saw you checking Jamie out at training. Jamie noticing you doing it was bad, but it's somehow even worse that third person was just watching it all from above. the genuine smile you saw on Jamie's face was something you didn't think you'd ever get to witness with your own two eyes. when it was just you two mucking about during your practice drills, there were a few moments when his smile wasn't cocky, or at your expense, but he would just look genuinely proud of himself.

car headlights shine through the front window of the house, and you pause your show, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch. you crook your neck back and to the side, trying to see Gia walking in the door behind you. you hear chatter as she approaches, assuming Isaac is with her, and when she unlocks the door, you were right. behind her is Isaac, and you begin to smile until you see who they've brought home with them.

"what the fuck?" you sputter, quickly sitting up straight and running your hands over your tied-up hair. Jamie saunters in behind Isaac, ignoring you as he slips his shoes off at the door.

"how are you feeling now?" Gia asks sweetly, ignoring your shocked expression at the sight of Jamie Tartt standing in your living room. she drops herself into one of the bean bags across the couch, Isaac sitting one the one next to her.

"I was feeling great until now!" you exclaim, holding a hand out towards Jamie as you look between Gia and Isaac angrily. he's standing at the door with his arms crossed over chest, clearly unsure of what to do.

"Jamie, please come sit down," Gia beckons towards the sofa with a friendly smile, direclty contrasting your not-so-welcoming face.

"uh, where?" he asks, an unfamiliar shyness to his voice.

Gia raises her eyebrows at you, nodding her head towards your spread out legs. you huff and roll your eyes as you fold your legs beneath yourself, sitting criss-cross on the left side of the sofa. without saying anything, Jamie sheepishly walks over to you before sitting on the other cushion. suddenly, you regret ever buying the cozy two-seater, feeling Jamie's broad shoulders brush against yours as you both keep your arms crossed.

"so, we have gathered you here today to witness the joining of two lives," Isaac says with a serious voice, brow low as usual.

"Roy spoke to us after training today, basically proposing a bit of an idea for the two of you." Gia follows, and your eyes are stern as you flick them between her and Isaac. trying your best to look unfazed by Jamie's close proximity to you, the strong smell of his cologne makes that particularly difficult. it floods your senses, salty and fresh. it's the opposite of what you'd imagined, but it still suits him. you steal a glance at his man-spreaded legs, his black denim jeans tight around his thighs. you're not a big fan of his skinny jean look, but you really don't mind the way they hug his muscular legs.

Isaac continues; "Roy said that he thinks you two had a lot of fun training together today, and loved watching the flirty little rivalry you've got going on."

"woah!" you shout, holding your hands up in surrender, "we were not flirting."

"yeah, she was checking me out, not the other way around!" Jamie shakes his head and grimaces, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

"I wasn't checking you out," you groan, looking over at him, "you're the one who offered to kiss me!"

he scoffs at you, sitting up straight as he says: "that is not what happened." with raised eyebrows, he looks at Isaac and Gia, now pointing at them too.

"okay, whatever, I don't care who wants to kiss who," Gia interrupts your protests, "we all think that you two should train and practice together outside of regular training. so, instead of going to the gym after trainings, you continue doing drills and stuff together."

the silence which falls over the room is deafening, you and Jamie matching in expressions as you stare at your captains with your jaws slack.

"train... with him?" you say, utterly confused by the suggestion.

"instead of the gym? what about my gains? Isaac, come on, you can't be serious," Jamie holds his hands out, acting completely helpless.

"sorry bruv, you can still get your reps in whenever you want, but we think you guys can really help each other get motivated and stuff." Isaac tries to smile at the two of you, bearing his teeth in a wide grin. but when he's met with your bored faces, he soon drops the expression.

"the next few games we have are... important, of course, but the stakes aren't too high. after last week's win the women have nothing to worry about, and I mean, the guys seem to be doing just fine, so," Gia rambles, using her hands to emphasise her point. she sighs, dropping her hands in her lap as she slumps her shoulders; "y/n, I haven't seen you play the way you did today in years, and you said it yourself Jamie-"

"stop!" you yelp, interrupting her mid-sentence holding your hands up in front of you as if physically stopping her. while you bite your lip, considering their proposal, you turn your head to look at Jamie and to your surprise, his eyes are already on you. he blinks quickly, looking down at the ground and reaching a hand up to rub his chin. you scan his face, letting your eyes run down his torso before landing on the same place on the ground he seems to be staring at. fingers pulling nervously at the straps of your tank top, you chew on the inside of your cheeks. as you try to picture having to spend any more time alone with Jamie, you start shaking your head side-to-side. your eyes flick back up to Gia, a deep frown now appearing on your face; "no."

in your peripheral, you see Jamie's head snap to the side, eyes boring into the side of your face, but you can't make out his expression. Gia looks at you with a fed-up look in her eyes, and Isaac stays silent. you stare at your captain, emotionless, waiting for her to let you off the hook and send Jamie home. instead, he's the first one to say something, huffing at your words.

"pfft, why not?"

"why not? Jamie, you don't want to do this either," you spit out quickly, finally turning to look at him. your eyes meet, and you immediately notice how alert his eyes are, pupils blown wide.

"yeah, I mean, true... I just don't get why anyone wouldn't wanna spend time with me." he scoffs.

"jesus christ, Jamie," you roll your eyes at him, leaning back against the sofa and crossing your arms again. Isaac and Gia mirror you, both rolling their eyes at Jamie's narcissistic comment.

"listen, if I were getting paid to play football with a woman that would be a whole different story, but I'm not, so." with a shrug, he draws his mouth into a straight line.

"Jamie, your whole job is playing for Richmond," Isaac starts, "you get paid to train... what's the difference if you're training on your own or with y/n?" Isaac takes his explanation slow, squinting at Jamie as he does so.

"it's different 'cus..." Jamie replies, confident at first before his voice falters, his eyes darting around the room thinking of a valid reason. you stare at him expectantly, genuinely curious about what he'll come up with next, but he trails off, staying silent.

"oh! let me guess Jamie, it's because you're not into all that feminist shit, is that it? or is it because I won today? because I beat you, and you're too fucking insecure and egotistical to admit that sometimes you're not the only person out on that pitch who wants to win. how embarrassing for you," you say, standing up from where you're sitting and walking over to the kitchen in a huff. you keep your back turned to everyone as you stand at the sink, turning on the tap and running the water over your hands just so it looks like you're there with a purpose. the air is heavy as long seconds pass, and you're not sure exactly how long the room stays silent for.

"right," Jamie eventually sighs, slapping his hands on his thighs before pushing himself up from the sofa, "I'll be off then." you turn to face the room again, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Jamie, wait," Gia tries, but he holds a hand up to her as he pouts with a shake of his head, moving towards the door and slipping his trainers on.

"I'll give you a lift," Isaac mutters, struggling his way out of the beanbag before following Jamie out of the front door, still in his slippers.

hands still gripping the counter, you stare down at your feet, only slightly embarrassed by your little jab at Jamie.

"y/n, what the fuck?" Gia snaps as soon as the door clicks shut.

okay, maybe you're more than just a bit embarrassed. you hear Isaac's car rumble to life in the driveway, and you can feel Gia's eyees burn into you. you're suddenly too shy to look up at her, feeling your cheeks turn hot.

"you literally told me you had fun with Jamie! what was that all about?" she first sounds confused before fading into a more concerned tone. the care in her voice makes you look up at her slowly. pushing yourself away from the counter, you lift a hand up to rub your tired eyes before pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I know," you sigh deeply, "I just don't want him to know that." the corner of your lips quirks up for a split, but no real smile breaks through.

Gia sighs too, moving over to the sofa and sitting down where Jamie had previously been. she stares at you, a knowing look in her eyes, before patting the space beside her. you look away from her briefly, eyes glancing at the television, which is still showing the paused image of your abandoned tv show. shuffling towards her, she opens her arms for you, and when you sit down on the couch you lean into her. letting out a deep breath, your mind flashes with thoughts of Jamie for what feels like the tenth time today; his strong fingers between yours, how big his hand felt around your waist, the goosebumps on his neck as he watched the coin flip. your eyes flutter as you imagine his lips, how soft they looked despite the cold air, and the sound of his voice close to your ear. whenever you found yourself close to him, shoulder-to-shoulder on both the pitch and the couch, he always felt so warm. he radiates heat and electricity, your blood running hot even just thinking about him. whether that's in a good way or a bad way, you're not too sure.

"you don't fancy him, do you?"

"oh my god, Gia, no!" you laugh at her question, slapping her leg playfully.

"awe," she coos, "that's a shame. because I kinda think he has a bit of a thing for you."

you shoot up, leaning as far away from her as humanly possible as if it would remove you from that thought completely. you stare at her with your eyebrows arched, a mix of shock and disgust pitting in your stomach.

"wh- oh my god, ew," you shake your head, eyes darting around the room at a rapid pace as you consider her words, blinking fast, "why would you even think that?"

"I can see the way he looks at you, y/n. anyone can see he at least wants to shag you," Gia shrugs as if what she's saying doesn't absolutely repulse you. "what?" she asks you with a chuckle when you just stare at her blankly, "I bet you calling him insecure made him violently hard, and that's why he left so fast."

an unhinged laugh bursts out of your mouth at that, a hand flying up to cover it; "violently?! jesus christ," you both laugh together, the tension in the air dissipating as you continue joking about the idea.

"I mean, Jamie is physically fit, yeah," you explain to her, "and who wouldn't wanna say they've slept with a famous footballer?"

"exactly! why do you think I'm with Isaac?" both of you chuckle before you continue, "but I just don't think us spending any more time together would do anyone any good. today was great and it was exhilarating and fun, but honestly, I think the bickering will only lead to worse."

"you really think so?" Gia's eyes turn soft as she sounds hopeful in her question, "I know he was rude to you at the restaurant, but like... just think about it, y/n, please? for me and Isaac? things have been so stagnant in our teams- good, but stagnant, and I really think it would look good for the coaches if we can get you two on board with this."

you stare into her pleading eyes, completely understanding why she's asking this from you. when you all elected Gia captain, she was the happiest you'd ever seen her. all weekend you heard her on the phone to every family member and friend she could reach, sharing her good news. at every training, she absolutely glows, and her eyes still tear up a bit when anyone casually calls her 'captain'. being able to share her passion for football through her role in the team even multiplied when her and Isaac started going out, and you really wish you still had the same spark for the sport. but spending one-on-one time with Jamie Tartt of all people? if he was literally any nicer to you, it would be an honour to train with someone you admire so much. but now that you know him just that little bit more, enduring any more frustration and anger-inducing strops from him would drain you more than the actual training.

"you never know, maybe he could surprise you," Gia suggests, almost reading your mind.

"he's nice to look at Gia, not nice to talk to." you sigh.

"I don't know about that, y/n, Isaac wouldn't be friends with him if he hadn't cleaned his act up."

"but he hasn't cleaned anything up with me. it really seems like he's just got something against me personally," you hang your head as you nervously fidget with your fingers. what Jamie said at Ola's got to you more than you'd care to admit, even to your best friend.

"give him a second chance, y/n. who knows, it might be fun?"

when you lie down in bed that night, you try to distract your mind with seemingly endless tiktoks, but your brain feels too busy to even just doom scroll. you place your phone on your bedside table, turning over and hugging the soft duvet closer to your chest. your mind races back and forth, the word 'fun' running circles through it. there's nothing fun about being disrespected by someone you once admired, but the thought of being able to shamelessly annoy that same person does sound quite enjoyable. you wouldn't mind getting the excuse to stare at his impressive build some more, that sounds quite fun, but your stomach cramps at the memory of Jamie catching you multiple times. he caught you staring at his arms, his shoulders, his lips. you feel like a mess, head dizzying at the mixed messages you're sending yourself.

after some deep breaths and counting an absurd amount of sheep, you finally manage to meet sleep, but when you wake up early the next morning, deep exhaustion hits you. after turning off your alarm as fast as you can, you yawn so wide your ears pop, groaning to yourself as you dangle your legs off the bed. the cold morning air hits your body as you further climb out of the duvet, and you groan as pain sets into your muscles. "fucking hell," you mutter to yourself, not expecting the first minutes of the day to be so strenuous already. dragging yourself from the bed, you shuffle towards your bedroom window, squinting as you pull the curtains open. the sky is overcast, but still bright, despite the autumn sun having only just risen. you lean your forehead against the window, hoping the slight condensation forces your body awake, but it isn't the glass which shocks you into being alert, it's Jamie standing outside talking to Isaac.

he's leaning against his car casually, the hood of his blue hoodie pulled over his head and tied tightly with the strings. unlike his usual obnoxious fashion sense, he's wearing dark, loose joggers and runners. you stare a little bit longer, quite enjoying the view, until you realise you have no idea why he's at your house again. reaching up, you unlatch your window, pushing it open and leaning over the windowsill. "good morning boys," you call down to them, interrupting their conversation. they both look around, looking for where your voice came from, "up here." you say flatly, waving an unenthusiastic hand.

"good morning!" Isaac chirps, genuinely in a good mood.

"nice hair!" Jamie says with a smirk on his face, and you curse to yourself as you duck out of the window quickly. you glance at the mirror next to your bed, seeing your pony tail hanging on for dear life as your hair has folded in on itself in your sleep. you tug the hair tie out of it, leaving your hair down and messy as you appear back in the window.

"what is this prick doing here?" you ask Isaac, and a sudden shiver runs over your body as the cold really starts to bite you.

"he's giving us a lift to work," Isaac replies.

"why?" you snap.

"because he's a nice person." Isaac snaps back, holding his hands out beside him.

"yeah, so hurry up, woman, don't make me late." Jamie snaps as he dismisses you with a wave of his hand. slamming the window shut, you move quickly between your room and the bathroom, getting ready as fast you possibly can. you decide to leave your hair down on your way to training, a new choice since you normally always have your hair tied up for training. dressed in simple yoga pants and a hoodie, you grab your phone and rush down stairs. your gym bag is exactly where you left it at the front door, and you don't care to check what's in it before picking it up and pulling open your front door.

Gia has now joined Isaac and Jamie at the latter's car as they all chat. it's more a heated discussion than a simple morning chat, but you choose to ignore it. Jamie faces you, still leaning against the side of his fancy car, whilst the other two stand with their backs to you. you let your eyes rake over Jamie properly this time, stunned by how good he manages to look in such a low-effort outfit. the bagginess contrasts his usual too-tight jeans and tops, and you quite enjoy knowing the muscles underneath his clothes without seeing them almost ripping their seams. when the door clicks closed behind you, Jamie's eyes flick away from your friends, landing on you. he blinks a few times, tipping his head back as he drags his eyes down your frame before coming back up to your face.

Jamie seems to be well aware you can see him staring, but he still doesn't tear his eyes away from yours. Gia and Isaac don't seem to notice him staring, continuing whatever explanation they're giving Jamie, but he's definitely not listening. time moves in slow motion as you stare at each other. his fingers come up to untie the string of his hood, and you see his jaw clench as his neck becomes visible. waiting patiently for his next move, your in a bit of a daze, never breaking eye contact with him, even when he stuffs his hands into the pocket at the front of his light blue hoodie. Jamie licks his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, and your head tilts down slightly as your eyes focus on the movement. he lifts his lips into a smirk, the change in expression making you quickly look back up at his eyes.

"nice hair," he finally speaks, his tone more genuine than mocking like it was when you were in the window. this comment pulls Isaac and Gia out of their conversation, turning to see you standing on your front step, bag over your shoulder. "oh, finally. let's go!" Gia chirps as she begins walking around the car, completely oblivious as to what she just missed between you and Jamie. Isaac follows, walking to the other side to get in the passenger seat. despite the small smile on your face, you roll your eyes, pushing at the wooden door to make sure it's locked before walking towards the car. you walk right up to Jamie, looking up at him with your head cocked to the side; "thank you, Jamie. nice hoodie."

giving you a tight-lipped smile, he mirrors your tilted head, letting his eyes flick down to your lips. quickly darting his eyes back up to yours, his pupils completely dilate, regretting his seemingly accidental glance. smiling at the reflex, you furrow your brows teasingly, waiting for him to say something, anything, a sarcastic comment or stupid joke, but you get nothing in response. instead, Jamie awkwardly looks down at his shoes, pushing himself off his car and stepping aside to pull open his door. "wait," you say, hand involuntarily reachiing out and wrapping around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. you gulp nervously, dropping his arm almost as quickly as you grabbed it, before sighing. "I just wanted to say sorry for what I said yesterday, I didn't mean it."

"oh, I'm sorry, y/n... would you mind just quickly remindin' me what exactly you said?" Jamie crosses his arms as he pushes your buttons.

"look, I'm apologising because I'm trying to be nice to you so please don't make this harder than it already is." you sigh, placing a hand on your hip and popping it.

"sorry love, I don't think I can," he leans closer to you, and the heat of your breaths so close together makes a little puff of steam in the cold air.

huffing an annoyed sigh through your nose, you suck in your cheeks before saying: "Jamie," you start, and his eyes are on yours expectantly, "I'm very sorry for calling you insecure,"

"and?" he drawls, not making any move to distance himself from you, and you almost lose your thought at the smell of his amazing cologne again.

"insecure and egotistical," you add, turning to look up at your bedroom window simply so you don't have to look at Jamie. the two of you stand in silence for a few long seconds, and your eyes finally meet his again as you wait for his response. "okay, thank you, y/n." his voice is the same low tone as it was on the pitch yesterday, when you had your hand pressed to his chest, and the sound pulls your stomach into an excited twist. he doesn't drop your eye contact, so you decide to be the one to do it, grunting at him as you pull open the car door, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. the sound of his low laugh is cut off as you drop into his low car, pulling the door closed behind you.

squished behind the driver's seat, you're face is hidden behind your gym bag. you're grateful for it, not brave enough to face either Gia nor Jamie in the rearview mirror. you settle your gaze out the window, the pout on your lips remaining there during the whole drive. you don't actually feel bad for what you said to Jamie last night, but if apologising means getting Gia off your back, then it's worth it. you want her to excel as captain, and you want to help her do that any way you can, even if that means spending more time with Jamie than you'd like to.

when the car finally pulls into AFC Richmond's car park, you're the last to get out. Gia and Isaac rushed inside to see your coaches, leaving you and Jamie behind.

"coaches duties, I guess," you mutter as you watch them race into the training center, saying it more to yourself than to Jamie. he has one hand resting on the roof of his car and the other reaching out towards you. with a grimace plastered on your face, you look up at him with an eyebrow raised, puzzled by his gesture; "what?" you snap.

"so much for feminism," Jamie groans, rolling his eyes and sighing before jutting his hand closer to you. as if he's a child trying to show you a snail on his hand, you move back, shaking your head at him with the same confusion on your face. ducking his head down with another sigh, he drops his hand for a moment, smacking it against his leg.

"your bag," he says, clearly irritated, before bringing his hand out again, "can I carry your bag for you?"

"what the fuck?" you laugh loudly, attracting the attention of other staff making their way into the building. Jamie lifts his hand to give them a curt wave, sending them an awkward smile. as you clutch your stomach with laughter, you turn away from Jamie, making your way towards the door.

"what?" he whines, following close in your step, "I'm being serious! I'm trynna be nice here."

"Jamie, since when is it feminist to assume a lady needs her bag carried?" you push through the doors, smiling to yourself, knowing this is driving him nuts.

glancing back at him, you see him walking with his shoulder slumped, a bewildered look on his face; "I'm so confused," his words are surprisingly genuine, no more bitter edge to his tone.

"Jamie," you smile at him, stopping in the middle of the hallway to face him, "I'm fucking with you. but, no, over my dead body will I ever let you touch my stuff." you continue walking, speeding up your pace as you approach the staircase which leads to the women's locker room.

"you say that, y/n, but I was literally on your couch last night so..."

with your back still turned to him, you hold your tongue, simply rolling your eyes as you choose not to bite back.

"woah, Jamie, you went home with her last night?" is the last thing you hear someone say before sprinting up the stairs, again, ignoring it. whatever Jamie replies to that question would only make you angry, so you decide to tune it out and be the bigger person.

as you make your way down another hallway where the ground is covered in fake grass, you bump into Roy. your eyes lighten up at the sight of him, raising a hand to wave at him, but when you see his smile turn smug, you drop your arm. you feel your cheeks go hot as you remember the words you two parted with yesterday, and your wide smile shrinks into a polite, tight-lipped one.

"how did your shit go?" Roy speaks when you meet each other in the middle of your path. you sigh, ignoring his question and looking at him with stern eyes; "do you think I should train with Jamie?" your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence, not because you're going to cry but because you just don't know what to do about the situation. Roy fills his cheeks with air before blowing out slowly, extremely slowly. he stares down the hallway for so long that you glance over your shoulder to make sure there's not a ghost standing there.

"Roy, I'm going to be late to training if-" you whisper, but he's quick to interrupt you.

"yes."

"yeah? really?"

"yes."

"why?" you challenge his deadpan answers, crossing your arms over your chest and furrowing your brow at him.

taking a deep breath in through his nose, you're actually quite nervous for his answer. you're well aware they haven't always been the best of friends, and Isaac's told you all about their old rivalry, but he's you also know they've managed to move on from that by now.

"because..." he starts, dragging the word out in a growl, "as much as I hate to say this, I think he needs real competition with someone in order to be good at football."

"why do I have to be that competition? can't you just use someone from his own team,"

"sadly, I can't personally fight him, and he's too much of a team player now."

"so I'm gonna be his fucking punching bag so you guys can score goals?" you suddenly start getting warm, and not in the nice way. "Gia said this would somehow help her as our captain but now you're saying I'm basically just doing Jamie a favour," you continue.

"not entirely," Roy breathes out, staring at you with the hope that you'll let it go and agree, but you put up more of a fight.

"tell me what's going on."

"fine." he grunts, "first of all, Ted's made Jamie all nice and kind by giving him a second chance, so he's not as intense on the field as he used to be. sometimes they need him to be a prick, just not to his own teammates. so, after seeing you guys rile each other up at training yesterday I thought it could be a good idea to have you bring back that fire in him."

with your mouth dropped open, you stare up at Roy while he speak completely bewildered by his explanation. you consider protesting, since this is probably the most consecutive words he's ever said to you, you let him finish.

"second, Gia thinks you might need the same kind of thing," he stutters through his statement, clearly wary of your response. but when he sees your unwavering expression, he continues; "I mean, I do see where she's coming from. she wants you to enjoy football again, and she knows you have fun with the more aggressive parts of it,"

"fun... fuck's sake," you mumble to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Roy ignores your interjection; "y/n, I think in asking you to do her a favour, Gia is also doing you one. she wants you to play the best you can, and you want her to succeed the best she can. don't even think about Tartt in all of this, he'll be just fine without or without you."

you chew the inside of your cheeks, staring up at Roy with a complete lack of emotion. your mind, however, is running on high, and you feel like an overheating motor as you think over his points. you want to ask what Jamie thinks about this whole idea, but you decide against it; this isn't for Jamie, this is for Gia. you want her to be the best captain she can be, and you want to be the best footballer you can be. you know your passion has worn off with the stress of playing for Richmond, and as much as you don't want to agree that this will help you, you know it's true. you know very well that you need this as much as Gia needs you, and you hate to think of having to leave the team just because you couldn't do your best on the pitch. the deep need for football has dissipated over the years, but your want for it has returned.

"fine."

———

yaaay part two! finally! i can't wait for the all the juicy shit coming up! i hope you enjoyed reading, i'm always open for any and all feedback -- my ask is open!

also sorry if there's typos i didn't get to properly correct the second part much love <3

[letomills]

Elaboration on my past shameful cc hair practices (I have learned the error of my ways)

Context over there. This here post is an answer to an inquiry by @sillysoraya.

This whole time since I started trying my hand at Sims 2 cc hair recoloring/retexturing, this had been my process: find recolors by a creator whose textures I want to use as a base, export said textures from their recolors via simPE, modify and/or recolor them in GIMP, then make fresh recolor files in bodyshop, reimport them immediately, close bodyshop, promptly delete everything that was generated in the Projects folder, take the new recolor files out of the SavedSims folder, and put my edited textures onto my them by building DTX in simPE.

When I say “textures”, I mean textures that look like this, you know, the ones you see in simPE with the transparent background:

[↑ that's evannamari's DBrown retexture of Newsea Miles Away]

That's how I do it for clothing, so why wouldn't it work for hair, I told myself naively in my immense hubris.

Well turns out there's a reason why the tutorials (such as this one by DeeDee) tell you to apply the textures not in simPE but in bodyshop. You’re supposed to put your textures in the Project folder - this kind of texture, that covers more than just the alpha:

[↑ the texture on the left / the alpha on the right ↑]

And only then you reimport and let bodyshop do its thing. The alpha will do its job carving out the texture properly (or whatever kind of sorcery happens in there).

Because if you give your recolors the already alpha’d out textures with the transparent background, what I believe happens is as the transparent background gets floodfilled with black during bodyshop’s file creation process, all the parts of the texture that had some wispy half-transparent hairs on them now have a layer of black underneath. Or at least what I know for sure is that those wipsy sections don't turn out looking nice but weirdly wire-y, especially on light recolors. Many hairs don’t have wispy strands and therefore are very forgiving (which is why I didn’t see a problem when I did the Rosesims hairs for example) but others have plenty of them, like the Newsea hairs. On those, it makes a clear difference. In game, it shows most as you zoom out, for instance in CAS from a face close-up view to a full-body view. It’s the same principle as this seam problem I had a while ago (and several times since), with clothing texture that was floodfilled with white too close to the borders of the texture mapping. When you zoomed out, the white would start showing.

Anyway, this is definitely stuff that creators in the community have known for 20 years and it’s 100% my fault for not following a hair tutorial and instead relying on prior knowledge of clothing-making that turned out not to be applicable 1:1.

I’m sure I still have a lot to learn on hair retexturing even after figuring this out. I was working on Newsea Yesenia when I had the realization that I was doing things wrong, but before I upload anything else, I’m gonna go back and look at all of the hairs I’ve done so far, fix them up when needed, learn more. Fortunately I think all of the Fakeblood gender conversions are fine but I’ll check and get back to you on that, there’s something I need to investigate. Edit: yes, all the gender conversions and copy-pasta of other people's unedited textures are completely fine, thank god.

Seems like as long as the texture didn't go through GIMP's import-export, it's fine, even if I didn't apply it via the Projects folder.

[ff-killjam]

How The Tables Turned [Ford x reader oneshot]

Summary: This time, its Ford making you stop what you're going to make sure you get sleep.

Rating: SFW and very fluffy

Warnings: Aside from a slightly suggestive part, none!

AO3 version

A/N: Actually based on a period of time where I tried to learn how to use unity (before the whole drama of it happened). I refused to do ANYTHING but to work on my little project no matter how much I was starving for a few weeks straight. lol.

It’s basically routine at this point for you to drag Ford out of his lab to head for bed. Even if you remind him of the benefits on sleeping and how the lack of it will impact his work, you still needed to get him into bed, sometimes having some food ready for him to make sure he didn’t sleep on an empty stomach.

That’s how its USUALLY IS.

Lately, you’ve started your own personal project involving learning a game engine to play around with. It was mostly just a random idea one day, wanting to try your hand at making your own little “video game”. Nothing too fancy, just something fun to put together and to learn some new skills along the way. There was A LOT you needed to look into and learn to make this happen, however.

From learning a coding language, the game engine itself, a mix between finding free to use assets and even making your own when nothing suited your taste- you had a lot on your plate. It wasn’t all that bad really, considering how this whole thing turned into a full blown hyper fixation fairly soon after starting it. It was easy to let the hours fly by as you were split between watching tutorial videos, drawing and fixing any errors/bugs in any of the codes you wrote down. You were aware of when you needed to sleep, eat and do other things for your health, but something about working on this project made you refuse to move from your chair. And you weren’t the only one to noticed this.

After a decent amount of time being with you, Ford has grown used to the routine of you coming to his lab to check up on him. It got to the point where he purposely stayed late in the lab to get you to come in and “pester” him to take care of himself better. The feeling of knowing you cared and loved him so much to go out of your way to make sure he knew that was something he relished in. Of course, he did felt a little “silly” and “immature” doing this instead of straight up telling you, but there was no harm being done anyways, so it was fine.

So when you stopped checking on him after a few nights, he couldn’t help but to worry a bit. At first, he figured you were just a bit busy, possibly even out for the night, so he didn’t think too much of it. However, when walking into your computer room and seeing you up staring at your screen with an open notebook with various random things written on it, he couldn’t help to smile a bit as you reminded him of his university days. You were just working on something, nothing too bad.

But as time passed by, he soon realizes he only ever sees you in your computer room. You barely went out for anything, even for food. Ford didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he was worried. Things escalated for him when he barely sees you in bed anymore.

It’s not like he didn’t talk to you as you were deep in your work. He would sometimes check in on you when things felt a little too quite after he started to noticed your absent in his lab. Ford was happy you were able to pursue something new and to take the time and effort to do it. He was aware of the little game you wanted to make for the sake of saying “I made this!”. When he had the free time, he’ll listen to you talk about the things you learned, some of the issues you faced and how you fixed them, etc etc. But he can only take so much before he had to really step in for your own sake.

The sky was dark out, and it was around 1am. You weren’t in bed yet. Again. Ford was really concerned for you now. Walking through the dim hallway, he opens up the door of your computer room. He can see you fully concentrated on your screen, looking over some codes you put together, as if you were trying to find any errors in the lines of text that was presented in front of you. It was obvious how dry your eyes were, how your body longed for rest, but the urge to keep going and to fix this one mistake kept you from wanting to sleep despite how much you felt the need to do so.

It was almost funny to him. A taste of his own medicine some would say. It reminds him of the many nights on how he too would refuse to stop for the night, always needing to do one more thing before he could let himself rest. How you would do your best to persuade him to let himself walk away from his work, to take care of himself to avoid any health complications, and to spend time with you in the comfort of your bed.

It made him feel guilty as well. The things you did for him and how much you loved him to always go out of your way to show it. Ford knew he was taking full advantage of that, and he wanted to repay it back.

You jumped a little in your seat when you felt his familiar six finger hand land on your shoulder, being so focused on the lines of text on your screen that you forgot where you were for a good bit. You look over at Ford as he stood beside your seat, giving him a weak smile.

“Oh hey! Do you need anything?” You asked before quickly looking back at the screen again.

“Love, when was the last time you ate?” Ford asked you in a gentle voice.

“Uh… I had breakfast?” You answered, only remembering you had some toast with a sunny side egg on top when you last ate. It didn’t seem like it mattered too much though.

“Its almost one am” Ford replied, a little stern this time. You quickly check the clock on your taskbar, feeling surprised from how much time had passed.

“Oh… oops” you spoke mostly to yourself, feeling a little silly for not checking the time more often. “I’ll probably head to bed soon”

“Not soon,” Ford points out, “you’re going to bed now.” His words made you look at him again, confusion viable on your face.

“Just let me do this one fix-” Ford says your name, stern voice again, causing you to stop your sentence.

“You are fully aware of the effects of not taking care of yourself” Ford spoke to you with a smirk on his face. You knew that he was referencing the many of times where you brought out the facts of how the lack of sleep and self care can affect your health and day to day life. It was the best way to convince him to come to bed and let you cuddle with him until you were both asleep. “You’re no different form me, sweetheart. Got to practice what they preach, as they say”

“Uh…. I’m built different?” You gave a half shrug and a low chuckle at your own joke. Obviously, this did nothing to change his mind. You knew he was right, and had nothing to say to argue back. Ford knew this too. “Fine… let me quickly save and shut off my computer…”

Ford watches you quickly save any progress before shutting off your computer, the light of the screen turning off and making the room dark as it was the only thing on. As you start to stand, your body fully conveyed how tired you really were. You were about to walk to the hallway door before Ford lets out a ‘let me’, and you were now being picked up bridle style in his arms. You let out a small gasp, often forgetting how much muscle the older man has as he often hides it away in his iconic turtleneck. The comfort of him holding you made the realization at your own exhaustion hit hard. You can feel yourself somewhat go limp as Ford carried you to your shared room.

Ford felt you quickly relax in his arms, feeling prideful as he carried you to your bed. Sitting you on the side and pulling the blanket back. He lays you on your pillow before fallowing suit into his usual spot on the bed beside you. Your eyes were shut as you let yourself sink into the soft mattress, the weight of the blanket being pulled over you giving a sense of security, along with how his arms wrapped around you to pull you close to his chest. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, getting a few shivers down your spine.

“Sorry…” You mumbled to him, feeling guilty now for making him go out of his way to get you to bed. You feel him chuckle into your skin, the smile forming on his face being easily felt on your skin.

“Nothing to be sorry about sweetheart,” his replied, voice audibly sounding more tired, “I should be the one to apologize, making you go through this almost every night. I see how doing this almost all the time can be a bit frustrating for you.”

“Not if its you,” You were quickly to reply, “I’m always happy to make sure you’re okay”. Ford felt his heart flutter at your words. You always did surprised him with how much you loved him despite how many times you pointed it out.

“The feeling is mutual,” Ford placed a kiss on your skin as he caressed one of his thumbs that rested on you, “lets get to sleep now, I’ll be sure to do something for you in the morning” Ford gave another kiss on your skin, and you can’t help but to feel excited for what he had planned.

Silence followed as you two let yourselves slowly fall asleep in each others comfort. Feeling his steady heartbeat on your back lulled you to your sleep.

Ford smiled when he realized you fell asleep before he did. It was no surprise, you needed it really bad. Without fail every night when he has you in his arms like this, he feels like the luckiest man in the multiverse. He didn’t deserve you, but it was almost as if this is the repayment he deserved after many years of suffering, a way of life saying sorry to him.

And he wouldn’t ask for anything else.

[shyvioletcat]

~ Rowaelin Month Day 15: What if…? ~

*cracks fingers* Alright. Let’s cause some trouble. An alternate end to Heir of Fire if you will. Italics at the start come from the book.

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~

“I do. Until my last breath, and the world beyond. To whatever end.”

She would have paused then, asked him again if he really wanted to do this, but Maeve was still there, a shadow lurking behind them. That was why he had done it now, here—so Celaena could not object, could not try to talk him out of it.

It was such a Rowan thing to do, so pigheaded, that she could only grin as she drew the dagger across her wrist, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. She offered her arm to him.

With surprising gentleness, he took her wrist in his hands and lowered his mouth to her skin.

For a heartbeat, something lightning-bright snapped through her and then settled—a thread binding them, tighter and tighter with each pull Rowan took of her blood. Three mouthfuls—his canines pricking against her skin—and then he lifted his head, his lips shining with her blood, his eyes glittering and alive and full of steel.

There were no words to do justice to what passed between them in that moment…

~~~~~

“Quite a performance you’ve put on, Aelin,” Maeve drawled. There was something unsettling in her tone, something that had Celaena on edge. She had won this round against Maeve, outwitted and outplayed, leaving with everything that she wanted and could take. So why then was the Queen of fae so smug as she turned towards her throne, dark dress splaying elegantly as she sat down. “You’ve threatened to turn my people to ash, you’ve taken a member of my court, but you are still a child. Young to this world and the secrets it holds. You have your fire, but there are other powers you have yet to contend with.”

Rowan stepped closer, not in comfort but preparing to fight. Celeana was his to protect now and she did not doubt that he would put himself in harm's way to defend her. The slightest hint of threat from the Queen and he would use his body to protect Celaena first, then whatever else he could get his hands on.

“I have something for you, Rowan,” Maeve said, a spider’s smile on her lips. “A parting gift.”

“I want nothing,” Rowan said, his voice strong but breathless. The injuries inflicted by the twins were still unattended and would be incredibly painful no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

“Oh, I think you will want this,” Maeve said. Without turning to the other males in the room she commanded, “Leave us.”

The five of them did, silent and without expression as they obeyed. Without her cadre Maeve was no less of a threat, both Celaena and Rowan stood at the ready, waiting for whatever she decided to strike with next. Maeve stood and there was a silent demand to follow.

Do we? Aelin asked, glancing up at Rowan.

Her blood was still on his lips, the sight of it almost disappearing as he contemplated. I’m unsure.

But you want to.

Rowan nodded once. I’m curious to see what it is.

That was all the answer that Celaena needed. She took Rowan’s hand and followed after Maeve who had kept walking, knowing they would come. After a while Maeve led them to a door, behind it a narrow hallway and staircase that went down. Their footsteps echoed on the stone steps, none of them speaking. Behind her Rowan’s breaths turned ragged and Celaena wished that she could take the time to heal him.

They came to another door, made of wood and looked ancient. Maeve laid her palm on it, murmuring soft words that were followed by a ripple of power. The door opened and beyond was a room, the darkness inside pitch black. Still holding onto Rowan, Celaena held up her other hand, flames blazing. Not deterred by the dark, Maeve stepped into the room, disappearing from sight. Looking to Rowan one more time for confirmation, hand in hand, they entered the dark together.

At first even with her fae sight Celaena couldn’t see anything. It took a few moments to adjust to the shadows that seemed to fight against her fire. And then in the centre of the room something glimmered. A silver surface reflected the flames. From what Celeana could garner from the outline she could see, the object was rectangular and about the length of a body. Her gut sunk as she realised what it was: a coffin. She threw her flames wide, illuminating the entire room. Something was very wrong, Celaena could feel it.

“Thank you niece,” Maeve said, voice echoing in the domed room. “It has been centuries since they last saw light.”

Celeana’s sight adjusted again, and she couldn't decipher much besides the fact that whatever it was on the dais was made of glass. Letting go of her hand Rowan stepped around her to get closer and between her and the potential threat. The sight of his ravaged back had bile rising in Celeana’s throat and her flames burning brighter as her anger flared. She’d kill Maeve for that— and all her other sins.

Then Rowan stumbled, but not from pain. He seemed to be caught between lunging forward and reeling back. “How?”

“Fae children are precious, even to me,” Maeve said.

Celaena doubted anything was sacred to Maeve, but the words had made her curious. It took three steps to get to Rowan’s side and she was able to see through the glass. He was utterly still, staring at what was in front of them, an unreadable expression on his face. Celaena followed that gaze to see what Maeve had deigned to gift the Prince.

Oh gods.

The coffin was made up of panes of glass, each piece joined with ornate streams of silver. The beauty of it was startling, a work of art, but what held Celaena’s unwavering interest was what was inside. Of who was inside.

There was a fae female, her brown hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her head. She looked as though she was asleep, dressed in a white flowing gown embroidered with flowers made from an iridescent thread. The female didn’t hold Celaena’s attention for long, because there, tucked into the crook of the female’s arm was an infant. The child was small, tiny hands tucked under their chin. They too looked as though they were asleep, peaceful and frozen in time.

Celeana watched for signs of life. Both figures were unmoving, eyes closed and still. All her focus went into searching for something—anything—that would prove they were alive. The hold Rowan had on himself broke and he lunged forward, his hand splaying on the glass, residue of blood tarnishing the glass. He was watching with the same intensity Celaena was, even more so. Maeve’s soft venomous laughter echoed through the room, filling it. Only she could be amused by something as cruel as this.

Then there it was. The thump of two heartbeats, perfectly in sync, slow and quiet. The temperature plummeted and Rowan’s entire body shuddered in relief and he fell to his knees.

Celaena didn’t need to be told who lay in the coffin. This was Lyria Whitethorn, Rowan’s mate, who’s tragic story was inked into his skin. And the child was theirs and she wondered if they would be blessed with the Whitetorn silver hair. Celaena tried to process what she was seeing, what this would mean for her and Rowan and their journey forward. An agonised sob torn through the quiet of the room as snowflakes glittered in the air. At that sound, Celeana found that her heart was broken too.

“A reward for all your years of dedicated service, Rowan,” Maeve said, coming to stand on the opposite side of the coffin. “Your family.”

~~~~~

……. Yes I felt like breaking hearts

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[icewindandboringhorror]

................ he 

[cosettegf]

i love the penumbra podcast and i love second citadel and i really enjoyed listening to the finale but i feel. weird about the way this show treats its female characters???

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[starry-bi-sky]

what piercings does Danny have in your CFAU?

Danny’s got double lobe piercings on both ears, and then helixes, and an orbital on one side! Then he’s got an eyebrow piercing on the right side of his face. I don’t have any particular reason for why he’s got piercings as an adult, I just thought it’d be a fun way to indicate a physical change from when he was 14 and last saw the Waynes, to the next time they see him. Although with this version of Danny (rather than my original, unserious beta version of CFAU), it probably would follow that he'd potentially get piercings when he was older. (So not a total shock)

[dmitriyuriev]

Can't believe fgo gave Limbo machine-destroying shikigami bugs, but didn't have him so much as threaten to use them on the mechanical doll girl he's weirdly fixated on, it's a shame...