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saerins · 2 years ago

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─── 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄

+ gojo x f!reader | wc 2.3k | content: modern au, fluff, slight angst, rich!gojo, rich!reader, arranged marriage but reversed(?), slightly suggestive

notes: haha i was exploring tropes and this just came to me :’) fairly nervous so feedbacks and reblogs appreciated muwah <3

summary: sometimes you think that you and gojo are not meant to be. and sometimes, he itches to prove you wrong.

there are many things you would call gojo satoru. partner in crime, friendship on fire, a twisted manifestation of the kind of romance that would consume you whole if you didn’t take precaution.

“ready to do this, baby?”

he’s as sweet-lipped as ever, the honeyed words overflowing from his tongue. how you’d miss it, those words you hear at night, the saccharine praises that send you into overdrive.

“only if you are, sweetie.”

you’re equally good at it, having learned from one of the best—gojo satoru himself. you smirk at him, straightening his suit and tie. he looks devilishly handsome in that tailored suit, the one you had made for him. if you recall correctly, he only saves it for a special occasion.

and it qualifies—today is definitely a special occasion.

“so happy to be getting rid of me?” satoru asks you, pouting and putting on his best puppy eyes. his white lashes house a sea of crystalline blue, the kind you’ve gotten addicted to, the same pair you’d gotten lost in many times over.

you’ll never forget it.

the way satoru’s lips ghost over your own. the way his index finger trails up the side of your arm. he likes the goosebumps that sear across your skin. satoru loves knowing the effect he has on you.

this marriage of convenience has taken its toll on both your families. in hindsight, they should’ve known that they can’t control either of you. the gojo family, for all they’re worth, thought that gojo satoru would never betray their money, their status. and your family—they’d always known you’d objected to these notions; convenience, business, romance—the way these three intertwine intentionally, a manufactured relationship borne out of familial ties.

it’s bullshit.

how lucky for you, that gojo satoru felt the same. he still feels the same, which is why he’s in front of you right now, getting ready to drop the bomb in the investors’ meeting.

his father is sure to kill him, but that’s provided he can get through you first.

sure, getting married to gojo satoru was not in your life plans. your mother had chosen a very apt timing to tempt you, quoting half a million dollars as the condition for getting and staying married to that gojo boy. and sure, she can do her best to try and haggle that money back from you once the both of you are done with today, but you’re guessing she’ll be facing much more important and pressing matters than simply getting money back from her defiant daughter.

“this is what we discussed, satoru,” you sigh, avoiding his question like he knew you would. “one year, that’s all we needed. and look where we are now.”

satoru smiles, pearly whites and bad boy charm. “i’d miss you in my bed at night though.”

you smack him playfully across his chest. he only chuckles lowly, fondly, his right hand on your head, brushing your hair. it almost makes you want to stay. but that wasn’t part of the deal, and you’re not sure that either you or satoru are ready for commitments.

“must’ve been some pretty good sex to make the gojo satoru miss me, huh?” you play along, pushing yourself away gently, your hand on his chest.

satoru tips your chin up with his finger, looking you in the eyes as he tells you, “babe, you’re the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

complete romantic, as you can tell. (you can’t stop his vulgar tongue even if you tried.)

“okay okay, stop stalling, satoru,” you chide him, holding your palm out, smiling as he takes it. “got the evidence?”

satoru holds a thick envelope out, grinning. “all here.”

the two of you stand outside the conference room for a minute, staring at each other. in another world, maybe you’d be in this hotel with gojo satoru where you’re actually married—for feelings rather than a transaction. in that other world, maybe you and gojo satoru were childhood sweethearts, the kind where you grew old without all the fucked up relationships that branded both of you too overwhelmed to be in a real one right now. hey, maybe in that world, maybe just maybe, that vow that gojo satoru had uttered on your wedding day (the same that you had uttered as well)—maybe he would’ve meant it.

you didn’t think you would come to like gojo satoru. it’s been a long time since you’d first met him. when you’d seen him stomping into the meeting room of your company’s office like he owned the place, like everyone there was beneath him. he’d gotten right under your skin then and there.

getting along was no easy feat. it took three months for the both of you to agree to live together. strangely it took just one night for you both to give in to temptation once you did start living together.

both of you are menaces—that’s what your mother would say.

somehow, somewhere, those feelings you thought you’d never feel before blossomed again. the kind of trust you didn’t think you’d ever give was given to satoru and you wonder if he even knows it. but satoru has never changed his stance on relationships since the first time you met him; they’re a waste of time.

“you know, if you wanna keep me, all you gotta do is say so.” satoru’s looking at you, that jester smile plastered on his face. you can’t see his beautiful eyes when it’s all crinkled up like that, but you thank god for that. you don’t know how you’d resist him if you could see them.

“dream on, satoru,” you deflect, and expertly. you’re great at hiding your real feelings like that. “our deal ends today.”

yeah, the deal the two of you made with each other, right when both families thought their children had made peace with their decision, or their fate, as they liked to call it. neither you nor gojo felt any affection for the family you grew up in, not when they’d never took interest in either of you as anything other than an heir. when both your childhoods were filled with extra readings and learning proper manners. when satoru grew up learning from his father that women were just a means to a child and you’d grown up learning from your mother that if a girl is not beautiful then she is not desirable. you remember how she almost disowned you for getting a scar on your face, even though it was only temporary.

she has a penchant for the overdramatics. you think today might be no different. you hope not. the entire aim of today is to bring about the crumble of two empires—gojo’s and your family’s.

to hell with their money and their dirty syndicates. it’s filthy money they have their hands full with, and frankly, you and satoru are done playing their pawns.

as satoru leads the way, you loop your arm around his elbow, watching as his father is taken completely off-guard when he watches his own son expose his schemes, watching as your own parents try to salvage the situation by saying how children these days would do anything to get out of their responsibilities.

they’re all walking ironies.

you both watch as the investors walk out one by one, outraged and disappointed. you watch as satoru’s own father vows to kill him, and you scoff as your own mother seconds his notion.

“not if the law gets you first,” you tell them, effectively shutting them up as they hear the police sirens in the air.

they spew about how the both of you are pieces of shit as they’re taken away, and you find you couldn’t care less. maybe it’s a little inhuman of you not to feel a thing when you watch your parents getting taken away in handcuffs. but then again, they’d never really treated you like a human either.

“here you go,” satoru chirps as the sirens drown into the background. he holds out another envelope, this one solely for you.

you smile, a melancholy washing over you as you take it from his hands and take the documents out, flipping to the last page where satoru has already signed.

“our divorce papers,” you coo, “how romantic.”

because gojo satoru is always a romantic.

he remembers your birthday and remembers your favourite cake. he remembers what you need when you’re upset, never makes you feel alone. he remembers how you like your eggs and purposely cooks them wrong all the time. he remembers how you take your coffee and always gives you tea. he remembers how you always nag at him for annoying you and then annoy you some more because for some reason you look very attractive when you’re angry.

it takes you a minute to sign your own name. it kind of feels lonely now, thinking how you’ll never go back to the same apartment as satoru. how you won’t see him sprawled out on the couch, pouting because you’re a little late for movie night. how you won’t catch him staring at your body as you get changed. how you won’t get to throw your pillows at him in the morning for tickling you in bed just to get you to wake up.

after all—you’d agreed; these affections were temporary like they were always meant to be.

you can’t help but find yourself wishing for more. but you were raised to be ruthless, not stupid. you won’t let satoru know of your feelings, because all your deductions say that nothing good will come of it.

“hmm,” satoru hums as he eyes your signature. “wouldn’t be opposed to a special arrange—”

“not gonna be your fuckbuddy, satoru,” you deadpan at him, flicking his forehead.

“why not?” he whines, and you nearly cave.

because you can’t risk falling further than you already have when there’s absolutely zero chance of satoru catching you.

“because there’s a long line of guys i wanna date and you should get in line first,” you lie, and satoru smirks like he’s caught on to something.

but if he has, he doesn’t say a thing, and that tells you everything you need to know.

“guess this is it then, l/n y/n?”

you don’t want it to be, but it has to.

“you made a great fake real husband, gojo satoru,” you tell him, shaking his hand.

kind of a lame goodbye for two people who had shared everyday together for the past year. but you think maybe this brief goodbye should suffice. you don’t want the flames to burn either of you blue.

gojo satoru doesn’t say another word when you turn to leave.

and you don’t turn to look back at him as you walk away.

some chapters of your life should come to a close. your chapter with gojo satoru should remain here, kept close in your heart, kept warm as memories should.

six months later.

“i just think you and i would be suited for other people.”

it’s funny, how everything never works out between you and other guys. you don’t recall it being so hard with satoru. perhaps he was truly made for you, like the heavens designed. but both of you were too similar, too afraid of commitment. nothing was going to come out of it anyway.

and maybe that’s why you miss it.

his fleeting glances, soft lips on tender skin and a pair of calm blue that never fails to mesmerise you.

satoru is the fleeting kind of romance that burns so bright in its prime and the kind you can never keep close. not when he isn’t willing to tone it down and when you don’t have the tolerance to match.

strangely, maybe that’s also why you’re still drawn to him. you’re still hoping that there will be a flaw in the design, that your seemingly parallel lines will intersect somehow. that maybe you won’t have to try and replace him with someone else.

“yeah, kento, i get it,” you tell nanami, sipping on your tea as you watch him get up and go.

you and nanami would not have worked out anyway. not when you’re way too fucked up and he’s comparibly normal. it would be too much for him. you would be too much for him. you stare at the tea in front of you. you kind of miss those dates satoru took you on; trespassing on private property and reliving youth in arcades.

satoru is everything—love, heartache, gambles, sins. both of you are spun from the same thread, and maybe you believe that if soulmates exist, you and him have the same red thread twirled around your pinkies.

though, the fact that he isn’t here simply proves you to be wrong.

last you’d heard, satoru was travelling the world, carefree and spreading his wings like you always knew he would.

you find yourself wishing that perhaps, somehow, you’d meet him again. but you sigh and get up, knowing you are far too old for this wishful thinking.

but where you’d thought that satoru was roaming, you forget that he’s much like a swallow. because now, when you turn around, you catch that same shade of ocean blue staring straight at you, the same white locks that obstructed your vision in the mornings.

the same satoru who’d learned of love through you and you alone. the same satoru who, even if he leaves, will always find his way back to you, no matter how much you try to deny and push him away.

satoru takes two steps forward before he pulls you towards him, his long arms coming around you and holding you tight.

this time, he’s not going to let you go.

“y/n,” he calls your name softly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “wanna give this another shot?”

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #satoru x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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utilitycaster · 1 month ago

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One of your recent posts talked about the way BH have essentially "run out of plot" in following the Red Moon/Predathos plot and the way that the PCS are being played.

I was also curious about your thought on the interparty dynamics in the end game, particularly with recent developments. One of the issues I've had with Bell's Hells for a while now is the way they don't challenge each other (or at least not in the way previous parties have)

Yeah; they don't. And honestly I think this is a combination of just...luck of the draw of the characters they created combined with that lack of room for those characters to develop because they've been in an environment that hasn't allowed much time and space for anything but rushing to the next task. Like, as mentioned, a lot of characters are kind of here to hang out or have goals that aren't specifically tied to personal change, if they have specific goals at all. That's not a bad thing! Grog, Jester, and Fearne all share that quality and are all fantastic executions of it - and Grog and Jester do change quite a bit despite that because the story gives them many opportunities to do so, and yes, because their fellow party members challenge them. But it feels like the bulk of Bells Hells if not all of it is kind of in that boat.

I remember an early panel in which Marisha said "I don't want to think anymore" and I know Travis has mentioned something similar for Chetney, of wanting to play someone much more chaotic after playing someone so highly controlled as Fjord. Liam also talked about stepping back from being a major decision maker at some point, and built Orym to be someone who had a viewpoint but didn't specifically assert it (as we've just seen). Like, I think most resentment C3 fans have towards C2 is just jealousy and bitterness but perhaps a fairer grievance is that the cast really brought their A-Game to the Mighty Nein with a lot of incredibly complicated, driven, messy characters and due to the smaller nature of the company then combined with the scaled back production of the pandemic focused intently on them; and then nearly all of them made a bunch of fairly go-with-the-flow or chaotic characters as a breather and (not unfairly or unreasonably!) thought they'd be in a story that would give them space to become something else or that would suit them, and it didn't. As someone who likes actual play I think if nothing else this serves as a look into how fantastic overall cast chemistry doesn't translate into compelling party dynamics.

To be clear, I think Bells Hells like and care about each other, but none are really the type to both strive to be better and challenge those around them to be as well. Even their defenders in the fandom are kind of leaning on the party of NPCs line from very early on [which is funny because a lot of people HATED that line at the time; I got hate over thinking it was apt] but the thing is yeah at this point in the campaign, they shouldn't still feel like a party of NPCs. Perhaps this is a personal preference, which, to be clear, does not in any way invalidate it as criticism, but as someone with a bit of a comics background, I've never been terribly into "Suicide Squad"-esque stories but I am into stories of Person Who Has An Opportunity And Rises To The Occasion Despite Not Being The Best Choice On Paper. Ultimately, my issue isn't that Bells Hells come from humble backgrounds and tragedy (this is also...not untrue for the Mighty Nein, incidentally; in fact they had even less endorsement from powerful groups. Molly died 26 episodes in and he just stayed fucking dead because no one had Keyleth's phone number so this is another case of "your defense just makes me think the Mighty Nein achieve this in a far superior manner"); my issue is that, as Laudna put it, they kind of just walk through doors because they're in front of them. I don't need them to become classically heroic; but I do need them to have some sort of intention. And they don't. Why are you walking through doors? "Because they're there" doesn't cut it. You're here because the Exandrian Accord gave you a whole bunch of support so don't play that "i'm just a nobody with nothing" shit anymore, it's demonstrably untrue.

I had this in the tags originally and I decided, perhaps unwisely, to move it into this post because I think it's relevant, but: in case it's not apparent, I think "You! Are! Valid!" culture is fucking awful; this is what that weirdo who thinks I'm from Reddit is mad at, I think (honestly I'm not sure if they're angry, they might just be very unwell). Like, it has roots in something true and helpful; you are valid for things like your race, gender, sexuality, ability/disability, and things that have happened to you in the past. But actually no one is automatically valid for their actions. Being incurious or inconsiderate or incapable of taking constructive criticism, even if this is tied to your past? not valid. Your trauma and pain is valid; what you do in their name very much might not be. And I think a lot of people who love Bells Hells do not like this message (which, Bells Hells don't like this message, hence the repeated "whatever you do is fine" conversations) and kind of romanticize a "NO ONE IS ON OUR SIDE WE MUST DO WHAT IS RIGHT FOR US THERE'S NO GOOD ANSWERS" state in which one cannot be held responsible for action nor inaction and that's a lot of why they respond so dramatically to the increasing sense within the fandom that this party lacks the juice and does judge them for inaction. Like, I've been talking about character agency and how a lot of people's enjoyment of Bells Hells hinges on how they HAD NO CHOICES and I think we're seeing the fallout, which is that a TTRPG story (ie, a medium defined more so than anything else about player choices) about characters who were stripped of choice kinda sucks ass, and anyone who doesn't look to actual play D&D to valid their personal morality (which, in this case, usually is "the world is unfair so I can do whatever I want" anyway) would rather see a story about a character who fucking had a viewpoint and did things with it, even if it were a "bad" viewpoint. I know I'm hard on villain stans because a lot of them are actually people who are like "what if the VILLAIN were the HERO...I am very intelligent," but actually, this is the crux of why Darth Vader was very popular. It's not because people thought he was a good person; it's because he drove the story more so than the heroes much of the time, and people responded to that. Purely reactive characters are boring and to get back to your original point do not challenge each other unless someone else starts the reaction chain, and there just haven't been too many opportunities of the external nor internal variety to do it. It's mostly bad luck and again, a session zero could have fixed this, but it is what it is.

#cr spoilers

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manicpixiefelix · 17 days ago

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 27.

Summary: Felix takes charge of his own story, his own romance, and with intent to confront Ollie about his lies. He doesn't want you to fee like you have to do this alone. But neither does he.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Reader's biological parents are named Pearl & Andreas.

Warnings: discussions of the reader's parents continuing to be shitty to them via legal documents and wanting nothing to do with them.

A/N: 6032 words. google 'how do words work'. also HELLO! NEW YEAR!! since we last spoke like this, i proposed to my partner (i have a fiance now!!) i took more photos in my silly, little Saltburn costumes, both as Felix and Venetia (when they say 'get u a man who can do both' they mean me), i became a licenced Dogger (if u need someone for ground rigging at an event message me) and I continued to be UNWELL about saltburn. i missed you. how was your new years? Is this chapter at all coherent. OH ALSO WE GET A FELIX CHAPTER NOW! I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOUR!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

It's your voice that echoes in Felix's mind as he tries to fall asleep that night. So often it is, but usually the words are far sweeter than the broken whisper that plays on repeat when he closes his eyes.

"I want to know why he did what he did before I tell you."

Felix is desperately trying to make himself believe that this isn't like last time, that this isn't like Eddie, but right now, from his shockingly limited perspective, it's hard not to focus in on the similarities. So he has to believe in you; if not you, then who, or what? Oliver? That's a hard no right now, but something about Oliver, despite everything has you believing, and Felix has never not trusted your judgement before. He's not going to start doubting you now.

And fucking hell, he can't even begin to process the revelation that it had been you who had caught Venetia and Eddie last Summer, not Farleigh. He might owe Farleigh an apology after all of this, or some kind of thank you basket... for what, he's not exactly sure of in this moment, but it definitely feels apt. Maybe for still putting up with him all this time, all things considered. Farleigh had never liked Oliver -

Again, Felix has to remind himself to trust in you in this moment, to breathe deep and believe it's not like last time. However the smug devil on his shoulder - that definitely looks like Farleigh wearing those two party hats and a shirt that simply says 'Easy', telling him 'I told you so' - is very loud.

But by his side, your breathing has evened out, and the air that flutters in through the half-open window is surprisingly cool for the Summer, and though the stars you'd painted and stretched across the ceiling have lost their glow after hours in the dark, if he squints, he can still make out his favourite constellations.

Felix has never been as sentimental as you, at least that's what he tells himself. That's what he lets everyone believe. If you knew better, you'd be the only one, not that you'd ever tell anyone. That's one of the many things Felix likes about you; you're sentimental enough for the both of you. The things you hold onto are so often special to the two of you; as much as Felix is glad you hold onto them, as much as he loves that they so often end up in his - your shared - room, the only person who he lets see that affectionate appreciation is you. You're the only one that matters.

He's entirely too aware of how he's perceived by others. He'd argue - again, to you alone and never anyone else - that he had to be. Felix had always been more self aware than most people liked to give him credit for, despite his best effort. Efforts to not be self aware that is, because when he thinks too hard about it, his life becomes almost claustrophobic. The privilege, the constant eyes on him, the expectations.

"You're Sir James' and Elspeth's son." Sometimes he thinks about the first conversation the two of you had shared, how you'd identified him before he'd even said his name; "you're Felix Catton." Ten years old, and the first person in all the years that Felix had already been paraded out like a show pony, to make him feel like a person.

Right now, his role had barely changed, it was that of fanciful youth; be pretty whilst headed in the direction of success. One day there'd be responsibilities, but both his parents were in good health and sound of mind, so he was to do what he pleased so long as he kept up appearances, wore a suit when they asked him to, and barked on command in front of their impressive, vapid friends.

For all that the estate dripped with it's own kind of sentimentality, it's impressive history oozing from the walls themselves, his parents, and the company they kept, so often favoured novelty. Felix does too, he knows this, he's a Catton after all... most of the time.

Sometimes, around you, and once or twice this Summer with Ollie if he's being honest, he felt like he didn't belong amidst these people, his family, at Saltburn... Or, well, no; he felt like he didn't want to belong at Saltburn.

Right now, staring up at those stars you'd painted for him all those years ago, he feels it so strongly he aches. He wants to belong to that little apartment in London you'd asked him to run away to, wanted to belong to something that wasn't a sister who'd roll her eyes at his heartbreak, or parents who'd sweep it under the rug. His role in this home, this family, had never been one that allowed for him to be broken hearted. For Venetia, it had always seemed almost expected, but Felix was expected to be the one breaking hearts if he was ever in that situation.

Love was meant to be freeing. For most of his life, it had been. After all it's why he'd always been so grateful to have found you so early in life. He knows it's a big part of the reason his family had taken to you so quickly, why his parents had allowed you to stay, to get so close.

Felix closes his eyes and he still sees the stars above.

Still, sleep eludes him. If you can tell, or if you could feel the absent-minded way he was still stroking your back when you'd woken up and realised he hadn't thought to stop, you don't say anything. The air is different, Felix is exhausted already, and you are tender with him. You always are, but this morning is different. Almost difficult for you.

It's soothing to focus on you. He knows you've always struggled when confronted with a problem you felt like you weren't allowed to solve, however he's grateful that you're letting him step up. He's done being passive, done being the one in this relationship that things just happen to at the behest of the people around him. That's his usual role when there's even a hint of genuine emotional investment. It's suffocating; like his role at Saltburn, his role as Future Lord Catton, he doesn't want to belong in that neatly defined identity.

Felix wants, no, he needs to believe he can do for himself what you've always happily done for him. So he's grateful that you're letting him try... even if he sees how uncomfortable you are, how you're holding yourself back from offering to make all his troubles go away, if only he'd ask. Usually, he didn't even have to do that. Now, you can't even look at him, can't stand to see him exhausted and unhappy and being unable to help. You'll spiral, or break the agreement the two of you had come to the night before, so you don't look at Felix. But he looks at you.

Even with all the emotional turmoil the two of you found yourselves in with Oliver, there's no doubt about you in Felix's mind. Honestly, he's even ashamed that there ever was back at Oxford, even if it was only akin to a heartbeat of time in your relationship.

Except that wasn't the whole truth. That golden afternoon he still recalls so clearly, you surrounded by newspapers, searching for Ollie's dad's obituary to try and memorialise the man who, by all accounts, didn't deserve it. Felix has always kind of known that you were far better than he deserved. It was never you he doubted, it was himself.

He hated that he'd made you cry that afternoon, hated that you'd so clearly seen and spelled out how scared he was of the idea of you finding someone better than him, someone like Ollie who could love you, could treat you right, without needing Felix as an audience. Hated that you were right. Hated everything that said about him. Most of all, he hated how he couldn't even bring himself to ask the one goddamn question you wanted him to.

Could you love someone without me?

The thought of any answer was terrifying to him at the time.

If you'd answered yes, he'd have to face the idea of a life without you, no matter how small the possibility. But if your answer was no, he knows all he'd feel is guilt. Even if he'd pretended not to notice, he'd loved Eddie without you. Felix had still loved you, he's certain he'll never stop, but as much as you'd liked Eddie before he'd come to Saltburn, you never loved him.

And even if he ignored every single red flag at the time, Felix knew in his heart that Eddie had never really even cared about you as a person. Then again, had he even cared about Felix? Considering what happened last Summer, how things had ended, how Felix has never heard from him since, he - he doesn't want to think about it. It's in the past, he tells himself.

But Felix loves this thing between you, Oliver, and himself more than he'd ever loved what he had with Eddie. Felix isn't afraid of the question anymore, because he knows you well enough to know your answer would be just the same as his. It's the essentially the same answer he'd given that night he'd asked if you could live without him.

Even if I could, I wouldn't want to.

Which is why he's doing this. Because despite all his attempts at denial, he loved Ollie, and you love Ollie, and aside from this one issue - and the subsequent lying - it seemed that Ollie loved you both too. So he has to do this; you've been caught in the crossfire of Ollie's lies for Felix's sake, now it's his turn to step up and sort things out. Make things right.

That's why he watches you, he's doing this so he can see you smile again. Without hesitation, or reservation just behind your eyes.

And right now you aren't even able to smile.

Nothing feels real at breakfast. Felix thinks he can taste static. No Farleigh. Ollie, oblivious. Venetia reading at the table and avoiding looking at anyone. His parents, as always, in their own, little bubble.

"Venetia, please no headphones at the table," Elspeth sighs. Venetia sighs louder, but obliges without looking up. She's not even pretending to eat breakfast with them this morning, book open on her empty plate as she sips tea. The only person she engages with is James, who asks about her book. Venetia doesn't even look up, and her voice is forcibly light, like it alone can mask how she looks like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"I forgot we had it," she admits softly, though her next words have Felix instinctively scowling, "I think Pearl left it here for Farleigh a few years ago after one of those Arts dinners, but he's never touched it. It's a biography of that performance artist in New York, the controversial one, Marina Abramović. I found it going through his room the other day."

"The one that Aunt Fred cheated on her husband with?" Felix can't help but ask as the name lights up something in the back of his mind.

"Supposedly," Venetia's tone is dismissive, and she turns to the next page, "Farleigh thinks it's a load of bull his dad was spouting when he found out we'd cut her off, but I have seen Fredricka Start mentioned as a collaborator here. Maybe Aunt Fred did have a lesbian affair with a controversial, Serbian, performance artist. Seems like something she'd do."

Before Felix can even process any of this, James steers the conversation away from his estranged sister's potential affair with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, asking if the book itself was any good. Shrugging, Venetia takes another sip of tea, sounding so utterly nonchalant.

"I'm still making my mind up about it, I'll tell you when I'm done."

Remembering the utter state you'd been in last night coming back from spending time with Venetia, Felix can't help but hope his sister is hurting over whatever words the two of you had shared.

It seems Duncan senses the strangeness too, as he's uncharacteristically mobile, at least for him, making the rounds about the table when they all know the maids are more than capable of collecting the dishes themselves. Felix watches him circle like a vulture.

For just a moment, their eyes meet. Usually looking into Duncan's eyes is like gazing at a stone wall of unshakeable professionalism, today however there was... something there. Something utterly unreadable. Still, it was an anomaly. Duncan definitely feels the strangeness in the room.

"Is there anything I can get you, Felix?" He sounds as curt as ever though. Felix gives a practiced smile, declining. Finally, he looks away. Duncan gives a moment of pause before adding, "anything for the Captain?" When Felix looks back to him, he sees the way Duncan's eyes flick to you, by Felix's side, how he must sees what Felix does in his peripheries - the barest shake of your head that he's sure all others at the table miss, but Felix and Duncan never would - but he still waits for Felix's answer. Because you too are quiet, in trapped in your own mind in a way none of you can articulate, but all seem to understand.

"No, they're fine," Felix gives a more genuine smile, "thank you, Duncan." Duncan nods, stepping back from where he'd been hovering by Elspeth's chair, striding over to take Venetia's empty tea cup and pass it on to a bemused, waiting housemaid.

"Are you alright, Pet, you seem rather out of sorts this morning," Felix and Duncan's interaction had caught his otherwise oblivious mother's attention, as she finally turned to you. As if woken from a trance, you look up to Elspeth, almost surprised by the question.

"Yeah, I -" but you take a moment to breathe. Beneath the table, Felix gently pets your thigh in silent support. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you start again, "I think I may have to quarantine myself in the study for the morning," you sighed, though your smile doesn't reach your eyes. When Elspeth asks if you're feeling alright, you give a humourless laugh, gaze going back to your food. You take another bite before explaining, "I'm fine, however this contract from Andreas and Pearl gets more convoluted and ridiculous the further I read; I think a quarantine is the only way to save you all from their toxic bullshit."

"Have you had a lawyer look it over?" James asks with genuine interest, putting down his paper, but your expression just scrunched up with vague confusion.

"I think that breaks the contract?"

"That you haven't signed?" Ollie points out. Clearly your mind has actually switched to thinking about the contract, rather than the clusterfuck of a situation with Ollie himself, because you do take his words onboard.

"Which I haven't signed," you agreed, face scrunching up further, as if you're trying to recall details outlined in the document itself, "I think if I'm able to find an untraceable way to contact them, um, somehow indirectly, they might send me a lawyer of my own?" You don't exactly sound sure, however you follow it up with a humourless smile, "but if I contact them directly, I believe they think it will curse my entire bloodline, even retroactively, and therefore they will trebuchet me directly into the sun."

Despite everything Felix laughs at that, as does Venetia. Farleigh would have too, if he were here.

"Darling, they're not going to trebuchet you into the sun -" Elspeth tries to soothe you, surprisingly genuine care in her tone.

"Mum, I think you underestimate how much Andreas loves that stupid trebuchet he built during college," you respond flippantly, before gesturing to James at the end of the table, "you helped, didn't you? You know he loves it."

"I-" James actually seems a little surprised, taking a moment to recall what you were speaking of, "I had forgotten all about that, but yes," he begins to smile fondly, "quite an impressive feat we pulled off that Summer, building that - was it a trebuchet? Have I've been misremembering it as a ballista all these years?"

While James was fondly caught up in his reminiscing, Elspeth just looked a little forlorn. However Oliver, seemingly bewildered by the entire concept, can't help but voice his surprise.

"You spent your Summer building an actual trebuchet with Y/N's dad?"

"Yes, I suppose I did," James chuckled, "at the end of our first year, I believe, just a few months before Andreas and Pearl got engaged. Andreas invited myself and a few of our mates to stay at his family's townhouse in - oh, it was so long ago now - Kensington, I think? Four of us from Oxford, Andreas, and his brothers, all working on this project and otherwise having a grand, old time around London."

"Wait, was that the Summer you kept running into Freddie Mercury and his husband?" Venetia piped up, to which James smiled broadly.

"Garden Lodge was just a few doors down," he enthused brightly, "it seemed like every other day Jim would have to come and collect one of their cats from where we were working; Delilah was very fond of Andreas especially."

Felix himself is bewildered by the information; he knew your parents attended Oxford at the same time as his, but sometimes he forgot that they were actually friends before you and Felix got involved. Of course he kind of knew, considering both of your mothers' heavy involvement in the Arts' Collective, but to think his father had once spent a Summer with your own... It felt uncomfortable in ways Felix hadn't expected.

But when he looks back to you, there's something faraway in your gaze. Your smile doesn't even begin to reach your eyes.

"He's still very proud of it, I'm sure," you tell him with as much warmth as you're able, "the trebuchet, I mean," which Felix knew to mean 'he was proud of it when I was a child, but I haven't spoken to him in years'.

"Darling," Elspeth brings the conversation back around, her tone firm but sweet as she reiterates, "they're not going to trebuchet you into the sun."

At face value it sounds ridiculous, but there's something about how his mother can see through your hyperbole to how genuinely hurt you are by the whole situation that makes Felix quietly marvel. Even with all of her strangeness about you, your identity, and even your relationship with Felix at times, she honestly cares about you. Sometimes she seems to see you as clearly as Felix does.

Maybe she can help Felix see the whole situation with Ollie more clearly too.

In the moment that follows, you let the tension in you break for just a moment, fixing an endeared smile upon Elspeth for her kindness.

"I know," you assured her sincerely, "I'll be okay, I'm going to give nan a call and talk things through with her." With that, you stand, having had enough of this charade for the time being.

"Good," Elspeth nodded firmly, then adding, "give her my love."

"I always do," this time, your smile is entirely genuine, and for just a moment you turn it upon Felix. There's actual amusement as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"Am I allowed in the quarantine zone?" He can't help but tease in an attempt to play along and lighten your mood; your smile, for just a moment, widens.

"Even you, my love, are excluded," though you pause, giving it some thought, "until lunch." But then, as you contemplate leaving, as you seem to remember the totality of your situation, you face starts to fall. Felix takes your hand, giving it a squeeze, which you return, and press a kiss to the top of his head.

And then you're gone.

Ollie's looking at the doors you'd just left through, and Felix wonders if his concern is at all genuine. But before anyone can say anything else, Felix turns to his mother, trying his best to keep the mood light.

"Mum, could I have a word with you after breakfast?"

Immediately Venetia's head shoots up, looking sharply at Felix. It's a struggle to keep his focus on his mother's surprise and act like his sister's sudden attention in his peripheries didn't make his blood burn. She should be scared.

"Of course, Felix," Elspeth actually seems delighted that he wants to spend time with her, though for a moment her brow furrows, "is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course," he lies easily, "Y/N was just telling me about some stuff they wanted to chat to you about, and I said I could talk to you about it if they wanted to focus on their family stuff this morning. They made me a list," he adds for good measure. Elspeth's concern softens to understanding. Her thoughtful, helpful boy, he can almost hear her thoughts. Technically she's right.

Venetia's expression is sour, but she goes back to her book.

"Darling," Elspeth turns to James, who once again lowers his paper to give her his attention, "you were going to head into town this morning, were you not?"

"Yes," James perked up considerably, suddenly enthusiastic about his day, "one of the boys back from when I played polo invited some of the team to catch up over fish and chips," he seemed positively gleeful at the very novelty of the idea, "at a pub! I should be back before dinner."

"Oh, that sounds marvellous, I hope you have a wonderful time," Elspeth coos, before turning back to Felix, "would you like to have morning tea on the balcony of the sitting room next to your father's study?"

"Sounds perfect, mum."

However as he leaves the table, he's quickly followed by Ollie, who's asking what's wrong the minute they're alone.

"What?"

"What's wrong," Ollie repeats in earnest, "with you, with Y/N, with Venetia? Everything feels a bit off, you know? But I don't know why." He knows exactly why, the lying, little - but that thought's cut short. Considering the company his parents' keep, Felix knows all too well what fake concern looks like; Ollie is being infuriatingly genuine.

"My best mate's family is attempting to excommunicate them," Felix says through his teeth, gazing anywhere but at Ollie, "Venetia-" he huffs an irate sigh, lying when he says, "I couldn't begin to guess at the source of her mood, you'd have to ask her," which he regrets as soon as he says it; the last thing he wants is Ollie spending any more time with Venetia, especially when she's particularly volatile.

Rocking back on his heels, Ollie takes a beat to consider this, before ultimately coming to accept it. Side by side, they start back towards their rooms in silence. There's anger simmering just beneath Felix's skin, but if he opens his mouth, all he's going to do is start shouting. Being alone next to Ollie less than twelve hours after your revelations and his subsequent taking of responsibilities, not to mention his utter lack of sleep, means he's definitely not in his right mind to have a reasonable conversation about... well, anything.

"I want to know why he did what he did before I tell you."

That's what you'd kept repeating. Felix wants to be in a state of mind where he can get that information out of Ollie before actually passing judgement. But it was fucking difficult if he was being honest.

And outside of his room, Ollie apologises quietly. Felix keeps his mouth shut, but suddenly is levelling his furious gaze upon Ollie. Who doesn't see it. He's looking at the ground.

"S-sorry about Pearl and, um, their dad," he clarifies into the silence, "I can't remember his name."

"Andreas," Felix bites out automatically. Ollie's expression wrinkles reflexively; it's almost amusing, the way his reflexes give away his disdain for just the name itself. It's a wanky, asshole name, for a wanky, asshole man.

"Right," Ollie quickly recovers, finally meeting Felix's gaze. Thankfully the intensity of that gaze had softened, "I don't think they'll ever apologise, but I think Y/N deserves an apology," he admits. It's... conflicting; the sentiment is sweet, but Ollie has so much more he actually has to apologise for. Felix keeps his mouth shut. Clearing his throat, Ollie doesn't seem to be done, "but at least they're not Y/N's actual family," and in seeing Felix's faint confusion, he actually smiles, that small, sweet smile that's frustratingly endearing, "you are," he explained, "they said so themselves; you and Venetia and your mum and dad. Pearl and Andreas are excommunicating them, they've got better family than that."

Felix kind of hates how much he loves Oliver Quick and his thoughtful, insightful mind. How can he say things while Felix is mad at him that still make him want to sweep Ollie off his feet and kiss him? Bastard.

"It's what they deserve," Felix finally manages, reaching out to his doorknob, feeling the conversation coming to a close, "we love them a lot."

"Me too," Ollie agrees quietly, opening his own door, "hope morning tea with your mum is nice, I think I'm going to head down to the pool."

And he leaves Felix alone with his thoughts.

The minute he's in his room, Felix closes his curtains and flops into bed. One of the staff will come and fetch him when his mother is ready for morning tea. After this morning and all of last night, the only thing Felix knows for certain is that he can't have another serious conversation without at least an hour of sleep.

Thankfully he gets that hour. Actually his mother has the grace to give him several, as Duncan comes to collect him just before eleven. Felix feels like a child, still yawning and shuffling his feet for at least half the journey as the butler always stays three steps ahead. As if Felix could get lost in his own home. The only person who's ever been better than him at hide and seek around Saltburn was Venetia, and only because she's smaller and can fit in more obscure places.

All that to say that he doesn't need Duncan to lead him to his mother's favourite sitting room, but that's just how things have always worked around the estate. Felix doesn't even think to comment on it beyond thanking the head of staff as Duncan lets him in after a cursory knock on the door.

Felix has always liked his mother's favourite sitting room. It's one of the few rooms in the house that actually feels like someone lives there. It's where his mother keeps the portrait James commissioned of their family when Felix was a child. He remembers how his parents wanted the experience to be authentic, just as the royals on their walls would have had. It had been a real bonding experience for the Catton siblings, who absolutely hated said 'authentic' experience; right next to the beautiful, oil painting, Elspeth had lovingly framed the hand written letter a six-year-old Felix and eight-year-old Venetia had angrily written together, threatening to call the government if they were ever made to stay that still for that long in clothes that itchy ever again.

There's framed photos his mother loves but feels like she can't display in the rest of the house - unflattering or overexposed photos full of motion, and laughter, and love. An uneven throw that Venetia had made for a school assessment over the back of a sofa, accompanied by an lumpy, little pillow Felix had made for a similar school project only a few years later, amongst others bought from expensive, eclectic stores over the years. All the letters James had written Elspeth whenever they were away from each other, from the week they'd begun dating, to the day they got married, professionally bound amongst other coffee table books.

Gilded glimpses of his family's humanity.

If things somehow work out with Ollie, Felix makes a mental note to bring him here and show him every last thing. He'd never even thought to show Eddie this room, his mother had never even brought it up last Summer, though perhaps it was for the best. Or perhaps it was on purpose.

Elspeth is absolutely thrilled that he wanted to spend time with her. Before he's even halfway across the sitting room itself, she's off of the sofa on the balcony, and has met him halfway, kissing him on both cheeks with the biggest smile. Then she's taking his hand, asking him if he was able to get any more rest, as she leads him out to the little balcony, and the tea and biscuits waiting for them.

Felix tells her he had as he sits down beside her, but Elspeth takes gentle hold of his face, expression concerned. He knows he still looks tired before she even says anything.

Something in his mother's eyes changes, like she can see the sword of Damocles held aloft by a gossamer thread above his head. Usually she shies away from moments like this, from ugly ideas like heartbreak and discomfort, but she sits with him in this moment, quiet, giving him space and time to find his voice.

For just a moment he is a child again, and he is exhausted.

"I'm always glad to spend time with you, my darling," Elspeth tells him with the kind of softness he rarely hears from her anymore. She squishes his cheeks fondly, and Felix, going with his youthful impulse, shifts on the sofa so he can lay his head in her lap, squeezing his eyes shut.

He's too big for the tiny sofa at the best of times, but they make do, with Elspeth gently stroking his hair as she finally decides to break the silence.

"I was thinking of having Nana Bijou over, I'd love for her to meet Ollie," she says carefully; Felix can't manage more than a noncommittal hum right now. Depending on how things go with Ollie, he may have to talk his mum out of that idea, but he doesn't want to tip his hand just yet, "actually I was wondering what you would think if I invited her to Ollie's birthday."

Your Nana would probably have a blast at what you and Elspeth already had planned for the event, but Felix still held reservations. As cool as she was, he wasn't sure he wanted her to see either you or himself shitfaced, and no matter how things turned out with Ollie, Felix still kind of wanted the party to go ahead either way.

And if it went bad he'd definitely be shitfaced.

"Maybe," is all he can give his mother in this moment. It's like he can feel his mother's concern in the face of his perceived apathy; Felix loved your Nana as much as he hated your parents, his apathy was worryingly uncharacteristic, "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," Felix admits softly after a long sigh.

"I could tell," Elspeth gives his cheek a sympathetic pat, though she chooses to follow it up with - "though I must admit, that was my concern with you and Y/N sharing a room."

"Oh god, mum, not like that!" Felix hissed, mortified, his whole face scrunching up with embarrassment.

"Though I suppose I was fighting fate with that one, wasn't I?" She continues blithely, and Felix sits up, hunching over with his face in his hands.

"That's not- mum, please, I wanted to actually talk to you about something serious, can you not do this -" Felix groaned, and when he lowers his hands, he tries to give his mother an imploring look.

"Oh God, darling, please don't tell me you're pregnant," Elspeth bemoaned, expression practically pleading, "I'm too young to be a grandmother." This... wasn't the direction he'd been expecting. Actually, it might be worse.

"I'm... not?"

"You don't sound sure; is Y/N pregnant?"

"No," Felix answers flatly, but his confusion is only heightened as his mother continues on.

"It's not Oliver, is it?"

"It... it kind of is." His exhaustion and confusion are definitely about Oliver -

"He's pregnant?!"

"What?! No! Mum, what?!" This conversation is quickly veering out of control, and Felix has absolutely no way of stopping it. Unfortunately, his mother doesn't slow down.

"I'm sorry, I had assumed it would be either you or Y/N -"

"Why? Why would you assume that?" Felix tries to wrap his head around this, but it's not quite working, "especially me, the son you gave birth to?"

"Oh, Felix, please don't remind me," Elspeth mutter, looking vaguely squeamish, "I spent a lot of time repressing those memories."

"Isn't it the birth of your children meant to be the happiest days of your life?"

"Don't take it personally, dear; I love you, but I never enjoyed bringing you or your sister into this world. Hospitals are dreadfully ugly, even the nice ones, and the smell -" before she can continue, however, Felix cuts her off.

"Sorry, I just - I tell you I want to talk to you about something serious, and your first thought is that my best mate got me pregnant? I cannot stress this enough, mum, I am physically incapable of getting pregnant. I do not have the equipment."

"Which is why I then asked about Y/N -"

"Mum -"

"Well I don't know, Felix!" Elspeth huffed, "what was I meant to think when you and your- your- your gender-defying- subverting- whatever they are -"

"Non-binary, mum," Felix corrects automatically, but Elspeth continues like she hadn't heard him.

"- when the two of you are loudly debasing yourselves all over the estate?"

"Oh my god," oh, Felix kind of hates this.

"Don't be ashamed, dear, the rest of us just tend to avoid your wing of the house after sunset; it's not that hard, it's a big house. As long as you're both happy," Elspeth insists, before offering casually, "and I think Pamela, god rest her soul, was telling me about male seahorses just before she left -"

"I'm not a seahorse!" Felix cuts her off loudly, unable to believe this was a real conversation he was having, "I'm not pregnant! No-one's pregnant!" He throws his hands in the air, "I think I'm in love with Oliver, fuck, that's what I came here to talk about!"

"Oh thank god," Elspeth breathes with a laugh, petting Felix's knee. Her earlier concern has evaporated and she fixes him with a fond smile, "I know, sweetheart. Your father and I love you very much, and we always have, no matter who you love. We're glad you and Y/N have found such a beautifully interesting man who makes you both happy," she tells him pointedly, as if his whole point was that he was worried about coming out to her. Christ, like he hadn't explicitly introduced them to his whole boyfriend the year before.

Like you and Felix had any idea what the hell subtlety was when you were at Saltburn.

So maybe his mother sees the situation too clearly, if she can see how in love you and Felix both are with Ollie.

And maybe, despite her best efforts, she wasn't someone who could help Felix sort out all the bullshit in his head and heart. He'd have to bite the bullet and just talk to Ollie... preferably soon, because the stress was going to give him a headache. He has no idea how you held out for days, over a week, with this kind of thing weighing on you.

At least if things went well, he knew his mother liked Ollie.

But wait, what was that last bit?

"'Makes both of us happy'?" Felix frowned, "what's that supposed to mean?"

It was Elspeth's turn to look tired.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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astrronomemes · 4 months ago

Text

THE SECRET HISTORY: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 1992 novel The Secret History by Donna Tartt. change & alter as needed.

"I suppose, at one time in my life, I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell."

"If there's one thing I'm good at, it's lying on my feet. It's a sort of gift I have."

"I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive."

"He can't be all that elitist if he accepted me."

"Well, if he doesn't know, I'm not going to tell him."

"No person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us."

"Bloody, terrible things are sometimes the most beautiful."

"Let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones... then spit us out, reborn."

"I mean to say, [name] is a handsome fellow and a sterling character, but I wouldn't want to marry him, would I?"

"You had better watch out. I've heard some weird shit about those people."

"You're always saying that, [name], but I just don't think it's true."

"[Name], put me down. I'm bleeding all over you."

"You shouldn't push your friends away like that. The best friends you'll ever have are the ones you're making right now."

"I told you, I don't have any friends here."

"I think it's good to change the place where one sleeps from time to time. It gives one more interesting dreams."

"I mean, he's not what you think. Or what [name] thinks, or anybody else. For a while there, he had me fooled but good."

"The appeal to stop being yourself, even for a little while, is very great."

"You're being so nice about this. I feel awfully embarrassed by the whole thing."

"Well, you may or may not know this, but [name] is a little jealous of you."

"Jesus, [name], you know everything. You make me sick."

"They say the same about arsenic, but I wouldn't like to try it."

"Anything I do will be dangerous, you know."

"What do you and [name] need a secret code for?"

"A person can do an awful lot of talking in twelve hours."

"If we keep it as casual as possible, no one will give us a second glance. People don't pay attention to ninety percent of what they see."

"Really, there's nothing to worry about. It seems risky, but if you look at it logically, it couldn't be safer."

"Who do you think [name] would be more apt to believe?"

"Forgive me for being blunt, but if you think you have any influence over [name], you're sadly mistaken. He's not particularly fond of you, and if I may speak plainly, he never has been."

"There were some things you had to know, I suppose, but I feel I've done you a disservice by involving you this far."

"What is unthinkable is undoable."

"Anyway, you want to come to this party?"

"You idiot. Did you know your shirt is on inside out?"

"I had a dream tonight. You were in it."

"I need more than coffee."

"I'm embarrassed that people will think we went to see such bad movies."

"He knows we're lying. He just doesn't know what we're lying about."

"I prefer to think of it as a redistribution of matter."

"These guys will chop you up and put you in a garbage bag for twenty bucks."

"You know, we've done a terrible thing."

"You know, I'm really not attracted to you."

"Anything is grand if it's done on a large enough scale."

"You look as if you were in a barroom brawl."

"People get upset, all of a sudden they want to listen to old hippie garbage they would never listen to if they were in their right mind. When my cat died, I had to go out and borrow all these Simon & Garfunkel records."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask, what did you do to your eye?"

"Murder is pollution. The murderer defiles everyone he comes into contact with. And the only way to purify blood is through blood."

"You amaze me. You think nothing exists if you can't see it."

"He loved you, too. He would have wanted you to know that. You know that, don't you, dear?"

"Do you think I should go to the hospital?"

"I didn't take anything. You know very well I didn't."

"I would've told them anything if I thought they'd send me home."

"I mean, I've been drinking a bit more than I should. I'm the first to admit that."

"I never brought your name up, man. I hardly fucking know you. But they got it from somewhere. And it wasn't from me."

"Look at [name]. Don't you just love him? If he called me up and asked me to marry him, I would do it in, like, one second."

"Is death really so terrible a thing? It seems terrible to you, because you are young, but who is to say he is not better off now than you are? Or — if death is a journey to another place — that you will not see him again?"

"I'm not taking sides. I just think whatever you're doing, you picked a bad time to do it."

"[Name], it's none of my business, but I hope for God's sake you know what you're doing."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to make things so hard for everybody?!"

"You don't feel a great deal of emotion for other people, do you?"

"My life, for the most part, has been very stale and colorless. Dead, I mean. The world has always been an empty place to me."

"I know I said earlier that he was perfect, but he wasn't perfect. Far from it — he could be silly and vain and remote and often cruel, and still, we loved him, in spite of, because."

"Flesh and blood are frail and weak, and there comes a time when we have to transcend our teachers."

"I loved him more than my own father. I loved him more than anyone in the world."

"I don't care what happens to him. I don't care if he dies. I wish he was dead."

"[Name] can't hurt you. You're perfectly safe out here."

"Kidnap is not the word that I would use."

"So, you've come to kill me?"

"If you want to shoot me, [name], go ahead and do it. It'll be the stupidest thing you ever did in your life."

"The stupidest thing I ever did in my life was listening to you."

"I managed to get out of taking my French exams next week, due to the very excellent excuse of having a gunshot wound to the stomach."

"Forgive me, for all the things I did, but mostly for the ones I did not."

"You know, everybody is saying that you're dead."

"Are you happy here?"

#roleplay meme #rp meme #roleplay memes #rp memes #roleplay starters #rp starters #dialogue prompts #sentence starters #sentence prompts #sentence memes

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savagewildnerness · 3 months ago

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Delicious it was, the hatred between us, or so I thought. Such unfamiliar excitement, to have him there to ridicule and despise.

Yet suddenly the scene about me began to change. I wasn't lying in the rubble. I was walking through my house. And I wore not the filthy rags that had covered me for years, but a fine black tailcoat and a satin-lined cape. And the house, why, the house was beautiful, and all the books were in their proper place upon shelves. The parquet floor glistened in the light of the chandelier and there was music coming from everywhere, the sound of a Vienna waltz, the rich harmony of violins. With each step I felt powerful again, and light, marvelously light. I could have easily taken the stairs two by two. I could have flown out and up through the darkness, the cloak like black wings.

And then I was moving up in the darkness, and Armand and I stood together on the high roof. Radiant he was, in the same old-fashioned evening clothes, and we were looking over the jungle of dark singing treetops at the distant silver curve of the river and the low heavens where the stars burned through the pearl gray clouds.

I was weeping at the sheer sight of it, at the feel of the damp wind against my face. And Armand stood beside me, with his arm around me. And he was talking of forgiveness and sadness, of wisdom and things learned through pain. "I love you, my dark brother," he whispered.

And the words moved through me like blood itself.

"It wasn't that I wanted vengeance," he whispered. His face was stricken, his heart broken. He said. "But you came to be healed, and you did not want me! A century I had waited, and you did not want me!"

And I knew, as I had all along really, that my restoration was illusion, that I was the same skeleton in rags, of course. And the house was still a ruin. And in the preternatural being who held me was the power that could give me back the sky and the wind.

"Love me and the blood is yours," he said. "This blood that I have never given to another." I felt his lips against my face.

"I can't deceive you," I answered. "I can't love you. What are you to me that I should love you? A dead thing that hungers for the power and the passion of others? The embodiment of thirst itself?"

And in a moment of incalculable power, it was I who struck him and knocked him backwards and off the roof. Absolutely weightless he was, his figure dissolving into the grey night.

But who was defeated? Who fell down and down again through the soft tree branches to the earth where he belonged? Back to the rags and filth beneath the old house. Who lay finally in the rubble, with hands and face against the cool soil?

Yet memory plays its tricks. Maybe I imagined it, his last invitation, and the anguish after. The weeping. I do know that as the months passed he was out there again. I heard him from time to time just walking those old Garden District streets. And I wanted to call to him, to tell him that it was a lie I'd spoken to him, that I did love him. I did.

But it was my time to be at peace with all things. It was my time to starve and to go down into the earth finally, and maybe at last to dream the god's dreams. And how could I tell Armand about the god's dreams?

Lestat & Armand by @toriangeli 🖤🥀🌌. (I was trying to get Armand to have one arm around Lestat & then for them to hold hands too! But instead, they tantalisingly reach to each other, yet don’t quite touch. Perhaps in fact that’s simply more apt in any case?)

#interview with the vampire #violin improvisation #five stringed violin #violinist #violin #iwtv amigurumi #anne rice #amc interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #amc iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv lestat #Armand #the vampire armand #lesmand #iwtv armand #IWTV led and #nicolas de lenfent

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receivedhope · 2 months ago

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Burt and Blaine parallels

Dance With Somebody draws a very obvious similarity between Burt and Blaine - mainly, that they both react to Kurt's (at the time) impending leave for NY in the fall by pulling away from him, as if having a dry run for what the next year without Kurt will be like.

This made me curious if there were any other instances where Burt and Blaine share similarities and while I'm unsure how to itemize this list for the easiest understanding, I do want to put forward that a huge chunk of it is moreso speculation and for the main purpose of my own enjoyment lol.

Back to DWS however, since that, I believe, is the biggest example to mention, since it is through having a heart to heart with his dad that Kurt understands where Blaine was coming from.

I believe how one reacts to stressful situations says a lot about them, which makes Burt sharing this kneejerk reaction of avoidance particularly fascinating to me. And as a side note, out of the three of them, I see Kurt being the one most firmly aligned under 'fight' when having a fight or flight response. While Burt can sorta go either way (and I think the lack of any non-Kurt related examples skew the statistics) he's a pretty mellow guy. In Bash he does say "You could've called the cops…you could've gotten help…" but, again, Kurt-related example and I'm of the opinion that Burt would move the Moon and the stars for his son and Kurt being safe is the utmost priority for him. However, it is a recurring character trait of Blaine that he likes to run away, something he says about himself and even dislikes that he does. Blaine is not very perceptive about himself, but this is a flaw even he is aware of.

Burt and Blaine are also just two people who get along really well and I chalk that up to them seeing themselves in each other. A friend of mine has said that Burt and Blaine share the same goals (providing a comfortable life for Kurt and keeping him close) but are not in direct competition, which helps their relationship. And I believe that to be such an apt and great description to illustrate the basis of their mutual like!

I also want to highlight this scene from Glee, Actually - where Burt and Blaine share almost the exact same body language, even when engaging in such mundane activities as watching football. You can see Kurt trying to relate and sit similarly, however he cracks in record time and assumes a much more comfortable position that is inarguably himself - leaning back, crossing his legs to lazily flip through his Vogue magazine. There is no resemblance left with Burt and Blaine after that, however those two keep on mirroring each other (notice them starting to eat popcorn at the very same time).

Something else I also appreciate is that both of them seem to share an understanding that the quickest way to Kurt's heart is giving him gifts. Burt uses an expensive car as a bargaining chip so that Kurt would stop wearing form fitting sweaters that stop at the knee (also note that Kurt does not take this seriously at all, aware of how doting and forgiving Burt is, even though this takes place at the time when the distance between them seemed to be the largest) and has gotten Kurt a Maria bonnet (referenced in Grilled Cheesus) - not to mention that all of Kurt's belongings are supplied financially by Burt. Blaine has gotten Kurt monogrammed towels for his graduation, a Gilmore Girls box set as an apology (which Kurt sends back unopened - cute...) and a whole piano just for Kurt letting him stay in the loft for two days lmao... And based on the box scene, which I believe to be more or less canon since it just ended up on the cutting floor, Blaine also aims to give more thoughtful, sentimental gifts as well.

Kurt is very crow-like, he loves his things and collecting whatever sparks interest. He's also pretty ruthless about what he keeps and needs his stuff to serve a purpose (even if it is just to look good), so I find Burt and Blaine's shared gift giving philosophy pretty endearing. As another side note, while Burt seems to also easily offer Finn football tickets, I'm unsure if Blaine was ever such an enthusiastic gift giver to other people. When he thinks Sam is stealing macaroni because he is poor, he offers him money - much more impersonal and upfront. (Meanwhile Kurt helped Sam out with clothes a few seasons prior.) There is also him making everyone into puppets in Puppet Master and giving it to them, however this is also an unfair comparison - since he is obviously attached to puppet Kurt the most.

I also find myself seeing a bit of similarity between Burt in Laryngitis and Blaine in the break up of Loser Like Me. They can tell when Kurt is unhappy, but have trouble initiating conversation about it so they'd rather pull away entirely and ignore the issue, until Kurt is ready to come out and say what is what. Kurt also easily picks up on other people’s emotions, which is why the accusation in Home/Laryngitis, that Burt deep down does want a son like Finn too, hits the nail on the head and puts Burt on the defensive. I could also imagine that to Burt, this was not a conscious decision or preference and only after Kurt shed a light on it, understood.

Meanwhile in Tested, Blaine doesn't want to open up about what is bothering him. His first reaction when Kurt accidentally sees his porn tab open isn't that of embarrassment, shame or anger, he wants to talk about it. I believe this was done in an attempt to bait Kurt into having a much needed heart to heart. (And just, who leaves the opening page of a porn site out like that? Especially such a secretive person as Blaine, who only ever admits to his secrets on his own accord, rather than having to be caught.)

Burt in Preggers comes to mind as well, how he seems to be more aware of Kurt's (pathetic attempt of) a lie than Kurt thinks he is. Similarly to how in Laryngitis he even says that he is ready to accept Kurt however he may be. I believe Burt is willing to accept Kurt's word as final when it comes to Kurt himself, and does not see it necessary to pick a fight about it.

Burt is reluctant to call Kurt out on anything. Even in Duets, he only brings up his crush on Finn because Kurt might be making the same mistake - but he does not initiate the conversation at large. He even says that he has been meaning to bring it up, since Carole has told him previously - how long has he been sitting on this information?

I think Blaine is a little similar. In DWS, the Chandler plot's cheating aspect seems to be zeroed in on and while I'm of the opinion it is a pretty shitty thing to do, I hesitate to call it cheating, since Kurt is so passive throughout the whole ordeal. However what is more interesting to me is that the argument seems to mostly be Blaine deflecting, to get to avoid Kurt calling him out about avoiding him, so Blaine does not have to actually talk about the relevant issue at hand: his anxiety about Kurt leaving him and the fear of being replaceable in Kurt's life.

In Grilled Cheesus, Burt tells Kurt “Let’s face it Kurt, if we don’t schedule it, we don't hang out. If we don't hang out, then our lives, they just go right by each other” - which made me think of Kurt’s comment in DWS, about the scheduled make out sessions with Blaine. It just makes me think that the necessity for those scheduled sessions was not because it is a chore they drag themselves through, but because the final word is always Kurt’s and he needs to be approached gently and slowly - otherwise he immediately pulls away and closes himself off, see Home with Burt and Sexy with Blaine. Kurt is able to compromise thought, hence the schedule.

This makes sense, with how comfortably Kurt falls into a routine and prefers them, as well as being an insanely reserved and private person who does not open up easily - apparently not only emotionally, physically, but also when he makes time for someone. I think Burt makes a good reference point to how Kurt acts with the people he loves. He is inarguably the most important person in Kurt’s life but even he has to clarify ahead of time when he wants to spend time with Kurt - this really makes me think the necessity of scheduling make outs was not emphasized by Blaine, but by Kurt.

There are also some interesting aspects to Burt's implied change of heart between Wonder-ful and Love, Love, Love, seemingly coming around to Blaine asking for Kurt's hand in marriage. This is another one of Burt and Blaine's shared goal, to keep Kurt tied to Lima in some way. But I also think there is something else there: Burt is a simple guy, recognizing so much of himself in Blaine is comforting and puts his mind at ease. He would rather have someone similar to him anchor Kurt than Kurt potentially throwing himself around, like he does not matter.

"I'm dumb, but I'm not stupid" - while Burt and Blaine may not understand the complexities of Kurt all around, they are the first and biggest two members of the Kurt fanclub.

#glee #meta #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #burt hummel #mymeta

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bronx-bomber87 · 6 months ago

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Hello lovely fandom and happy Wednesday. Wanted to get this review out sooner than the last. Since I was delayed and late last week. With good reason I know but Wed was my original goal. So wanna stick to it for this next one.

Ahhh the 100th ep. Had we had full seasons in 1-3 would’ve been last year. But that is neither here nor there HA. Also it's our ILY ep ❤️ This is a PACKED ep for them. So did my best per usual for gif space. They had wall to wall moments which is amazing but daunting for reviews ha The gif puzzle was a hard one but I got it worked out. Do love a challenge. Anyways let us begin.

6x02 The Hammer

Our couple starts up still icy and tense af. I relate to Tim so much in this first scene. Shocker I know. I’m very much the kind to be like. 'It sucked, I noted it sucked, I was upset and now we’re moving on.' I hate beating a dead horse if I feel the subject has been talked to death. Now that isn't this situation but it is the jist of the scene for Tim at least. Lucy asking if they can talk Tim says yes BUT there’s nothing to talk about. Now, where I am like Tim in wanting the expedience of a situation to be over, I'm not in how he handled the end of the scene above. Just avoiding it completely. I have grown quite a bit due to therapy thankfully.

So this is where he and I differ in this tiff. What he's doing used to be my M.O. Where as now I still want it over quickly but I now I follow it up with how I recognize how I can be better. If I’m in the wrong that is. I ask what I can do moving forward so doesn’t happen again? Asking what I could do next time to make sure they don't feel that way in the future? Or if I’m the wronged party explaining what I need so this doesn’t happen next time. As we know our boy is pre-therapy Tim atm so he does none of those things….Communication as we know not their strong suit.

Lucy wants to talk it out more in detail. Seeing their fight as another bigger fight to come. She isn’t wrong at all. First time I've agreed with her in this prolonged fight. It totally is a pending issue. Lucy tells him just wanting to move on isn’t healthy. Definitely isn't. And he is riled up from the insinuation. Tim just wants to shove it into a box until that issue comes to light again. Which again isn’t the healthiest approach to what she is aiming at. The reality is right or not Lucy hurt him deeply. He clearly isn’t over that and it’s reflected in their convo above. The start to the ep is a fraught one for them.

Lucy meets up with Angela to go over 'The Hammer.' Which she is more than happy to help her out with. What she doesn’t know is she’s about to step in the middle of a lover's quarrel. Which is going to make her even happier tbh. LOL This is one of those 'Angela is the fandom moments.' Where she’s just sitting back and enjoying the show. Her face while she watches the chaos unfold is everything. Look at her above. She is gleeful she lucked into this fight.

Their bickering has reached astronomical married levels. It’s written all over Angela’s face as she watches them argue. With their pot shots, passive aggressive comments, and the fact they’re fighting like she’s not even there anymore. Lastly just the all around husband and wife banter they're displaying for her. The 100th ep delivered in so many ways. This scene is one of them. Our on screen shipper is having the time of her life with this. Not hiding her delight in the least.

She signed on for help then got popcorn and a show to go with it. They don’t even notice her presence till she interjects ‘Let what go?’. They’re so wrapped up in their fight they had forgotten she was there. Angela wouldn’t be Angela without shooting off a snarky reply as they take off. 'Maybe I'll go too. Grab some popcorn on the way for the show.' So bummed couldn't get this one in gif wise. But I’m dying of laughter when Tim says she isn’t funny. Her firing back to 'She’s hysterical. Ask Wesley' LMAO

They arrive at the Hammer's apt and Tim is trying to give Lucy the rundown. Attempting and failing to be clipped and professional with her. But this is Lucy so that was never gonna happen. lol He mentions his real name is Billy Bob Bennett. Lucy touches his arm like she does so naturally and laughs. Asking if that’s really his name? That no wonder he goes by his nickname. Trying to lighten the vibe. Sadly her touch does nothing to soften his annoyance. Tim is still in grumpy mode and didn’t find this funny in the least.

Asking if he can just finish his good news/bad news? Lucy apologizes and say knock yourself out…Not wanting to fight any further on the subject. Tim continues on saying he has a felony warrant. So they could kick down his door if they wanted right now. Which is the good news. Lucy mentions he bought the ring legally though… Which is the bad news. So he has no reason to give them the ring. That he won’t be any more inclined to give it to them when they arrest him.

It’s here we watch Tim hesitate and it’s hilarious. Lucy is watching him with amused eyes wondering why. Has the look of a man who's seen things. haha Tim explains he loves to fight but more importantly he loves to fight cops more than anything. Hence the nickname. It’s the gentle way he pushes her toward his front door after his 'Ladies first.' line LOL I was laughing so hard. She’s smiling even mad she loves this goober of a man. Who says chivalry is dead eh?

When the Hammer opens the door he looks agro af. I love them being in-sync with putting their hands up. Even in a fight they are simpatico in the field. Lucy explains the situation with the ring while hubby nods along. This scene is gold. Hammer mentions the ring was legally bought. This is where she offers him the deal. That if he just gives them the ring they’ll give him a head start. Give him 20 minutes to grab the future misses and go to ground. They won’t start the hunt and call back up till then.

Of course living up to his reputation that’s not enough to get him to bite. He rather fight it out. Want's a fair fight. One on one. They win they get the ring and he gets arrested. Hammer wins he keeps the ring and they arrest him. I remember getting a flash back of the Pilot in this moment. Tim telling her she’s gonna have to fight him lmao Just like last ep the massive different between now and then is he’s in love with Lucy.

She tells him one will care what he looks like tomorrow LOL That she has to be beautiful and in a dress. I mean she isn’t wrong. But also I very much care about what he looks like at that wedding haha Lucy gives him all the heart eyes when he concedes and says ‘Let’s go.’ Even though she can handle herself no way he'd actually make her take this bullet mad or not. Do love her saying 'You got this.' before the fight begins. Ever the supportive wifey.

First off I cannot believe there isn’t a gif set of this fight. (Not that I could fit it in ha but still)There's one of Lucy’s reactions to the fight. But not of the fight itself. Which is a travesty because it’s sexy af on Tim’s part. The song running through the scene is perfection per usual. Second watching this fight makes me cringe at first. Not cause I don’t think it’s amazing. I love it. As stated earlier it's sexy af and impressive. What makes me cringe is having the back issues I have now and Tim having them as well. Hurts to watch for that reason. Hammer wipes floor with him at first. Idk how he isn’t tore up from the floor up after this lol

Lastly I do adore Lucy’s reactions to this. Worried wife mode has been activated. Mad as she is it pains her to not step in. She wants to at first and Tim stops her. Gesturing his hand to not intervene. Couldn’t fit that part in but I adored it. Hammer wanted a fair fight, and being the honorable man he is, Tim will uphold that. He knows Lucy can hold her only with the best of 'em. But Hammer would’ve been pissed had she jumped in to help him. Still I know it was killing her to watch him get tossed around like he did. Tim was NOT winning at first.

Now back to why this fight is sexy. It’s the way Tim holds his own. He gets tossed around like a rag-doll at first. Then learns how the Hammer moves and adapts. If you don’t think him launching himself off that bed and power kicking into his chest isn’t incredibly sexy, we can’t be friends. LOL It's insanely attractive how he took his ass down after that move. Holy hell. Look at those biceps in action. Bulging and sinfully delicious *fans self* I need some ice water. He could put me in a hold like that anytime....Lucy looks so relieved when he gets the ring and Hammer is passed out cold. Her reactions through out were primo though.

Next comes the best part of the scene. Tim staggers over and grabs the ring. Panting and completely out of breath. Damn near ready to pass out. Now this portion of him being on one knee as he hands her the ring. *screams into a pillow* This is foreshadowing at it's finest folks. Alexi wouldn’t have put this in there if he wasn’t gonna cash in on it one day. I truly believe that. The looks they share as well are so damn loaded. Look at the shared looks as he holds up the ring. Oh my lord.

Especially Lucy’s as she accepts the ring and looks down at him. Feeling all the feels we were in the moment. I remember A.H. saying there would be a moment that would launch a thousand gifs. He wasn’t wrong. This was an iconic moment in an episode full of them for our ship. Lucy is riddled with emotion and can barely choke out ‘Good job.’ You know she wants to marry this man. Stubborn streak and all. In that brief moment when he’s staring up at her that hits her. Stuns her a little too honestly. Melissa does a wonderful job conveying all that.

I remember seeing a great set for this. Had him kneeling on one knee from 5x17 when they're in sally port. Then 6x02. The caption read ‘Third time is the charm.’ In my heart of hearts I believe that. Next time he’s on one knee it’s going to be to ask Lucy Chen to marry him. To be his wife. What a beautiful day that’ll be. *dreamy sigh* That being said this moment was meant to be foreshadowing no doubt in my mind. The way the shot was framed and everything screamed that. It is funny to cap it off with Tim passing the hell out after it all haha Along with Lucy’s ‘Oh.’ as he collapses. It's hilarious. Poor Tim.

We move onto the unconventional bachelor/bachelorette parties. Because yes even though our ship is the best part of this ep, there is still a wedding to be had LOL I loved how this was written and shot. How it bounces back and forth between both parties. And how it’s about Chenford for most part not John/Bailey. Cause let’s be real. Ain’t no one watching this ep for their actual wedding. Also loved how this had that amazing rom-com vibe all over it. Made me very happy and I was here for it.

This portion shows us what we already know. They both got issues and aren’t confronting them. Celina’s comments crack me up. She’s new to shipping Chenford but is a shipper none the less. Basically being like you guys are what I’m striving for in my love life. So please work it out haha Tim noting they’re great when she’s not accusing him of made up transgressions. I mean he’s got you there Lucy....

Once again I’m on Tim’s side with this back and forth dialogue. Yes he was deeply traumatized by what happened with Isabel. But she is projecting onto him in this instance. Because she isn’t ready for all that comes with UC/detective. Chastity has a solid reply to Lucy about UC. A mic drop one really. We all know she is actually dreading what might happen now that she has him. Chastity trying to get Lucy to confront she's scared. Breaking News. She doesn't...She throws it back on Tim instead unfortunately.

Said this before just because you are good at something doesn’t mean it’s your destiny. Having to leave him for possible months at a time is shaking her. Also with how dangerous it is. That it increases the fact she could not come home to him. The detective exam makes UC a legit reality. One I don’t think Lucy really thought about because it was a distant future. Now that it’s closer she’s hitting the panic button HARD. Not only that but projecting onto Tim with this fight they’re still in. She’s in massive denial and it’s all over her in this scene.

Lucy breaks off from the party. She is meeting Tim at the station but she’s not sure why. I love how cute Tim is just waiting for her. So pleased with himself for this solution. Looking mighty yummy in his black shirt all wired up. Telling Lucy she can ask him whatever she wants. Just like the last ep he’s desperate to proof he’s on her side. That he’s truly rooting for her. Lucy gets excited asking if she can ask him anything? Tim is confused and says the point was to ask him about detective/UC….

I adore how Lucy instantly throws him off. How she crowds him and flusters him in the process. Saying they should be 'Thorough' as she scoots closer to him. Madam you aren't here to turn him on haha The way she approaches him says otherwise. Look at that man’s reaction. He’s so distracted he almost forgets why he’s wired up. Even after being together awhile she still takes his breath away. Look at the way he inhales sharply when she gets closer. Encroaching on his space.

Makes my shipper heart so damn happy. He’s a little turned on by her descent on him. How she pulls up nice and close. Not only that but scoots in and brackets his leg with her thighs. She knows what she's doing and is very aware that man loves her thighs. Tim is shook in the best way ahha I bet his heart rate spiked on that machine LMAO The way he looks her up and down. Floored by this woman in front of him. Hell of a way to start this scene.

Lucy wants a baseline so she starts with the bug question. Honestly it’s the best way to diffuse the tension before it gets real. Such a cute married moment this portion. Asking if he really releases the bugs she traps for him? Idk what’s cuter. Tim indulging her by taking them out to “Set them free.” Or Lucy asking him to do so while low key knowing he wasn’t LOL Marriage thy name is Chenford. His sigh before he admits he doesn't is so funny. That 'No' is hysterial.

His bemused face while she see's his answer is true is precious. The hilarious way he’s like yeah. I didn’t cause they’re bugs lol This is Grumpy X Sunshine personified for them with this part. I loved getting this look into them outside of work. When they’re just at her place being them. Clearly it's something that's been going on for a long time and I’m dying. Tim pretending to do so cause he loves her.

But he’s still him and isn’t gonna save a bugs life lmao Cause well. Tim. The fact he’s been killing them and lying to spare her feelings. That’s love ya’ll. Deep down she knew haha But needed to get the proof while he was wired up. Amazing. Damnit I love these two sfm. This episode is a treasure trove of goodies. Also just more proof how pure Lucy is. Wouldn’t hurt a fly literally. Pure sunshine this one.

Lucy gets a little more serious. Asks Tim if he loves her? Now it’s subtle and our ship is so good at the subtle goodness. I adore the slight shake of his head first. The way he looks at Lucy before he answers. Like how is this even a question? He feels every part of his being, every action he does, how he's opened up for her screams how much he loves her.

Like of course I love you, Lucy Chen. His heart eyes are off the charts adorable. I love the way he meets her half way. Needing to be closer to her when he says this. Does that deep breath first. Leans in with the biggest in love smile and tells her 'Yes. I love you.' *swoon* I could hear him say that all day.

You know his deep breath before he replies reminds me of 5x08 when he took a leap of faith. Took a deep breath and went for it. The sweet smile when he says he loves her. *squee* Nothing makes more sense to him than being in love with this woman in front of him. It’s written all over his confession and beautiful face. He couldn’t be more in love with her if he tried. Lucy’s knowing smirk is everything below.

I do remember there being a debate if this was first time he said that to her or not. I mean I’m not sure still tbh. Months later and I'm not 100% either way tbh. I mean how she looks at him when she asks him makes it seem like it is. Almost like she's holding her breath waiting for the answer. But then her reaction above is a knowing smile of someone who already knows. Like she's heard it from him before. And is using hearing it to ground herself in this moment.

Needing to hear that reassurance that he loves her. Because the next question is the biggie. But I could totally see this being the first time as well. It's one thing I'm not confident on which is very rare for me with them. Anyways no matter what camp you fall in this scene is fantastic. We got a love struck Tim Bradford telling Lucy he loves her. Nothing better than that you ask me. Not only that but with the biggest in-love grin we could ask for. So either way the scene is a massive win for us. I also can’t hear Tim say he loves her enough. Wanna hear it on a loop.

Makes me squee and simultaneously want to pass out from the glee. Unfortunately the lie detector detects its first lie in him being ok with her going UC. Even Tim is shocked by it. He truly thought he was going to pass that question with flying colors. Lucy isn’t shocked but Tim is. Why? Because the man as I’ve stated before would die rather than not support her. He is floored it's a lie. It does cause some good self reflection from him later at the wedding as we will see.

They sadly arrive to the wedding separately. Tim showing up looking like an absolute snack though. I love this vertical shot. Giving us a glorious look at him dressed to the nines. Tall drink of water I would like a sip of. Hot damn. Chicken or steak? Neither. I’ll take Tim Bradford wearing the hell out of that suit please and thank you. Also we know that man didn’t pick that suit out. Has Lucy written all over it with how they match. I can only imagine them going shopping for it and Tim protesting the entire time haha

Tim is actively seeking his person out as his eyes scan the crowd. Even mad he needs eyes on her. They lock eyes across the courtyard. Lucy looks excited to see him. She takes in how good he looks then remembers she’s mad at him. Doesn’t maintain it long after that sadly. Angsty goodness right there ooof. I’m here for it.

The wedding happens after but I don't really care about that TBH. The looks continue in the afterparty. Tim drinks at the bar and watch's his girl have fun on the dance floor. Lucy’s gaze a little softer this time around as she looks back at him. *sigh* Does crack me up Celina asks Aaron if they'll be ok as she watches them long for each other haha Girl is seriously worried about them. I love it.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE Tim being the one to bridge the gap. He's reaching out to her and is ready to talk this out. He doesn't even acknowledge Luna when he walks up. Only has eyes for his girl. Sorry Luna LOL He can’t be away from her any longer. Tim extending his hand asking her to dance wordlessly. That silent communication of their's in full force. My heart.

I adore how Luna is looking at them when Lucy gets up. Lucy looks back and gets her nod of approval. Like go make up with your man honey. Love Lucy’s smile knowing how Tim coming to her is a huge deal. My god how this man has grown. Makes me happy to no end. The music once again *chef kiss* This song is glorious in it's perfection for this scene. I'll never hear this song the same way again that's for sure. It'll bring me right back to this moment.

From here on out it is all hands hands hands. I saw someone make a tag of *pterodactyl screeching* for this scene. Made me cackle. If that isn’t the fandom in this moment. Eric and Melissa are so good at the little things that make us lose our damn minds. The way he softly takes her hand in his. How she can’t keep hers off him from minute they hit the dance floor. I don’t blame her my hands would be all over him too. I love how they get lost in one another instantly. Looks at those smiles above.

These two couldn't be happier to be near each other. Their time apart has really made that craving to be close increase ten-fold. Despite the lie detector scene they’ve been apart physically since 6x01 if not longer than that. Probably pre-6x01 but post 6 weeks in his office. Haven’t really been affectionate since then either. They’re being drawn back in like a moth to the flame when they're reunited. Like they're coming up for air for the first time in forever. Been trapped in this fight for far too long.

They get so lost in being together again they almost forget they’re still in a fight. I love this so much. The one above has me swooning the most. Look at them. The way she runs her hand down his chest. The smile on his face is everything. Just so happy to have her in his arms again. How Lucy is looking at Tim. phew lord. That is a loaded look. Mixture of sheer happiness and wanting to take him to nearest closest tbh. Seems like such an intimate gaze she's throwing his way.

He's reciprocating with his own fiery intensity. *fans self* Forgetting they are indeed in public. I love how they sway in perfect tandem together. Gah if you wanted to know what utter perfection and chemistry looked like. Go no further than this gif. Look at these stunning humans just exuding their attraction for one other. Beautiful thing to behold. Saying so much with just their incredible physical chemistry. Sweet lord we are so lucky to have Eric and Melissa helming this ship.

Tim is the one to break the silence. Finally admitting after episodes of sheer frustration last year, he isn’t ok with her being UC. That he’s more conflicted than he realized. He truly thought he was ok enough about it. Enough that he could pass a lie detector test. He wouldn’t have done it if he thought it would’ve proved him wrong. In his heart of hearts he thought he was ok adjacent lol

His suppressed feelings for months coming out in his answer. Lucy is very kind in her reply to him. Letting him know it’s understandable. That it was so horrible how could be possibly be over that? I love her fingers climbing up and down his lapel the entire time. Gripping it when she needs it. Almost as if touching him constantly is going to ground her in this moment. Which I think it is. Being near him always been a comfort to her.

I couldn’t be prouder of him if I tried in this portion. Tim growth moments are my fav moments. To not only tell her 'Hey you were right.' but to admit to being wrong. Tim Bradford just admitted to being wrong. Man must be in love baha Tim being even more amazing in growth won’t take the out she's given him.

Stating it’s not fair to her. That he needs to deal with it. He takes it even one step further. Telling her that her dream shouldn’t have anything to do with his issues. What a man. How Lucy doesn’t pull him into the nearest closet/room for make up sex right then and there idk haha Has more will power than I would.

Lucy is touched by his honesty and owning his part in this UC fight. It’s written all over her face when she says ‘Thank you.’ The ‘hands hands hands’ continues and I’m all but squealing. Look at her fingers at back of his neck/head and all over his hair. Her other hand coming up to stroke his bicep too. I’m dying here of cloud 9 happiness.

The way she strokes the back of his head while she’s comforting him. I cannot you guys. It’s so soft and cute. I’m dead. Here lies Caitlin- Cause Chenford was off the charts cute and she imploded. Happily take that death all damn day. The way she tells him they’re gonna get through this. My heart. She truly would’ve gone through ANYTHING for him. Thought they truly could recover from any conflict. Weather any storm as long as they're together.

Look at Tim and the way he's smiling down at her in that second gif. He believes it too because she does. Ugh. Makes what happens in 6x06 hurt all that more. But let’s not think about that too much. I wanna live here for awhile and avoid that until I literally can’t and we’ve reached 6x06 lol I can't get over her fingers in his hair you guys. The way she is sweetly caressing his neck and arm. Some fanfic goodness IRL. My damn heart. I'm not crying you are.

If this scene wasn't amazing enough we reach Lucy's ILY and it's GLORIOUS. The way she searches his face and makes sure he can see it. That it’s splayed all over her face how much she loves him. Her heart eyes on full blast for him. She once again is caressing the back of his neck as she says it too. Then we get the sweet kiss to follow it *heart clutch* I’m weeping at how beautiful this scene is. The writers really did us justice with this moment. Eric and Melissa knocked it out of the park and then some. Always elevating the material given to them in so many ways.

Her hand on his face as they continue to sway in tandem. Her thumb running down his jawline tenderly. The way he’s looking down at Lucy gets me in the feels hard. Like he can’t believe this beautiful woman loves him warts and all. He’s in complete awe of her in this moment. So happy this incredible woman has chosen to love him. The vulnerability he is displaying here is a sight to see. Truly proof of how she obliterated his wall and then some.

The sweet smile he gives her at the end. *squee* He’s ecstatic she loves him despite their issues. Despite his issues. Constantly blown away by the woman in his arms. Lucy returning his expression in kind. Looking up at him like he's the best thing that's ever happened to her. Because well he is. Her loving smile while looking up at him. I'm dying. It's why the man is puddle right now.

Wouldn’t be Tim if he didn’t follow up with a goobery joke though. Because she brings that side out in him like no other. Let us also enjoy how Lucy still can’t keep her hands off his lapel btw. Or him in general really. I can’t stop focusing on the hands and how they’re all over each other. His crack about the lie detector is pretty damn cute. A great way to finally end the tension between them.

It’s the way Lucy laughs and slaps that same hand, with her DOD ring on his chest, that gets me. She loves this ridiculous goober of a man so much. Their physical chemistry is unreal. Never seen any other like it. Tim is beaming down at her. So happy to have made her laugh the way he did. Her laughter is music to his ears. Mine too. If you weren’t grinning ear to ear after that joke you’re dead inside LOL This part is so sweet I’m diabetic.

Aaron sadly ruins the moment with his drunk ass. We immediately see soft, funny, and light Tim disappear instantly. Fierce protector Tim emerges as he pulls Lucy close to him. Never letting his hand leave her waist as he scolds Aaron. Pulling her closer and closer as he does. And uses his other arm to keep Aaron away from Lucy. I love it so much. Once again it’s the little things our captains do so damn well. We eat it up like candy haha

Celina takes off after a call solo. Idk why she would after everything happened with Aaron in 5x22. But Nolan is her T.O. So… Thought we made it a review without a Nolan pot shot didn’t you? Well I snuck one in. #noregrets

Anyways we watch our couple emerge from an unseen area. Smiles for days on Lucy's face. Which we all took as they had make up sex and we’re seeing the afterglow of that heh. It’s where all our minds went and I love it. D is writing a fic based on that. Idk when but I cannot wait for that. *cough* please write it next bestie.*cough*. They all go into cop mode like the BAMFS they all are about Celina. Except Aaron he’s sidelined by Tim for being hammered. Poor sweet Aaron is a struggle bus.

They save Celina and our ship looks amazing as they do it of course. Didn't have room for that great shot of them. Gives me all the feels Lucy showing up to the scene with Tim in his truck. That little things theme continues. Also Tim in his tie and badge showing? Yum. Gimme. To quote ZZ Top ‘ Cause every girl crazy bout a sharp dressed man.’ Mmm. And that concludes the ep Chenford wise.

Phew that was a doozy to write. Their content heavy ones always are I hope did it justice had fun writing it. They beyond delivered with this 100th ep. It’s memorable for so many reasons and we got loads of moments from it. Something did wanna touch on that I didn’t love during their dance. I didn’t love the blame squarely being on just Tim for their fight. Lucy had a hand in it too. Tim deserved an apology too. Other than that its perfect. Now I’m wondering if they’re gonna touch on her mental health stuff more in S7. Because there was a lot of build up to it in this entire season. I’m hoping they do cause they put her through damn ringer this season. Gotta have a pay off or some sort like Tim’s did.

Thank you forever and always to those who read, comment, like and reblog these reviews. They do my heart real good when you do. You are the reason I do them. So thank you. Shall see you all in 6x03 :)

~~~

Side notes- non Chenford

The cold open LOL It’s fantastic. Cop cutie is so funny I love it. Nolan’s reaction is hilarious. Just walks away ahaha while Celina jams out.

Harper telling Lucy to ‘run.’ at the bachelorette party had me rolling. Mekia has great dead pan comedic timing. I adore her for it.

I love Nyla looking out for Celina with Aaron. She’s such a good mentor. Telling her Being Aaron's only support is a slow poison. It's true I've been there.

They all looked amazing for this wedding. We have the most beautiful cast. End to end.

The music at the wedding primo. John Mayer, Young MC and Alicia keys. Solid af. Good job James haha

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morgana-ren · 2 years ago

Note

Go on, indulge us. you know you want to. Astarion kinks?

So, this is an updated list from the one I put out from before the game came out, but I actually stand by a lot of my original assessments, especially with the Ascended ending. You can blatantly see my kinks and biases in here. He seems like a switch-- or maybe a chameleon is more apt-- before he does, but it's difficult to say what he's into before he regains his freedom. He'd been a sexual chameleon for so long-- just doing what he thought the other person wanted-- that it's sort of ambiguous.

However, I don't do sub writing, so he will be the dominant one for all intents and purposes here. These are also very dark so if you're looking for a more sweet, romantic sort of kink, I'm probably not the author for you. So let's begin:

Bloodplay:

He's a vampire, what do you expect? His lover doubles as a permanent juicebox, and he's never happier than when he's partaking in that sweet, sanguine desire. Blood like hot, liquid caramel, sugary sweet and decadent, and it leaves his mouth watering. It's just an instinct at this point. He draws it from you one way or another, sinking his fangs in your neck, the swell of your breast, your inner thigh, running his tongue across your skin until all he can taste is you and your essence. Smearing crimson across every part of you only to lick it back up again. He's a messy eater and likes to play with his food, so plan on showering and washing the sheets or scrubbing the counter or the floor or— well, wherever he takes you quite frequently.

Knifeplay:

No one said his love is painless. He comes to get off on your pain and fear— knowing he has the power and you are at his mercy, only able to plead and beg. He could hurt you so badly if he wanted to. Entranced by the tight swallow that bobs your throat as he holds the edge of the knife to it, praying he keeps his rhythm steady enough not to nick you— or worse. He doesn't need the knife to threaten you; it's simply another tool in his repertoire. You've seen him gut countless creatures with it, and now that crimson-stained blade is pressed against your flesh, just hard enough to dimple. All it would take is a tiny bit more force. You'd best heed his commands and give master whatever he wants because what you don't give willingly, he will take. He's not above reminding you just how sharp his trusty dagger is when you backtalk him. Just enough to have you hissing and sighing his name, tinged with fear and arousal as you exhale it. And this segues into the next one—

Scarification:

Cazador did one hell of a number on Astarion with that knife. Those infernal scars are a part of his being for eternity, and it seems more than his flesh was scarred in the aftermath. However, sometimes cruelty begets cruelty, and now that the knife is in Astarion's hands, he fully intends to wield it. Those marks indicated that he belonged to Cazador, body and soul-- so what better way to mark his property? His scripting is lovely, so don't worry your little head about it; It'll be as pretty as you are. His name will look lovely carved into your back, or perhaps your thigh or-- perhaps both? Perhaps somewhere more obvious, or maybe more scandalous. Anyone fortunate enough to gaze upon you will know to keep their hands off. Anytime he runs his hands over the intricate marks raised across your soft skin, it reminds him that he owns you, and it's never long before he's crawling on top of you to remind you of that.

Brat taming:

He says he wants obedience, and he does— but he also wants to earn the power that encourages that obedience in the form of vulgar displays of it. Quiet pets who never do anything but what he wants are so terribly dull. He wants a little challenge in his darling. A spark of fire to keep things hot. He wants you to rise and rebel against his tyranny only so he can swat you back down to your place on your knees. Go ahead! Deny him what he wants. Backtalk and spit venom at him, wailing to the midnight moon about "You can't make me." He'll gladly show you exactly what he can make you do. He'll bruise your delicate skin, dig claws into yielding flesh, force you to your knees all over again to remind you just who is in charge. It tickles him when you find your strength only to have it taken from you. Try to turn the tides by mouthing off and challenging him. He does so love a challenge, because in any game he plays, he always wins.

Possession:

When he threatened to sequester you away deep in the bowels of his palace far away from the prying eyes of Baldur's Gate, he meant it. You belong to him. You are his to command and abuse— to love as he sees fit. Anyone foolish enough to come between him and his eternal love meets a violent end. Sometimes you need reminding of that. If it means whittling his name into your very marrow, he will do it. He will place a golden collar on your neck to remind you who owns you. If an intangible leash allows you to stray too far, he will use a real one. Be it a ring on your finger, a gilded cage where he locks you away, or a chain linked to his scarlet throne, you will know his adoration extends far beyond obsession. He will look upon you and know that you are his forever more, whether you like it or not.

Choking:

Astarion adores your neck. A soft, sensitive little weak point that fits so easily in the palm of his hand. He can feel your pulse rabbit away as he squeezes it, capturing your breath between his fingers. Only he decides when and if you breathe again, even as your breathless pleas fall on deaf ears. It's multipurpose! Holding you down as he ravages you, cradling your body as he feeds— or perhaps you get a bit mouthy and he has to remind you just how fragile you truly are. Slender fingers flexing and furling until skin turns to a cosmic spattering of vibrant colors in various stages of healing. The sweet hiss of pain as he punctures the bruise. No jewelry he could ever buy you will look as desirable as the purpling shadow of his hand sprawled across your throat, ever present.

#morgana and friends #Dark Astarion #astarion #dark work here #again don't indulge in my stuff if you aren't a little wonked in the head #don't read if you're into sweet tender traditional romance #think of this as a... part one.#there's probably more

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alwaysonthemend · 10 months ago

Text

Author’s Note: Hello my friends. I’ve been having the worst writer's block of my life and I am so so sorry that it’s been so long. This fic has been in my drafts for forever so I decided to finish it up since my brain is all out of new ideas. That being said, I’ve always planned on this being a two-part story so I thought I would leave you all with part 1 for now while I try to get my shit together lol. As always, I hope you enjoy. And if you see any typos… no you didn’t. Also don’t worry I promise that part 2 will have hella smut ;)

Content Warnings: Angst / talk of sex (non graphic - happened in the past) / sadness / feelings of not being good enough / low self esteem / unrequited love (for now) / miscommunication

Word Count: 8k

My Taglist: Here

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

Maybe it's just the excitement of the last show. Maybe it’s nerves or just the tension and energy oozing from everyone as they all prepared for showtime. Maybe it's the fear. Maybe it's the joy of celebration, or maybe it’s the dread of things going wrong. And maybe, if you’re really honest with yourself, it’s the goodbye that stands menacingly on the horizon – like a sentry waiting to capture your heart in his iron first. Maybe it’s none of those things, or maybe it’s a combination of all of them. But it’s worse tonight – that need that you have for him. The one that seems like it’s become a constant storm cloud that hovers oppressively over your heart, no matter how hard you try to push it down. It’s still there – lingering and festering like a wound. You push the feeling away for what feels like the thousandth time. Tonight isn’t the night.

Show nights are hectic, especially a night as important as this one; Dreams in Gold is drawing towards its inevitable ending, and everyone wants these last few shows to finish on a high note – preferably with as few hiccups as possible. There’s only a handful more after tonight – with just a small break for the boys in between, before the last leg kicks off. And your job is simple: make sure the boys look good while doing what they do best.

Josh’s makeup is usually first, as he prefers to be ready to go a lot earlier than the rest of the band. A fact which, as he’s stated numerous times, is due in part to his nerves and anxiety before he takes the stage. His jumpsuits may be his armor, but his makeup is his war paint – equally as important (if not moreso) than his beautiful outfits. He’s jittery as he sits in his chair, leg bouncing and fingers drumming endlessly on his knee.

“Josh,” you mutter as you swipe some gold glitter across his eyelids, “you’ve got to stop moving.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, voice soft as he tries to rest it for the night. “Just nervous.”

“I know.” You tell him, giving his knee an affectionate squeeze. “But you all are going to do great. You always do.” You pull out a tube of mascara and delicately swipe it through his lashes to complete his look. “What is it you always say? ‘Fuck fear’?”

Josh gives you an airy chuckle and a lopsided grin.

“Something like that.”

“Well, try and follow some of your own advice, Oh Wise One.”

He just rolls his eyes playful at you, but the tension eases from his shoulders a tiny bit. Small victories.

There’s comfortable silence for a while as you methodically glue a few rhinestones to his cheek bones.

“And when are you going to follow my advice?”

You quirk your brow at him quizzically, eyes staying focused on his rhinestones as you attempt to make them as symmetrical as possible.

“When are you going to say ‘fuck fear’?” He straightens his posture slightly as you pull away from him, brows pinching together. “The phrase seems…” he waves his hand vaguely towards you. “...particularly apt for your current situation.”

You turn your back to him to place the rhinestone case on the counter. You know exactly what he’s getting at but you’re in no mood to discuss such matters with him. He caught onto you a long time ago – his remarkable ability to pick up on subtle nuances and feelings from everyone around him becoming the bane of your existence for the past few months.

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to admit the truth to him. Once you admit it to yourself, of course.”

“I’m not admitting anything to anyone, Joshua.” You still haven’t turned back to look at him, instead busying yourself with pulling out the items you need for Sam next. “I wish you would just let this go. It’s just a stupid. It’ll go away.”

You both know that you’re lying.

“I highly doubt that, love.” Josh says sweetly, rising from his chair to come and stand next to you. He places his hand on your shoulder and the coldness of his fingers seeps into your skin at the contact – yet the warmth of the gesture isn’t lost on you.

“I know you.” He pauses, grinning a bit. “And trust me when I say I know him… given the whole twin thing, and all that. This isn’t just a passing feeling.”

“Maybe for me it isn’t.” You say, a slight bit of resentment bleeding out in your tone as you pull open a makeup drawer with more force than necessary. “But he’s just so…” You trail off, looking for the right word.

“Aloof?” Josh supplies knowingly, hand dropping from your shoulder to rest at his side.

You nod once at him, eyes dropping to stare at the bottles of foundation that line the counter in front of you.

“That’s his own fear getting in the way. You know how he is: him and emotions don’t get along too well. They haven’t since we were kids. He prefers to lock them all up and throw away the key instead of allowing himself to be vulnerable.”

“He doesn’t owe me anything – especially not vulnerability. We got drunk and fucked each other in a bar bathroom… hardly romantic or vulnerable to begin with.” You bite your lip, the unwanted and all-encompassing hurt from that night rearing its ugly head yet again. “And we both agreed that it was a mistake, and then we moved on. There isn’t anything else to it.”

“Sunflower,” Josh says, the nickname falling from his lips in almost a whisper, “you and I – and him for that matter, know that neither of you have moved on.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what there is to say. You want to believe him, you really do. You want to allow that shriveled up little seedling of hope in your chest to bloom. But you know better. You learned better.

“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question. He knows you don’t.

“I wish I could. But he won’t give me anything to go on. One minute he’s there next to me and he’s flirting and being so sweet… and the next it’s like he’s a million miles away – barely even looking at me.” You sigh, and the weight of it all seems to press down on your shoulders as you slump forward, allowing yourself a moment of weakness with the kind man who stands in front of you. “I just wish he would talk to me. Why won’t he just talk to me?”

You hate the tears that burn behind your eyes and you hate the ache that opens up like a chasm in your chest. You wish you could hate him, too. Lord knows you’ve tried.

“Jake isn’t the best at words. But he’ll try. For you, I know he will.” He offers you a kind smile that soothes your aching heart a little bit. “Go to him. I promise he’ll talk if you’d just give him the opportunity to. He’s too afraid to approach you first.”

You glance at your watch.

“It’s getting close. I still need to do Sammy and Danny.”

Josh hears the unspoken dismissal and he inclines his head to you.

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now. You know I’m only pestering you because I love you and want you to be happy.”

“I love you too, Josh.” You giggle. “Why couldn’t I have just fallen for you instead of your brother? You’re so much easier to talk to.” You lament, giving him a self-deprecating smile.

Josh’s eyes glitter with amusement and he grins at you, the apples of his cheeks growing pink with laughter.

“Oh I wish, sweet Sunflower.” He bows his head, allowing the curls on his forehead to fall slightly. “But alas, my heart belongs to another, anyway. A losing battle it would have been.” He pitches his tone upwards, summoning his most theatrical voice. “My heart burns with undying love for someone else.” He says, raising his arms with an obnoxiously over-the-top flourish.“My soul has been intertwined with another. The call of the universe summoned us tog-”

“Okay, yeah I’m sure.” You interrupt him, shaking your head in laughter at his dramatics. “Give your undying love a kiss for me, would you? In case I leave before you all?”

“Trying to steal him from me?” Josh asks, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes widening in mock surprise for a moment before smiling at you warmly.“Of course I will. But you better not leave before saying goodbye. And that’s an order.”

You give him a salute.

“Yes sir, your majesty.”

And with that, he’s gone – curly head disappearing out the corridor and leaving you with a head swimming with too many thoughts to process.

Your relationship with Jake has been special from the start. From the first moment that you’d met him, you’d been drawn to him – like a moth to a flame. He made you feel alive and excited and terrified all at once. Trading flirtations with him became second nature – you poking fun at his pension for dressing in all black (pointedly referring to him as emo despite how much he denies it), and he always made sure to laugh whenever your naturally clumsy nature caused you to trip or drop something. But there’s never any malice in your little exchanges – your words instead dripping with thinly veiled joy (and perhaps a bit of nerves) as the two of you interact with each other.

Even your nickname comes from Jake. That first day that you had met him, you’d been wearing a dress with sunflowers on it. He’d complemented it – telling you the flowers brought out the color of your eyes. And so maybe you’d worn a pair of sunflower earrings the next time you saw him (though you’d never admit to him that you did it on purpose), and Jake had been quick to point them out before jokingly referring to you as Sunflower. And the name had stuck – a fact which you were infinitely glad of.

Your flirting with Jake continued to escalate as the two of you got to know each other better and it didn’t take long for your crush on him to develop into something more. Jake had carved a space for himself within your heart and no one else could fill it like he could. And before long, those flirty conversations between the two of you snowballed into a drunken, passionate-filled night in a bar bathroom – fueled on by lowered inhibitions and post-show adrenaline. It was fast and hard, but you’d enjoyed yourself thoroughly and hope had unfurled itself in your chest like a flower in the sun. Though it quickly withered and died once the afterglow had died off and Jake had told you plainly that it was an alcohol-fueled mistake.

He’d said sorry, and he looked like he really was. And you’d assured him that there were no hard feelings and that yes, it had in fact been a mistake. Though it was a mistake for different reasons than what he had thought. For him – at least you assumed, the mistake lies in that he allowed himself to become carried away, drunk and tense from a show. For you, though, the mistake is that you fell for him… and in the fact that you now knew what it was like to have him – only for him to be promptly ripped away from you again. Which only made his absence all the worse.

And although you’d both promised to act like it never happened, things changed. He grew distant. Never cold, but the familiarity and ease that had once existed between the two of you had been shattered beyond repair. No more flirty conversations or silly exchanges between the two of you. Instead, awkwardness has taken up residence. Every now and then, that old joviality would slip back into your interactions with him but he quickly catches himself and reels it back in. It’s confusing and hurtful, and you often lose sleep over his constant swinging back and forth. Regret lays heavy in your mind when you think back to that night at the bar, wishing that you’d put a stop to things before it got so far.

You’re snapped from your melodramatic thoughts by Sam boisterously crashing into the room, a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“I’m ready to be bedazzled!” He exclaimed, planting his lanky form into the chair and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you, and the sadness of the moment prior is shoved from your mind as you fall into easy conversation with him.

Danny follows soon after Sam, and in the bustle of getting everything ready, you almost forget about everything. Though the thoughts still remain, brewing in the back of your mind like a thunderstorm just waiting to be unleashed.

The show is spectacular, as is to be expected from your boys. As nervous as they might be beforehand, they never fail to deliver a jaw-dropping performance. You’d watched from the sides, soaking up the energy of the last show and doing your best to not think about the months that you were about to spend without getting to see them at all. Though you all live in Nashville, there’s no reason for you to see any of them outside of work. And even though they’re technically your bosses, they have all quickly wormed their way into your heart, earning themselves the title of ‘friend’ above all else.

The night is turning out to be magical and you’re struck with a sudden surge of courage as you stand there watching them perform– or more specifically, watching him perform.

He’s truly in his element up there on stage, shredding on his guitar like there’s no tomorrow. You always enjoy getting to see this side of Jake, given how reserved he tends to be in his normal day-to-day life. In the time that you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Jake is stoic and reserved around those he doesn’t know – content to sit in the corner and watch; but when he’s around people that he knows and trusts, his humor and kindness shine brighter than anyone else’s you’d ever met. You’d seen before how the fans often referred to Josh and Jake as the sun and moon, affectionately pointing out their subtle differences in personality despite being twins. But you had learned that Jake is by no means any less affectionate and joyful as Josh is, he’s just content to be a little quieter about it – making those times that he is loud all the more special.

Once the show was over, the boys and some of the other crew were planning on going out to celebrate – apparently having booked a private room at a restaurant downtown in which everyone could make a little merry before officially saying goodbye. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Josh and Danny had given you their best puppy dog eyes, and you’d begrudgingly agreed to accompany them.

Which is how you find yourself sitting at a table in the corner, brooding over your earlier conversation with Josh. With the tour being on break for now, you won’t be seeing any of them until it starts up again. And although you’re confident that Josh, Sam, and Danny will probably stay in contact with you here and there, (and maybe ask to get lunch every now and again) you know for a fact that the same can’t be said for Jake. If the past few months were anything to go by, you know that it’s going to be radio silence as soon as tonight is over. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he goes around the room, making conversation with seemingly everyone but you. It hurts, and maybe it’s the liquor that’s coursing through your veins or the months of hurt finally spilling over, but you decide that enough is enough. You’re tired of living on what ifs and maybes. You hear Josh’s voice in your head, clear as a bell: Fuck fear.

With that thought in mind, you down the rest of your drink and stand up, determined to finally speak with Jake about what’s going on between the two of you. He’s across the room, talking with Danny’s drum kit tech. Jake looks effortlessly gorgeous, just as he always does.

As you begin your trek across the room the nerves and adrenaline kick in. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and roll your shoulders back.

He’s right there. All you have to do is ask him if you can speak with him for a moment. You know he’ll agree to – despite everything, Jake is still one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. He’d never intentionally upset you… or anyone for that matter.

Josh had told you that Jake feels the same. Josh knows Jake better than anyone… and you trust Josh. And you trust Jake not to intentionally hurt you. He’s just afraid – just like you are.

His back is to you. Easiest thing in the world to just… touch his arm to get his attention.

Just as you reach your hand out to touch his shoulder, a girl who you’ve never seen before slides up next to him, comfortably easing her arm around his waist. Jake throws his arm over her shoulders and draws her in close and you watch in detached horror as he turns his head to face her and presses a kiss to her cheek.

You draw back as if burned, spinning on your heel with the plan of getting the fuck out of here as fast as you can, hurt and embarrassment washing over you in waves – mingling with each other and making the perfect concoction for a panic attack.

Frantically, your eyes scan the crowd in search of Josh: your one comfort throughout all of this, but you don’t see him. God, where the fuck is he? Of all the times-

“Sunflower?”

It’s Jake’s voice, and you turn to see him, Danny’s tech, and the girl looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright?” Jake asks, dropping his arm from around the girl to turn around more fully.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Your voice comes out breathless and a little frantic, doing a poor job of hiding your impending meltdown.

“Are you sure? You look a little-” Jake starts.

“I was actually just about to leave. Sorry.” You interrupt him, unwilling to spend a moment longer watching someone else have what you want so badly.

“Already?” Danny’s tech asks, and if you were in a better state of mind you’d probably feel guilty for not being able to remember his name. Instead, your mind is focused on the mounting panic rising in your chest, threatening to overtake you as you desperately try to keep your cool.

“I’m a little tired.” You supply vaguely, eyes scanning the crowd again in search of Josh. Still no sign of him.

“Well, I was hoping to introduce you to Lindsey.” Jake says, causing your eyes to cut back to him. He’s smiling, but you can’t decipher the odd look in his eyes.

“Hi.” She says, giving you a kind smile. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

She extends her hand for you to shake and your eyes briefly snap to Jake’s. He looks on edge, like he’s waiting for something. Your approval? You’re not sure.

You shake the girl’s hand.

“Hi. I’m Y/n.”

Lindsey smiles. She’s pretty. Very pretty. She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, just a little bit of mascara and some blush. Her clothes aren’t overly flashy and her eyes seem soft and kind. She’s exactly the type of girl you can imagine Jake going for and the thought makes you want to throw up. But instead, like the adult you are, you plaster a smile on your face to match hers.

“Jake’s told me a little bit about you. He says you’re a great makeup artist.” You know she’s saying that to be nice and to find some ground where you’re comfortable – obviously sensing that you’re on edge and trying to help in any way she can. But you just can’t do this. Not tonight. Not now.

“I’m alright, I guess.” You shrug, and you can feel how forced your smile is but you persist. “It’s really nice to meet you but I really need to get going. Jake?” You turn to him, doing your best to ignore the tears that are beginning to brim in your eyes. “Have you seen Josh? I told him I wouldn’t leave without telling him and his partner goodbye.”

He shakes his head no, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that can only be described as defensive and uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I haven’t. I’ll keep an eye out for him, though.”

“That’s alright. I’ll just shoot him a text later. Congrats on a successful night,” you say, nodding to the tech, Danny, and then to Jake before turning to Lindsey, “and it was really nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run.”

“That’s okay. I hope you have a good night.” She offers, eyes still watching you in concern. Somehow, her kindness makes this whole thing worse.

You turn away from the group and, as if in a dream, you make your way to the exit of the bar.

With no Josh in sight, you pull your phone from your pocket and call an Uber to take you back to the hotel where you’ll pack up your bags for the last time. This time tomorrow, you’ll be in your own bed away from all the madness. You wish the thought gave you more comfort.

//////

Three weeks pass agonizingly slowly. After being on tour for so long, the sudden change in tempo to your normally fast paced life leaves you floating through your days as if in a dream. Where once it seemed as though you barely had time to even sit down and think, now you have too much time to do exactly that. There’s only so many good shows that you missed and there’s only so many useless outings to be had before you find yourself going stir crazy. Distraction-less, your thoughts swirl hopelessly around Jake and your bitter, self-hating disappointment.

You think fondly about the first time you met. You think of your flirting and of the soft moments the two of you shared before it all went to hell. You even think of that damn bar bathroom; you think of the passion and the hope that had bloomed in you that night, and of the crushing disappointment and hurt that soon followed. And inevitably, your thoughts always seem to circle back to that last night, when you finally mustered up the courage to say something, only for the universe to seemingly throw it back in your face with a laugh and a middle finger. And the very worst part of it all had been Lindsey’s obvious kindness and concern towards you, despite having only just met. You hate that you can understand why he chose her.

Those thoughts feel particularly loud tonight as you stare down at an invitation to a group dinner from Josh. He, along with Sam and Danny, had texted you here and there – little things about what was going on in their lives since you last had seen them. But this was the first time that you had been asked to go out with them.

You’re torn. Torn between the desire to see all of your friends again and wanting to avoid having to see Jake (and even worse, Lindsey) if you didn’t absolutely have to. But, deciding to put your big girl pants on, you accepted, texting Josh a simple Sure :)

He responded almost immediately, eagerly letting you know how excited he was to see you.

And here you find yourself, nervously adjusting your top for the millionth time that night as you drive to the bar that Josh had told you about. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but to think about Jake as you had gotten dressed. You feel silly for still allowing yourself to be so hung up on him. You shake your head at yourself, almost in the hopes that the thoughts will slip from your mind at the action. Despite everything, you’re determined to have a good time tonight.

You’ve never been to this bar before, nestled away just a few blocks from Broadway on the East side of Nashville. It’s a nice place, but not so fancy that it comes across as too uptight or uncomfortable. Walking through the doors, you see that there’s a bar off to the right, with a few larger tables scattered across the floor to your left, and some pool tables and a dart board tucked away in the back. It seems laid back and comfortable – just the kind of place the boys like to frequent. Sam and Danny are already at a table, excitedly beckoning you over.

“Sunflower!” Danny calls, standing from his seat and opening his arms wide.

You jog over to him, grinning from ear to ear as you allow him to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you.” He tells you sweetly, squeezing you a little tighter.

“I missed you too, Dan. Especially your hugs.”

“Quit hogging her!” Sam interrupts, gripping your wrists in his long fingers and pulling you from Danny and into himself.

Giggling, you hug him too.

“And I missed you.” You pull away from him, casting your eyes between the two of them. “I missed all of you guys. Speaking of… where’s tweedle dee and tweedle dum?”

The three of you sit, Danny pulling your chair out for you like the gentleman that he is.

“Josh is running late, as usual.” Sam supplies with an eye roll, “And I think Jake and Lindsey should be here soon. He said they were on their way a while ago.”

It feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on you but you keep your expression smooth. Of course he would be bringing Lindsey tonight… Why wouldn’t he?

Unfortunately for you, they do arrive soon, and seeing Jake again feels like a punch in the gut. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans coupled with a white button up, and his signature necklace glitters against his chest. He looks stunning, and Lindsey’s beauty only stands out more in the beautiful sundress that she has on.

“There you two are!” Sammy says loudly, and Jake inclines his head.

“Ladies,” he nods at you and Sam, “and Danny, good to see you.”

Sam scowls as Jake and Danny share a laugh.

“Y/n! It’s good to see you again.” Lindsey says with a smile, taking a seat in the chair directly to your right. You push back the annoyance, reminding yourself that it’s not her fault that Jake doesn’t feel the same towards you.

The table descends into easy conversation, though you find yourself having a difficult time keeping up. You smile and nod at what you hope is the correct times, but your thoughts are a thousand miles away. All you can think about is that night in that damn bar bathroom, and how good it had felt in the moment. You think about that night more often than you’d ever care to admit, but the memory is soured anyway by what followed. You can still see Jake’s face, passive and expressionless, as he shattered your heart in two.

And of course, you think of the last show, when you’d allowed Josh to convince you that Jake felt the same. God, you’ll never forget seeing him lean over to kiss Lindsey’s cheek, her arm wrapped around his waist just like yours had been that night at the bar. You wish, suddenly, that you’d ordered alcohol instead of water.

“Right, Sunflower?”

The question snaps you from your racing thoughts and you look up to see everyone at the table looking at you. Your cheeks flush as you wrack your brains to try and recall what they’d been talking about but you come up empty. You open your mouth to spew some bullshit excuse when you hear the door to the restaurant bust open obnoxiously.

“The party has arrived!” Josh bellows, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the building, and – thankfully, the attention of everyone at your table. You slink down further in your seat, suddenly feeling like you’ve run a marathon.

Josh and his partner take a seat to your left, and their presence instantly soothes you in a way you can hardly explain.

“What the hell are you two always doing that makes you so late to everything?” Sam asks him, taking a sip of his drink and quirking his brow.

“You don’t want to know, brother mine.” Josh says with a lewd grin, causing the entire table to erupt in groans of disgust. You laugh softly and Josh’s partner gives you a wink.

Conversations pick up again amongst everyone, though you mostly only speak to Josh’s partner, the two of you scooting backwards in your chairs to speak around Josh – who’s leaning forward as he tells an animated story about something or other, hands flapping about wildly.

“Does he ever run out of things to say?” You stage whisper at his partner, who guffaws loudly and assures you that no, Josh does not, in fact, ever run out of things to say.

“You should see him when we go to the store!” He tells you, eyes twinkling with affection, “He talks to just about everyone in the fucking Publix. I have to drag him out – for my sake and for theirs.”

“What does he even talk to them about?” You ask through a laugh.

“I don’t know. He talks a lot but says very little, most of the time.”

At that, Josh leans back into his chair and turns his head back and forth between the two of you, eyes narrowed and a mocking frown on his face.

“Are you two talking about me?”

“Never!” You tell him seriously, giving your best poker face.

“Absolutely not. I love you just the way you are, babe.” His partner assures him, and you know that he’s not kidding in the slightest. They’re annoyingly perfect for each other.

Josh looks on in suspicion as you and his partner lock eyes, both fighting to hold back your laughter and Josh raises an eyebrow at the two of you. You just shrug your shoulders and smile, while his partner smiles into his drink – the both of you completely unable to meet Josh’s eyes for fear of breaking out into giggles.

“Sure. Whatever, Very convincing.” Josh mutters, shaking his head and fighting a smile of his own. “Anyways, tell us what you’ve been up to, Sunflower.”

You feel warmth overtake your cheeks as everyone’s eyes turn to you and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as Jake’s gaze finally lands on you as well. For the life of you, you can’t get a read on him – a fact that hurts you beyond measure.

“Oh, not much, to be completely honest.” You tell them, shrugging your shoulders. “Not much to do around here when I’m not dealing with you guys’ craziness.”

“Nothing?” Danny asks in disbelief, “No family or friends you’ve been hanging out with?”

“You guys are the only friends I have here in Nash.” You glance down at your lap. “Just been me, myself, and I.”

Josh, in typical Josh fashion, changes the subject upon noticing your discomfort – and you promptly excuse yourself to the ladies’ room. Rising from your seat, you scamper quickly away from the table.

You splash cold water on your face and smooth down a few fly-away hairs. Gazing in the mirror, you smile at yourself. Even you can see that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You jump as the door to the bathroom opens, eyes widening as you see Lindsey entering. You fight back a frown. She’s the last person you want to see.

“Hey.” She says simply, coming to stand beside you in front of the mirror,

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tell her, and wince at the harshness of your tone. “Thank you for asking though.” You add, softer this time.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She says kindly, giving you a soft smile in the mirror. “I know we don’t really know each other, but… I’m here, if there’s something you want to talk about. I’m good at listening.”

You sigh, heart warming just a little at her obvious kindness and sincerity. You don’t know whether it’s better or worse that she’s a good person – it would be easier to dislike her if she wasn’t. But it’s also easier to accept Jake choosing her over you knowing that she’s a genuine person. Deciding to go out on a limb, you choose your next words carefully – keeping them truthful, but vague.

“Just guy trouble. It’s stupid, really. I don’t know why I’m letting it affect me like this.”

“A breakup?”

“Not necessarily…” You scratch the back of your neck, nerves beginning to show themselves again. “We, um- we slept together. Once. And I really liked him. But he said it was a mistake and we haven’t really spoken since.”

“Did you,” she speaks slowly – delicately, even. “Did you know him well? Before?”

“Yeah. He was always so sweet. Flirty, but not obnoxiously so. I really thought something was there. Something… real.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, looking in the mirror to smooth her own hair down. “And you haven’t spoken to him since?”

“Not in a way that matters. Not about what happened.”

“Maybe you should try.” She says, tilting her head at you. “You never know unless you try.”

You duck your head, fighting the tears that begin to burn behind your eyes.

“He’s with someone else now. And they seem to be happy. I don’t want to cause trouble where it’s not necessary. I just need to…” you trail off for a moment, staring at your reflection hopelessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You love him, then?”

Her question makes you freeze for a moment. Do you love him? You hadn’t really wanted to put a direct name to how you feel about Jake. But standing here, crying over him to the girl he chose over you, you figure you’ve hit rock bottom already anyway.

“Yeah, I do.” Your admission comes out quiet – broken in such a way that you almost don’t even recognize it.

“I’m sorry.” She says, her gaze dropping down onto the counter, staring at the little puddles of water. “I wish I could say something to help, but I know there’s nothing to say. It just fucking sucks, feeling like that.”

You nod, sniffling a little and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“And you know what the worst part of it all is?”

She just shakes her head, allowing you to continue.

“The girl he’s with now… I get it. I totally get why he chose her.” You let out a watery laugh and you see Lindsey’s eyes fill with her own tears as she watches you fall apart. “I would have chosen her, too.”

You blink and suddenly you’re being hugged. You’re stunned for just a moment before you hesitantly wrap your arms around her loosely.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” She says, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders, willing you to meet her gaze. “You’ll find the one. I know you will.”

“Thank you.” You sniffle again and laugh quietly, “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” She says kindly, dropping her hands and smiling. “Sometimes you just need another girl to listen. I love the guys – and they’re more sensitive and understanding than most, but they don’t get stuff like this like we do.”

You nod at her, taking a deep breath to gather yourself.

“Ready to go back out?”

“Yeah.” You say, and you follow behind her as the two of you make your way back out to the table.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur. After your return from the bathroom, you don’t allow your thoughts to prevent you from enjoying time with your friends. They really are all you have and you’ve missed them terribly. You catch eyes with Lindsey every now and again, and she always gives you an encouraging smile as she watches you engage, and little sparks of affection and thankfulness for her warm your chest. It really isn’t her fault.

After you’ve all eaten, and the alcohol begins to take more affect, Sam suddenly rises from his seat and slams his palms against the table (effectively causing all the plates to rattle obnoxiously)

“Daniel!” He says, pointing a finger at poor Danny who looks back at him with wide eyes. “I challenge you to a game of pool right this instant. I’m tired of sitting.”

Danny rolls his eyes playfully and stands, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

“Don’t start something you know you can’t win.” Danny tells him with a grin.

“40 bucks says I beat you.”

The rest of you watch on in amusement as the two bicker all the way over to the pool tables.

“Jake?” Josh asks, turning to his twin, “Wanna play?”

“Fuck ya.” Jake responds, also rising from his place. “Ready to beat your ass.”

“In your dreams, Jakey.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jake says petulantly, brushing past Josh with a deliberate nudge against his shoulder.

You, Josh’s partner, and Lindsey follow the boys over to the tables, laughing at their antics. Everyone is sporting a buzz now and you’re well on your way to getting your own little buzz. You figure you deserve it.

You watch on in amusement as the boys allow themselves to let loose – you love watching them like this. They’re like little kids, giggling and messing with each other as they play pool.

“I haven’t seen them all together like this.” Lindsey tells you from her seat next to you. “They’re like…”

“Children?” You supply, giggling softly. “They’re always like this. Even during a tour.”

The both of you laugh loudly as Josh sinks a ball, exclaiming loudly in triumph before Jake interrupts his celebration to let him know that he hit one of Jake’s into the pocket and not his own. Josh lets out a particularly petulant “Fuck!” and Jake tosses his head back and laughs.

You watch him, completely unable to pull your eyes away from him. He looks… transcendent like that, joy and laughter making his eyes crinkle at the corners in the way that always makes your heart melt. A pang shoots through your chest as memories of when he used to laugh with you like that enter your thoughts unbidden. You shake your head at yourself, tearing your gaze away from him to look at Lindsey – only to find her already looking at you.

You can’t quite read her expression – but there’s puzzlement in her eyes. You look away, unwilling to answer (or even acknowledge) her silent question.

Before long, the boys are far too drunk to be allowed out in public any longer, and Josh’s partner begins making the rounds to let them know that it’s time to go. He’s met with grumblings of disappointment but the boys don’t protest as you all begin to make your way outside.

“Well, Sunflower,” Danny says, smiling widely with flushed cheeks as he looks at you, “I guess we won’t see you again until tour starts again.” He extends his strong arms, waiting to give you a goodbye hug. You fall into him, letting your eyes fall closed as he squeezes you.

“You give the best hugs, Danny.”

“So you keep telling me.” He grins, pulling away as Josh’s partner ducks in to hug you as well.

“Me next!” Sam exclaims loudly, yanking you from his grip to pull you into his lanky arms.

“Bye, Sammy.” You giggle. “Till next time.”

You pull away to see Josh waiting patiently for his turn.

“See you soon, Sunflower.” He says, pulling you flush against him. Just as you go to pull away, he pulls you in tighter and leans in close.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. You blink away the tears that want to fall at his words.

Lastly, Jake stands, hands awkwardly in his pockets as he waits. You’re not sure what to do until he opens his arms for you. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent as it envelopes you.

He leans in close – so close that his lips are almost touching your ear.

“See you later, Sunflower.”

“Bye, Jake.” You say quietly.

He squeezes you tighter, letting the embrace last for just a moment too long.

Pulling away, you catch Lindsey’s eyes, and for the first time tonight, she doesn’t return the smile that you give her.

You trudge your way back to your car, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t gone tonight. And even more, you wish – desperately, that you didn’t have to see him again at all.

Climbing into your car, you allow yourself to put on your sad song playlist and wallow in your misery the entire way home, before collapsing heavily into your bed – the call of sleep pulling you under.

///////

Jake K 1:02 AM

I think we should talk

The text is the very last thing you want to wake up to – especially with the pounding in your head and the feeling of nausea that threatens to overtake you. You hadn’t had much to drink the night before but you have a feeling that it’s not the alcohol making you feel this way. You stare at it for a long while, thoughts racing through your fuzzy brain as you try and figure out how to respond.

You knew you shouldn’t have been honest with Lindsey – no matter how kind she is. Of course she would have caught on after seeing your inability to fix your face when you watch Jake and of course she would tell him what had happened in the bathroom.

And now he’s probably upset with you. Maybe he’s angry that you’ve kept your feelings from him and fucked him in a bar bathroom like it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s going to fire you. Maybe Lindsey wants him to fire you. Your mind races with every worst possible scenario as you shakily type out your response.

You 10:17 AM

Is everything okay?

The speed with which he answers tells you everything that you need to know.

Jake K 10:19 AM

Can you call?

You 10:19 AM

Yes. Whenever you get a chance.

Not a second later, his name lights up across your screen with an incoming call. Heart pounding, you can only stare at it. You haven’t had time to think. To plan out how you’re supposed to just act like everything is okay. With a heavy sigh, you accept that it’s too late for that and you swipe to accept the call.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Y/n.”

Your actual name… hardly a good sign but you will the nerves and fear from your voice the best you can.

“Is everything okay?”

A heavy, pregnant pause. Then finally,

“Lindsey and I talked last night. She um. She knows. About- About us.”

You close your eyes tight, heart hammering.

“Fuck.” The word escapes you with a sigh, tears already beginning to burn in the back of your throat. “I swear I didn’t tell her, Jake. I swear it. I just-”

“I know.” He interrupts. “She explained. I um.”

You can hear him swallow and you can picture what he must look like on the other end – eyebrows pinched, maybe playing with the chain of his necklace like he does when he’s nervous or stressed. You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image from your mind.

“Jake, I’m sorry.”

He sighs – heavy and defeated.

“Don’t apologize. I- I’m sorry that I hurt you like that. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Silence again, both of you just listening to the others breathing.

“I think it might be best if- if maybe you all find someone else for makeup.”

“No.” He starts, the word louder than any of the others that he’s spoken before. “You can't just walk away. You can't leave. ”

“But I think it would be best if I did.”

This time, you can practically hear him trying to come up with something to say in the silence. But you know there isn’t really much else to say.

“You’re our friend.” He finally says, voice just barely above a whisper.

That makes you pause as you think of the others – of Josh and his soft, reassuring smiles. Of his partner and the inside jokes the two of you share. Of Sammy and his ridiculous jokes and of Danny’s hugs. You think of all the other tech people – the ones who had taken you in and treated you like family from the very start. All the people that you’re willingly walking away from... and most of them will never even know why.

It kills you. The ache in your chest is a real, breathing thing as the reality of it all sets in.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, don’t-”

You end the call.

End of Part I

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

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#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka

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extravagantliar · 2 months ago

Note

i dunno if you've given it thought, or even posted about it yet, but... what do you think varric would have nicknamed everyone in the veilguard (perhaps assan and manfred included, inspiration and spoons willing)? O:

hey there! Mary gave them nicknames in the first couple of drafts she gave datv! I also had nicknames ready to go as well! I never published my list for a few reasons, as I wanted to wait, but some of these wont be surprising to you.

neve was slick in the comics, and I agree with this - I also think like she calls rook trouble, he called her trouble at one point and flurries when she changes the weather

harding - mary never gave her one - a la the same vein as Aveline, as he’s spooked by her like a horse, but when she’s not looking she’s also red ( just like Aveline in da2 ).

lucarnis - his first pass nickname was scruffy. which I also liked and I think it pairs well with the other nickname I had loaded for him knowing spite was a thing early. spooky would be the nickname for spite that pairs. I ended up changing my first draft nickname of jekyll and hyde for them - but I still think varric would use those when talking about a pair or calls lucarnis ‘chef’ rather than the fandom second pass of ‘knives’

bellara - mary ended up calling her bangles, which is super cute and super fitting. when her character was dropped I picked up the old name i used for Josephine and called her scribbles for my first playthrough, she has remained scribbles but also gained purple - as sometimes bellara we need to show and not tell.

davrin - had a reused nickname which is hero and is very apt. however it also feels rather shallow, as yes he is, but I would love to have davrin spotlighted with something new. hero for sure stays, but I also think wrangler ( nickname I gave him before datv ) or feathers would have been strong at the end of act 3 considering everything davrin gives, it would be apt for him to carry that name. Assan is squawks and Varric would be unnerved by him but overall friendly

taash - mary nicknamed them smokey and it’s also apt. the one I had loaded before datv was actually sparks or teeth or something to do with the first look we got, then I put that aside and landed on marigold eventually just gold - marigolds flower under the worst conditions and carry on even with the weight. i am still very VERY fond of sparks.

emmrich - was nicknamed bones by mary, which doesn’t surprise me they’re all trek fans and well emm does have that whole plot. i also wildly oscillated from doc to bones several times as trailers dropped and eventually bones was my pick too. doc would be well used along with his title of professor and well - to be annoying - otrano after the first piece of gothic lit ( and the origin of manfred’s name! )

manfred - he never got one! Poor baby! Neve calls him fred, which I adore but I also think varric would call him jaq ( one of the servants in the castle of otrano ) or my favourite rattles.

though at one point we called emm the wizard and manfred the strawman as I had just finished son of a witch and I’m glad I scrapped those two

solas kept his nickname of chuckles from everything I wrote from 2014 to the end of October 2024 and I couldn’t write over it if I wanted to. People dislike it because it’s a reuse. It fits solas better than purple Hawke who could have had something like jester ( as a way to poke at the viscount choice ). Mae and Dorian were Mae and Sparkler. The inquisitor is a couple of things depending on who holds the title and then Bran is Bran. The elves ( Elgy and Ghilly ) were affectionately called problem one & problem two

#.bullshit ( ooc )#Yall: did you have names loaded #Me: :)#Also contenders for will you wear wigs and doc ock were thing one & thing two ; the in laws ; and well & shit #This was so fun and such a joy

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charmandabear · 9 months ago

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Eleven

Summary:

You and Astarion have a little check-in about your preferences.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.1k Tags/Warnings: mentions of many, many different kinks, slightly less than ideal kink negotiation, choking, blood drinking, fingering, rough sex, honestly all the standard stuff at this point

I swear I'm not doing this intentionally, but I'm finally posting chapter 11 when the draft for chapter 12 is up on my Kofi. Eventually I'll get my shit back on schedule.

As always, the professor screenshot is from @zipzoomzaria.

Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist

The sky outside your living room window is streaked with orange and purple from the nearly set sun. Lying on your couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table, you open an incognito tab on your phone. No sense in ruining your algorithm. You search ‘BDSM checklist’ and click on the first result, an extensive PDF that looks relatively promising. You’re trying to not be judgmental, but as you scroll through the list you’re plagued with thoughts ranging from “Wait, that’s a kink? Isn’t that just standard?” to “People are actually into that?” to “Oh. Oh.”

Your eyes scan down the list. There are just so many options that you hadn’t considered.

Bondage – light: yes. Bondage – heavy: maybe? Bondage – all day/multi day: definitely not. Collars – worn in private: absolutely. Collars – worn in public: …maybe?

You picture yourself walking around with Astarion in public with a collar on. Maybe not something so explicit as a dog collar, but like a little choker? Just for you and him? The thought sends a small thrill up your spine. You keep scrolling.

Fetishes: boot worship, cock worship, corsets… sure. Cross dressing? The image of Astarion wearing lacy lingerie and giving you a come hither stare over his glasses brings a light flush to your cheeks.

You open up your text messages and stare at your sparse conversation with him. The picture of His Majesty chewing on The 48 Laws of Power is still prominent, making you smile. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you have no idea what to say. Come over so we can compare kinks? I want to tell you in explicit detail all of the depraved things I want you to do to me? You drop your head back on the couch and stare at your ceiling for a few minutes while you try to sort through your thoughts. Better to be simple and direct, right? After a heavy sigh, you type:

-Do you have plans tonight? Do you want to come over?

You pause before hitting send, suddenly unsure. Why is this the thing giving you anxiety? It’s still hard to be so forthright with him while every instinct screams at you to play it cool. With another huff you clench your jaw and hit send.

You put your phone face down on the couch next to you so you’re not tempted to stare at it. You start to feel antsy without anything for your hands to do and your eyes trace the dents in your worn down popsocket. The seconds stretch on for what feels like hours, and you’re convinced that you’ve said the wrong thing. That he’s changed his mind and decided that you’re not worth the effort after all.

Finally you hear the soft hum of your phone buzz, and you frantically flip it over to read his answer.

-I’d love to. Shall I bring anything? A leash, perhaps?

You giggle and squeal and press your thighs together all at once. You settle back on the couch and tuck your feet beneath you, smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. An apt comparison, honestly.

-Not yet, but maybe one of those fancy expensive wines.

Your heart thrums as your eyes dart around your apartment, making sure it isn’t too messy. You generally keep it fairly tidy, although compared to Astarion’s place yours is downright spotless. The briefest image flashes through your mind of the two of you living together before you internally scold yourself. Absolutely not, it’s way too soon for those thoughts.

Your phone buzzes again, and you look over at it, surprised.

-You’re still my favorite vintage, darling. 🤍🩸

If someone had been around to hear the noise you just made, you would’ve vehemently denied it.

***

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally hear the knock on the door. You quickly check your hair in the mirror before opening it, and there he is, looking as dashing as ever in a lavender button down and forest green trousers. His collar is undone just enough to get a peek of the delicate silver chains resting on his collarbone, and his sleeves are rolled up, showing off his sinewy forearms. You take the bottle from his hand, your fingers lingering on his wrist momentarily, and gesture for him to come inside. You put the wine down on the counter and turn back to him as he slips his hands around your waist, his cool hands resting on the skin of your lower back below your crop top. You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck, gently pressing your lips to his.

“Hi,” you murmur with a shy smile.

“Hi,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. You pull away reluctantly and open the cabinets to take out glasses for wine. Astarion glances down at your socked feet and then over to your shoe rack by the door.

“Oh, erm… would you like me to remove my shoes?” he asks, uncertainty apparent in his voice.

“Oh!” You didn’t consider that he probably hasn’t spent much time in other people’s spaces, and you don’t want to push him outside his comfort zone. “Well, uh… you don’t have to, I guess.” He studies your expression and frowns.

“I feel as though you’d like me to,” he says carefully, and then before you can respond, he walks over to the shoe rack and slips off his shoes, placing them neatly on top of the rack.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and he crosses back to you and kisses your temple. You linger in his scent for a moment longer before turning toward your tablet resting on your kitchen island. You unlock the screen and pull up the checklist you had been perusing earlier, then slide it over to him to look at.

“So in the spirit of, you know, being on the same page about things,” you tell him as you pull out your kitschy pirate-shaped corkscrew, “I wanted to look at a list of like, things to try, and I dunno, talk about it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous about this. You certainly don’t have much experience with being so explicit about your desires, preferring instead to rely on nonverbal communication with partners. Which, in retrospect, might explain more than a few disappointing experiences.

Astarion brushes your hair back from your neck and lightly runs his nose along your ear, eliciting a shiver. “You wouldn’t just rather have a repeat of the evening at the bowling alley?” You lean your head back into him for a moment, savoring his touch, before steeling yourself and pulling away.

“No, we should actually talk about it,” you sigh heavily, barely able to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

“Having a conversation, how novel,” he says with that high-pitched giggle you find so very charming. You pour generous servings of wine and take a long sip before settling yourself onto a barstool.

“So they split it into different categories, and then there are a lot of subcategories,” you explain, trying to be chill about it and only mostly succeeding.

“People can get very specific about their wants, it’s true,” he agrees sagely, and you’re suddenly reminded of his centuries of experience over you. You try not to let that make you feel even more insecure than you already do.

“Right. So um… blindfolds, light bondage, chains.” You make little check marks next to the ones you’re interested in with your tablet pen.

“Collars, I believe you articulated something along those lines,” he smiles at you salaciously, and you take a deep sip of your wine to hide your embarrassment. He places his hand on your lower back reassuringly, and you muster the resolve to continue scanning down the list.

“Various cuffs sound good to me, although I’m not sure if I know what ‘handcuff style’ means,” you say, putting the pen to your lips in thought.

“May I?” he asks, holding out his hands to indicate that he’s asking for permission to demonstrate it on you. You nod and slip off the barstool, and in an instant he has you spun around and your wrists pinned together behind your back. He’s gentle enough, but uses just the right amount of force to make you gasp. “Do you like that?” His voice is low in your ear and your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.

“I, uh… think you can surmise the answer to that,” you tease a little breathlessly, and the puff of air from his chuckle tickles your neck.

“Perhaps, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I want to hear you say it.” He punctuates the sentence by tightening the grip on your hands ever so slightly.

“Then yes, I do.” The words come out a little strained but he deems your answer satisfactory. He releases your wrists and you turn back to him to see him with an incredibly smug grin. You playfully shove his face and return to the list, and he leans over your shoulder to read along with you.

“Thoughts on gags?” he asks, and you think it over for a moment.

“I think probably not, although maybe tape, just none of these other ones. I don’t want to get all drool-y.” You throw him a mischievous glance over your shoulder. “Although on you, I might reconsider.” You stick your knuckle in his mouth and he closes his lips around your finger, sucking on it while keeping his eyes trained on you. He pulls your finger out with a lewd pop and pulls your wrist into his lips, grazing his fangs along your pulse point.

“You’d be hurting yourself more than helping, darling,” he murmurs into your skin, and you bite your lip in an attempt to control your breathing. He uses your momentary distraction to snatch the pen out of your hand. “And I’ll go ahead and put a tick next to ‘leashes’ right here.”

“I thought you wanted to hear me say it,” you needle him back, pressing up against him unnecessarily to retrieve the pen.

“Oh I most certainly would,” he purrs, and you feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You continue scanning down the list, adding checkmarks to some of the things you’ve already done. You reach ‘blood play’ and add a check. Astarion leans down and gives your neck a quick little nip, not enough to break the skin, but enough to make you yelp.

“Fetishes,” you read, tapping the pen to your lips. “You know, I’m definitely into some of these things, corsets, high heels – I might even still have some of the costume pieces from when I was in Venus in Fur that they let me keep.”

Astarion’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Venus in Furs, as in, the Sacher-Masoch book?”

“Based on it, yeah. Venus in Fur, singular, by David Ives.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing some production photos from that,” he teases, running his fingers along the waistband of your skirt.

“Well maybe I should just model the costume for you in person,” you murmur, turning into his chest and tilting your chin upward. He follows your lead, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. Your head grows foggy with lust and you finally push him away. “Focus,” you scold yourself as much as him.

“I am extremely focused right now,” he hums, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Hmm, prove it,” you retort, and tap the pen on your tablet screen. “What are your thoughts, um. On crossdressing.” You’re a little embarrassed to ask, but you continue to barrel through your shame. Jaheira would be proud.

“Would you like that?” His voice remains just as lust-filled and you flush a deep red. “Seeing me in a cute little skirt and thigh high stockings?”

The image in your mind is vivid: Astarion straddling your lap, a miniskirt flaring out from his hips and his cock pressing against you through thin satin panties. You nearly start hyperventilating.

“Uh-huh,” you breathe heavily.

“Duly noted,” he says with a giggle. You blink to focus your eyes back to reality and return to the list.

“Humiliation?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Yeah, me neither. Impact and rough play. Uh…” you scan through the list, putting down a few checks – face slapping, riding crops, spanking. “Oh. Um. Non-monogamy.” You turn to him to gauge his expression. He returns your gaze equally carefully.

“Is that something that interests you?” he asks, his voice neutral.

“Probably not dating… um… but I could consider a threesome, like, with the right person. Unless you’re not into that,” you add quickly, and his lips curl into a smile.

“We can cross that bridge if we come to it,” he replies and plants a kiss in your hair.

“Okay, I like that,” you hum appreciatively. You move onto the next category. “Role play. None of these are of particular interest to me, probably… ugh, schoolroom scenes, I can’t.” You shudder and he lets out a cackle.

“Not interested in a professor/student roleplay?” he asks with a roguish smile. “No looking for extra credit to get your grade up?”

You have another visceral reaction. “Too close to home, no thank you. Although…”

“Reconsidering?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“No! I was just looking… Well, two jump out at me. Uh…” you struggle against your internalized shame and let out a growl of frustration. He takes your face in his hands and forces you to look at him. His cool touch is a soothing balm against the fiery heat in your cheeks.

“Darling, you can tell me. Trust me, I’m sure it isn’t anything I haven’t already heard.” His voice is gentle, but there’s almost a sadness behind it that you can’t place. You take a deep breath and hold onto his hand, keeping it pressed against your cheek.

“Okay. The first one is fear play. Like… I like when you get a little animalistic. Almost a predator/prey kind of thing.” You avoid his gaze despite his insistence, but you power through. “The other one is switching roles. I may have… fantasized… about you being a bit of a needy sub.” You almost swallow your last few words before looking up to his gaze again. His red eyes are completely inscrutable.

“Well, I’m more than happy to hunt you down, love,” he leers at you and your breath catches. Then his expression falters, shifting into something more contemplative. “As for the second…” Your whole body tenses in anticipation of the ‘but.’ “I’d have to think about it. I don’t relish the idea of giving up that much control.”

“Ohmygodsnoit’stotallyfinewedon’thavetotalkaboutiteveragain.” The words pour out of your mouth in a barely coherent jumble. He laughs and pulls your face into his, giving you a tender kiss.

“I said I’d think about it, darling, not that it’s an outright no.” He searches your eyes for any indication of understanding, and you nod. He looks back at the next category on the list. “Sensation play, non-impact,” he reads, and he laughs when his eyes fall on ‘biting/being bitten.’

“Yeah, I guess that one’s pretty obvious,” you say sheepishly, putting a check next to it. He looms over your shoulder and you feel the electricity crackling between the two of you.

“Now, I’d like to ask for a point of clarification,” he considers while pointing at ‘breath control (choking)’ and ‘breath control (mild restriction.)’

“Uh-huh?” you ask, barely trusting yourself to articulate words. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings his hand to your throat hesitantly, a silent question. You give him a shallow but prolonged nod, your breath quickening with excitement. He closes his hand slowly, testing the pressure. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan.

“Mild?” he asks, his voice husky. Your fingers curl and flex on the counter, dropping the tablet pen.

“Yeah,” you squeak out, your blood pounding in your ears. His eyes glint with a devilish fire and a smile slowly creeps onto his lips.

“Good,” he hums, low and dangerous. He studies your face for a moment longer, turning your chin left and right, almost like he’s examining you. Your body trembles, waiting for his next move. He suddenly pulls you up onto your toes, your face close to his, his nails digging into your flesh. You whine, high and loud and undeniably aroused.

He continues with his interrogation. “And how is this? Yes or no, pet.” Under any other circumstances, his voice might be considered gentle.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your voice cracking.

“Yes, what?” he spits through gritted teeth, tightening his hand and tearing another wanton moan from your lips.

“Y-yes daddy,” the word tumbles out of you before you can even think to stop it.

Evidently it was the correct answer because his features split with a feral grin as he snarls, “That’s my good girl,” before crushing your lips into his. You grasp weakly at his hips as he devours you, and you’re more than happy to let him. He slides his hands under your ass and plunks you down on the island. He grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it over your head, pulling your hips in closer to his waist as he continues to ravage your lips.

He snakes his hand into your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to his destruction. “Little love, tell me what you desire,” he growls into your ear, and you clutch your arms around his shoulders.

“You,” you manage to gasp out, “I- ah- I want you. To have your way with me. Destroy me, consume me, take your fill. I want you, Astarion.” You tense up, waiting for his bite, but instead he leaves a trail of sloppy kisses and nips down your chest. He closes his lips around your nipple under your bra, sucking on it through the lace. You run your fingers through his curls and drop your head back with a moan.

Before you can adjust to the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, his lips continue their journey down your stomach and to the waistband of your skirt. He hikes it up to your hips, hooking his fingers into the band of your panties and pulls them down past your knees, discarding them onto the kitchen floor. He hovers his mouth over your slick cunt and shifts his gaze up to you. You can feel his cool breath and you whimper and squirm, aching for any part of him.

“Your hand, love,” he purrs as he reaches out for your wrist, pulling your fingers to your swollen clit. You groan as you make contact, instinctively rubbing little circles to give yourself the relief you crave. He slides his nimble fingers into your cunt and you jerk your hips into him, clenching around him and breathing heavily. He slowly pumps his fingers as you massage your clit, never taking his eyes off you. It’s almost too intense and you want to look away, but you’re transfixed. His lips drift to your inner thigh, his fangs ghosting over your skin.

“Please,” you mewl, and the breath from his laugh tickles your thigh. He straightens up and puts his lips to your ear, his fingers never straying from their tortuous pace.

“You’re going to listen closely to what I’m about to say and you will follow my instructions, understood?” You whimper out a noise of assent, trying to match your fingers to his. “I’m going to bite you, and you’re going to continue touching yourself while I drink. And you’re not going to be stingy with those needy little moans of yours, my sweet, I want to hear and taste you come.”

“Yes sir,” you squeal, and your breath quickly turns into a groan when he sinks his teeth into you. Your fingers slow at the overwhelm of sensation, but when his own fingers speed up as he takes in long greedy pulls of your blood, your need becomes almost unbearable. You clutch at the back of his head with one hand as the other services your clit, and you pant in his ear as he drinks. “Fuck, Astarion, gods, yes,” you gasp the explitives into his hair. Your hips buck into your hand as you bring yourself closer, aided by his fingers dragging against your walls and his tongue lapping at your neck. You quickly grow dizzy with lust and blood loss, your vision clouding you ramp up to the edge. Your fingers tangle into his curls as your whimpers and whines grow high and needy. When you feel the vibration of his own groan against your skin, your orgasm crashes down on you, your cunt and neck both throbbing with pleasure. He rides it out with you, lazily licking your wounds closed.

He pulls away from you and the sight of his lips red with your blood sends another surge through you, and you grab his face and kiss him roughly. He wraps his arms around your waist, the fingers on his left hand still sticky with your cum. You claw at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his cool, smooth chest. Once you’ve rid him of the offending clothing, you break the kiss to catch your breath, sliding your hands over his shoulders and down his arms. He growls with a low appreciation.

“My darling, you taste delectable,” he hums and swipes his thumb across your lips, collecting a drop of your blood and sucking it off lasciviously. You pant and look at him through blurry eyes, your legs still shaking. He pulls you off the counter and your knees buckle as you land, barely able to hold up your weight. “On your knees, my treasure.”

You happily drop to the floor, never taking your eyes off his. He towers over you with a sinister smile and you slide your hands around the back of his thighs, just trying to brace yourself. Your mouth hangs open, hungry for him but waiting for instructions. He cards his hand through your hair, letting it run around your ear and down under your chin.

“So eager for me,” he says in a low voice, and he slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it fervently, keeping your carnal gaze on him, aching to please. His eyes flutter closed briefly and he lets out a long breath. You keen into his thumb, a nonverbal plea for his cock. He yanks his digit back from your mouth and closes his hand around your throat once more, bending over for a heated kiss. When he finally releases you, you’re panting again, the whimpers practically uncontrollable.

He begins to unbuckle his pants and you pull up on your knees, begging like a needy pup. “Little love, is this what you want? My cock shoved down your throat?” He pulls out his erection, engorged and flushed pink with your blood, as you nod with a whine. “Good. Open,” he commands and you dutifully obey, taking him as far into your mouth as you can. You swallow down your gag reflex, keeping your eyes trained on him as his head falls back with a moan. You bob your head on his cock, your nails digging into the back of his thighs. He tangles his hand into your hair and you hold still as he thrusts into your mouth.

“Fuck, Tav,” he hisses and you moan around his cock, spurred on by that jolt of electricity you only get from hearing him say your name. He yanks your hair to pull you off his cock, and he looks at you with wild eyes for a moment before pushing you down onto your back. The kitchen tile is hard and cool against your skin, and you’re all too aware of every knot and point of tension along your back. But your legs fall open for him anyway as he pulls his pants down to his knees and positions himself at your entrance. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, gathering your wetness and spreading it down onto the shaft with his hand.

“Please,” you croak, your hips canting upwards towards him. He lets out a shuddering breath that’s almost a laugh.

“Use your words, love.” His voice is thick with lust, which just sets you off more.

“Please,” you beg with even more desperation, “please fuck me and choke me, Astarion. Please.” You’re almost crying with need at this point, and the noise you make when he finally buries himself into you up to the hilt is utterly obscene. He grabs your throat and digs his fingers into the side of your larynx, just barely restricting your air supply. He pounds into you with long, powerful strokes, and you claw at the kitchen floor to keep yourself from sliding backwards. You let out a strained cry with each thrust, pleasure and sensation overwhelming your body.

“Look at me,” he snarls with a slight squeeze on your throat, and you snap your gaze to him. He looks borderline bestial, his eyes wild with bloodlust, his hair falling over his glasses. His expression alone would have been enough to get another orgasm out of you, but the look paired with the feeling of his controlling and possessive hand around your throat sends you careening off the edge with a cry. A few more broken thrusts of his hips and he’s following, his cock throbbing as he spills into you. He falls forward onto your stomach limply, breathing heavily as you push the curls back off his sweaty forehead.

You reach across your alleyway kitchen and grab a dish towel hanging off your oven door. Astarion slides out of you and you gently wipe your combined spend off his cock. When you look up you catch him staring at you adoringly.

“What?” you shy away as he pulls his pants back up, and he chuckles.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that, is all.” He takes the towel from your hand and returns the favor, wiping down your inner thigh before crawling toward you and planting a featherlight kiss on your lips. A thousand different thoughts run through your head before you resolutely decide to continue the conversation from earlier. You strain your neck up at the kitchen island above you and frown.

“My tablet is so far away,” you pout, reaching upward pathetically. He rolls his eyes and stands to retrieve your tablet and your wine glass, handing them to you as you lean your back against the island cabinets. “My hero,” you croon as he sits down beside you, taking his own glass with him. He takes a long sip while watching you out of the corner of the eye and you pull the list back up.

“Now where were we?” You scoot over towards him and loop your arm through his, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“I believe we got side tracked right around ‘breath control,’” he says as he takes the pen off the side of the tablet and puts checks next to the relevant entries. You shove him with your body and continue your journey down the list. You consider a few more – temperature play, sensory deprivation, teasing…

“Ooh, this one is specific to elves!” you squeal with delight when your eyes land on ‘ear play - elves.’ You quickly nip at his earlobe and he makes a shuddering moan, a somewhat disproportionate response for how relatively tame your action is.

“Ah- yes, I thought you had figured that one out,” he quavers with a laugh, and you suddenly redden.

“Oh. Ohh.” It suddenly dawns on you that the differences between elf and human anatomy are more than just visual. “Is that something you like? That you’re okay with?”

He laughs. “Yes, very much so, just be cautious with it if you don’t want things to come to a sudden, messy end.”

You nod and then add mischievously, “Good to know.” You turn your eyes back to the list. “What the fuck are vampire gloves?” You google the phrase while Astarion scoffs.

“There’s nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there?” he spits, venom apparent in his voice. You look up from your phone, which is displaying pictures of leather gloves with spiked palms.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a little nervous. His vampiric nature has become an integral part of your relationship, but it’s never come up so explicitly.

“It’s nothing,” he exhales heavily. “I’ve just had more than my fair share of lovers who were more interested in my fangs than in me.”

You freeze beside him as he continues to scroll through the list with his finger. You’d like him regardless of whether he’s a vampire or not – in fact, you didn’t even know when you first discovered your attraction to him. But you certainly don’t feel neutral about it, and now you’re worried that you’ve fetishized him.

“Love?” He turns to you, since he must have heard your heart stop. You chew on your lip uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry if I, like, made it weird,” you mutter, your cheeks red hot.

“What? Darling, no,” he hushes you reassuringly. “It’s different when it’s you.”

You wrinkle your nose with incredulity. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like it is.”

“My sweet, you have a stunning pair of tits,” he begins, and the non sequitur makes you bark out a laugh. “What I’m saying is that it’s something that I like about you, but it’s not the only thing I like about you. And I’m sure you’ve met your fair share of people who only saw you as a walking rack.” You smile, but you’re still not fully convinced. Your eyes linger on the right side of his neck, hidden from view but you can see the bite mark with perfect clarity in your mind’s eye. He brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“Darling, I haven’t exactly been subtle about how I feel about your blood,” he says in a smoky voice, and a shiver runs up your spine, “even moreso when you’re aroused. I wouldn’t change that, not for all the moonstones in Evereska.”

You pout for a moment longer while he gazes at you earnestly. “And you promise to tell me if I get weird about it?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your hairline. “Yes, I promise to tell you if you get weird about it.” Your words sound odd in his posh accent, but it gets a smile out of you nonetheless. “Now, I believe the next category is ‘Service and Restricted-slash-Controlled Behavior.’ Well, that’s certainly a mouthful.”

“Funny, you were a mouthful not that long ago,” you say with a licentious grin.

“Hmm, points for clever wordplay, but reduced marks for low hanging fruit. B+.” He glances at you over his glasses and you gawk at him.

“Excuse me, did you just grade my dirty joke?”

“I hold myself to a higher standard, and I expect the same of you,” he says haughtily and you roll your eyes.

“I think it was at least an A-,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Of course you would, professor,” he smirks at you.

“Are you calling me an easy grader?” you gasp, your affront over the top and theatrical.

“No, just easy,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss, to which you respond by biting his lip. You snatch the pen out his hand and look back at the list. One in particular jumps out at you.

“Oh, the dress that you got me, you know, the night you did the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me?” you say, and you can feel him tense up beside you.

“Have I mentioned how sorry I am for that? And also how wonderful and talented and intelligent you are?” His words carry an air of jest but the concern in his eyes is real.

“And funny?” You widen your smile in an attempt to set him at ease.

“Well, let’s not go that far.” He visibly relaxes when it’s clear you’re just teasing.

“Anyway,” you glare at him playfully, “I was going to say that I liked that. I like when you pick out clothes for me.”

“Then I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with a raised eyebrow. Then his voice drops as he breathes, “You truly were a vision in that dress. I’ll have another one made, if it’s to your liking.” You close your eyes contentedly as he nuzzles your ear, and all you can do is nod. You finally clear your throat to shift your attention back to the list.

“Oh, how about chores?” you muse, tossing him a snarky grin. “Do you think you’d want to don a cute little maid’s outfit and clean my apartment?”

“You could sell me on the maid’s outfit, but darling, you’ve seen my home, you know that I’m not one for cleaning.”

Your mind supplies the very unhelpful image of Astarion wearing a French maid outfit and your brain short circuits. Astarion catches you glitching and laughs.

“Someone is very enthusiastic about seeing me in a dress,” he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Shut up, you’re just really cute,” you mumble, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“Serving other Doms, supervised only,” he reads. “Well, as long as I get to watch.” His voice drops salaciously and you stifle a giggle.

“Like the idea of watching me beg for some big strong Dom?” you volley back, trying to keep your cool.

“Darling, I just like watching you beg.” His voice rumbles low in his chest and you shiver. You move onto the next category, sexual activity and penetration, and wordlessly check entries that, for you at least, just feel pretty standard. Astarion takes the pen from you and puts a check next to ‘strap-on-dildos.’ You glance at him with raised eyebrows and he just smirks in response.

Despite the amount of semi-public sex the two of you have had, you don’t give the next category, ‘Voyeurism and Exhibitionism,’ much attention. The final category, ‘Magic in the Bedroom,’ gives you pause.

Astarion scrolls through the list with his finger, musing, “Since neither of us are magic users, I imagine we’d simply go shopping for scrolls together.”

“Hey Astarion,” you say, and he turns his head to you.

“Hmm?”

“The charm person potion. That I found in your trash.” You keep your voice even, and he frowns.

“Ah. Yes. I, erm… I’m still very sorry for that.” His voice is uncharacteristically stilted.

“Why did you do it?” you ask quietly. You’re pretty sure you know the answer, but you still want to hear him say it. He exhales a deep sigh and waits several moments before finally answering.

“I’ve had more than a few close calls with, ah, potential lovers, shall we say.” He stares off into the middle distance and your eyes trace his profile. “I didn’t think you were secretly a Gur, but also, I’d rather not take my chances.”

“And the thing you said about wanting to seem more charismatic?” You put your hand on his knee in an attempt to soothe both him and yourself.

“A lie. Well,” he corrects himself, frowning, “a half-truth. If I could guarantee that you wouldn’t want to ram a stake through my heart, then you finding my otherwise grating personality slightly more charming was merely a bonus.”

You study his face for a moment longer and then take your hand and turn his chin so he’s facing you. “Hey. Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“I was selfish,” he growls, the self-hatred pouring out of him in waves. “I was so focused on my own safety that how you might feel about it didn’t even occur to me.” He clenches his jaw and you put your tablet on the floor and sidle yourself between his legs. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your bare skin flush against his.

“I wish you hadn’t,” you murmur into his ear. “But I understand why you did. I’m certainly no stranger to feeling unsafe on a date. There are other ways to guarantee your safety, but I think you know that now.”

He lets out a shuddering breath followed by a quiet laugh. “I don’t relish you seeing me like this.”

“Too bad, get treasured, idiot,” you giggle and he pulls out of the hug to take your face in his hands and give you a sensual kiss. You melt into his arms, breathing in his scent deeply. “Bed?” you ask, and he nods silently. You stand and help pull him to his feet, leading him into your bedroom.

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