#to comment on current events or really....anything outside of loving their fans

[btsbs]

.

[mostlikelythedevil]

i can't sleep, so i'm going to bless you all with a dream i had the other night ft. the bloodline, kevin owens, and sami zayn.

a friend of mine (unidentified in dream, but i believe female?) and i are backstage at an event. i am wearing a kevin owens shirt, and i have a red bloodline beanie on my belt. fuck if i know what my friend was wearing. but we're looking out of this giant window, and the area we're in is quiet, and the view is just gorgeous - like new york, almost. we're talking about how i've really grown fond of sami in terms of attractiveness (because while he's cute, he's certainly not my typical type).

so who pops up? sami, of course! in a fucking crane. outside of the window. grinning as if he's been blessed by my attraction to him. now, i don't quite remember our conversation (oh, should i mention he casually broke through the window, climbed out of the crane, and just started speaking to us as if it was fucking normal?), but i do remember a little bit of flirting. something like: "well, i'm just very flattered, you're very sweet, oh you're a big fan of kev? i just know he'd love you, etc." he was definitely eating it up with that little grin that he does, you know the one.

eventually, sami invites us to the 'exclusive' area. now, you might be thinking that this is some lounge backstage. you're very, very, extremely wrong. no, you see, sami takes my friend and i to this area with a ring. it's not the ring, but it's a ring backstage surrounded by glass flooring. yes, glass. i know, i know, what a hazard. anyways, sami turns to us, and he tells us to follow him.

he. goes. under. the. ring.

like any normal people, we excitedly and obediently follow! underneath the ring is this giant hole of water, and sami hops right on in. he tells us to trust the current, not to fight it. and he disappears into a void of water. so we follow! because that's normal and sami told us to do it, so it's obviously safe.

this water- it's not really water as much as it is slime. it's not sticky or anything like that, but it's thick and we're not really wet or anything. it's hard to describe, really. the current is strong, but we let it carry us instead of flipping out. we swirl and turn and do all of these sickening movements before we end up at a clearing of sorts, outside of the weird water. it's small; it's only got this ladder leading down into something. so, we go.

at the bottom of the ladder, there's this big room surrounded by the weird water but not consumed by it. in the middle of the room, there's a table large enough to house at least twenty, fitted with chairs. there's a monitor of the actual ring in one of the corners. and there's sami zayn, sitting at one of the chairs with a grin. he welcomes us to the exclusive hangout, and he tells us that he's invited a few friends to join.

sami talks bashfully about his time in the ring, trying to flirt every now and then. i'm sitting beside him, and my friend sits across from me. he doesn't move to touch me or anything, but he's clearly enamoured. blushing and smiling and almost being a schoolboy with his flirtations.

sometime soon after, kevin pops out of the void with this indescribably flirtatious cockiness about him. he's got the smirk, the puffed chest, but he's still acting like kevin, if that makes any sense. and when he sees the shirt i'm wearing? it's over. he thanks sami for inviting him down, commenting that he's thrilled to be around two lovely people. he comes over, says i'm in his chair. weird because there's a million around, but i apologize and stand. he sits down, and without missing a beat, pulls me into his lap with my legs dangling toward sami and my arm thrown around his neck. i'm a blushing mess. sami playfully scolds kevin. kevin says something about me being a fan ("oh come on, she's a fan! isn't that right, sweetheart?" is what i personally like to imagine).

sami is clearly a little jealous at all of the attention i'm giving kevin because he keeps looking over with this little bit of a sad look as he's talking to my friend. meanwhile, kevin and i are talking amongst ourselves very lightly, giggling and being entirely too close together. one of his hands is behind my back, supporting me, and the other is rubbing soothing circles on my thigh. he is 100% a cocky douchebag, definitely giving 2015-16 vibes.

in pops roman reigns. he is uncharacteristically nice - for the time being, thanking sami for letting him know about the guests (friend and i). roman shows a little distaste toward kevin's treatment of me, making some kind of comment under his breath (i like to think it was a simple "what the hell is wrong with you" type of comment). he tells sami that the rest of the bloodline will be along shortly. roman proceeds to engage in conversation with the friend mostly due to the fact that kevin might have well claimed me at this point.

jimmy comes barreling in first, laughing his ass off. jey follows, also laughing. it's something to do with solo, but neither man can calm down enough to spit it out. a few moments pass and solo comes in, absolutely fucking drenched in water. sami comments that that's the reason you shouldn't fight the current. solo tells him to shut the hell up. the twins calm their laughing to snickering. and as everything calms, the other three members of the bloodline seem to notice us (friend and i).

jey comes straight at kevin with the "why the hell she in your lap" type of talk. he sees the bloodline beanie hanging from my belt and tells kevin that he's clearly had his time, now it's time for the bloodline to get to know me. kevin snaps back that i'm perfectly fine with him. i stay silent. i'm not trying to get my ass beat here in the exclusives lounge. sami tells everyone to calm down, that this is supposed to be a nice time for everyone.

in the spirit of keeping things light, kevin sends me out of his lap and across the room to the three other members of the bloodline. jimmy has already taken a seat. jey, though, puts on a nasty smile to piss kevin off and asks very bluntly which member of the bloodline i'd like the honor of sitting on. sami jumps in with how it's inappropriate and i don't have to answer. jey pushes for an answer. solo finds a seat, though he's staring. i eventually mumble out that i most like solo. jey doesn't take it too hard, but he's obviously a little jealous. playfully, though, he makes some comment toward his younger brother ("look at you lil bro, our little sweetheart here likes you" or something mayhaps) and pushes me into his lap. i stumble a bit and end up in a much more compromising position than with kevin; i'm more or less straddling solo.

kevin immediately starts to protest. sami does what he can to calm him, but he's looking much more upset now that i'm with solo. solo and i are just kinda frozen, his hands resting on my lower back/ass area. i awkwardly adjust to sit on him as i had kevin. solo is much less intimate than kevin, but he does lean in my ear and whisper something about being a fan ("so, you a fan of mine, huh, baby?" yesyesyes). i'm blushing. my friend is chatting up jimmy.

jey suggests that we play a verbal game of some kind. we all agree. he immediately turns and asks me and my friend to list everyone in the room off in the order we'd most like to fuck them. again, there is an uproar from sami. but, we eventually agree. my friend lists off roman, jimmy, jey, sami, solo, and then kevin. roman takes a sudden interest in her. i, hiding my face behind a wall of red blush, bashfully call out the order: kevin and solo are tied, jey, sami and roman are tied, and jimmy. jimmy tells me that he and jey should be tied as they're twins. jey laughs and says it's the attitude. sami looks upset. roman looks offended. kevin and solo are staring each other down with murder in their eyes.

and that's all i really remember. it's a lot more than i thought it would be in all honesty.

[maaarijaaa]

Mine❦Sherlock Holmes Part Seven

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock Holmes, the most famous detective in the world. After finishing a case, he decided to visit Enola and his mother. On the first day of the visit he laid his eyes on a beauty, you

Disclaimer: I do NOT allow for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else on this app or other platforms. English is not my first language so let me know if I made any mistakes!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Words count: 1k (sorry for the short chapter)

Warning: Little sad chapter

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for not posting and updating the story often. My tumblr did not work and school took over my schedule, but now I have a lost of free time so I will be posting more often. Thank you for the support🫶🏻🫶🏻💞

It was the day of the event and you were getting ready. Sherlock went home to change into his suit but came back to your mansion.

This would be your first ever public appearance as a couple. You were nervous to say at least but also happy.

You stylists dressed you in the dress you chosen the other day. They styled your hair and did your makeup.

You felt really pretty and confident in that dress.

Sherlock would remind you that you looked like a real life goddess. You would always tell him to stop, even though you wanted him to continue.

You were also really nervous knowing that Mycroft would be there, knowing that he will see you together with Sherlock. Still, you did not care. As long as Sherlock loves you and is there for you then everything would go smoothly.

You saw your father standing outside your room together with no other than Mycroft. You saw him constantly eyeing you. You felt weird but pretended not to care.

“There is my beautiful daughter!”

“Hello to you too, father” You smiled at your father meanwhile giving Mycroft a death stare.

“What's up with that attitude of yours Miss?”

You rolled your eyes at Mycroft's comment. He was being a total jerk but to your father, he was the business partner of his lifetime.

“You look really beautiful honey. You remind me so much of your mother right now.”

Your fathers comment brought tears to your eyes, but you just smiled since you did not want to make him cry.

You and Sherlock held each other's hands and made it to the ballroom where the event was held.

The ballroom was huge and was filled with dads current and former business partners.

Little did you know that Mycroft brought his friend to the event. He was waiting for the perfect time to make his plan go as expected.

While Mycroft was doing that, you and Sherlock danced with the music.

You caught everyone's attention. The most famous detective swayed to the music together with the daughter of the richest man in town. Kinda weird, huh?

After you finished dancing, Sherlock was surrounded by a few people that were his fans. While Sherlock was talking to them about his most recent case with the little girl in Paris, Mycroft pulled you to the side.

“What do you want?!”

“Can't I talk to you for a minute without your stupid attitude?”

“You have a minute, not a second longer!”

Mycroft looked at you before continuing. He was also looking at Sherlock, who was flirting with him. He could see that Sherlock was uncomfortable, but he told her to keep going even though he was backing up.

“I know you love Sherlock.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Nobody knew, so how did he?

“I saw you two at the flower field and I want to prove to you that Sherlock isn’t the right one for you. You deserve so much better than him, Y/N.”

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Mycroft. We both know that you are doing this because you don't like your brother.”

“I would not be saying this if I did not have feelings for you.”

You felt like you were going to faint. That was not true. He was manipulating you into thinking that all of this was true so that he can prove to your father that he was a good person, but he was not. Not to mention that he was against anything that has to do with feminism.

“You are lying.” you said as tears picked up in your eyes.

“I am not. I have been in love with you ever since I laid my eyes on you and I am here to prove to you that my brother is not what you think.”

He looked at you before looking at someone behind you.

You saw Sherlock with another woman. He was hugging her and smiling at her. She could not stop flirting with him.

Sherlock turned around and to his horror, he saw you looking at him with tears in your eyes.

Sherlock began walking towards your direction but you ran away, to your room.

Both Holmes brothers ran after you and began knocking on your door, begging you to open it. But you did not.

You did not open the door at all. You just laid in your bed and let your heart crumble…

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @kaqua @cersei-phoenix-thorn @summersong69 @cynic-spirit @liecastillo  @xlanawriter

Tag list request are closed!

Message me if I forgot you💓

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 4 - Rockstar / Actor / Model / Famous AU

The future is unwritten

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: General Audiences

TW: Drinking/alcohol

AN: Day 4 of @tropetember. This has potential to be the start of a short series. Would anyone be interested in this playing out? (first date, meeting Jack, properly meeting the team, media finding out etc etc)

Life as an famous author can be lonely, but maybe a handsome stranger can turn your day around.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.5k

Staring into a glass of whisky never solved any problems, but at least it passed the time.

When you’d started writing your first book, you never could have imagined how exhausting a promotional tour was. You very rarely had time to yourself, spent weeks at a time on the road and constantly had to be on your best behaviour. Not that you were exactly badly behaved but anything more than a glass of wine or two with dinner had your publicist cutting you off to “protect you image”. No matter how many times you assured her that your audience of young adults would likely not be surprised by an author having a couple of drinks at the bar, until the end of the tour, you were cut off.

You really missed having total control of your life.

And so, like a teenager sneaking out past curfew, you had waited for Denise to go back to her room to bed, before slipping out of your hotel room and down to the bar.

When booking your hotel, the publishing company had been all set to book you into opulent rooms around the country but you had convinced them that that would make you easier to find. Instead, you were booked in a nice hotel with good facilities, the sort of place businessmen would be happy to stay and meet clients for a drink downstairs. Lots of dark wood and leather chairs and large glass windows.

You’d stationed yourself on a comfy stool at the end of the bar, taking advantage of the window to watch the rainy New York street outside. It also allowed you a convenient view of the lobby. The good people watching spot allowed you to notice when a group of well dressed, if slightly rumpled, people wandering in, exhaustion pulling at their features.

One of the men, a tall handsome individual with dark hair and a stern expression, broke off from the group after a quick discussion and headed in your direction. He quickly gained the attention of the server and ran off his order - lots of alcohol and one coffee - before propping himself against the bar next to you.

You took a moment to study him. Up close, you could see the laughter lines in his face and warmth of his chocolate brown eyes. You also clocked the gun on his hip under the very nice suit jacket he was wearing.

“I can hear you thinking” he says, the smooth deep baritone jolting you from you staring. Rather than being ashamed you just smile. Who are you to turn down a chance to chat with a good-looking stranger? It's nice to act like a normal person for a change.

“That coffee you ordered is definitely for you then” you state. That surprises a laugh out of him. It’s a rich, warm sound and you savour it. He doesn’t look like a man who laughs often.

“You would be correct,” he agrees. ”Do you often spend your time staring at strangers?”

You smile at that and concede “only the handsome ones”.

The tips of his ears redden slightly but he manages to control the rest of his micro expressions. In the meantime, you sip at your whiskey.

Desperate to continue the conversation, you observe "I'd normally ask if you were on a trip for business or leisure but I think we've covered that."

He hums in agreement, taking your invitation to continue. "How about you?"

You wave the whisky glass at him. “The trip is for business, this however, is for pleasure.” You give him a cheeky grin and then sigh. “I’m just looking forward to being back home in DC next week. I hate being this close and yet not able to sleep in my own bed.”

“I’m the same. DC seems to be one of those places everyone complains about living there when they’re there, but loves when they can’t make it.”

Working under your assumption that he’s FBI, you presume he must work out of Quantico. What a stroke of luck chatting to someone who won’t be far away when you return home? You take a moment to assess your options and take a leap of faith. He doesn’t seem to know who you are and you’re enjoying the attention.

“Anyone waiting for you back home?”

He smirks at your extremely unsubtle comment, before allowing “just my little boy. He stays with his Aunt when I’m gone.”

Sadly, the bartender has managed to finally round up all of the drinks for his team. He pays quickly and then gives you a contemplative look. He seems to decide you're not a creep or serial killer or whatever else, and reaches into his pocket, withdrawing his card.

“If you’re around tomorrow and want to get a drink? Work permitting obviously.”

You feel a smile break out on your face.

“I’d love to.” You pocket the card before reaching out your hand. ”I’m Y/N.”

“Aaron” he responds with a quick grin, taking your hand and shaking firmly. “Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good evening. Don’t work too hard.”

And with that, he collects his drinks tray which is fully loaded and heads back to his group. You catch a couple of surprised expressions out of the corner of your eye and, as you stand up to head back up to your room, you notice the older gentleman pat him on the back before they all settle into looking through files.

Huh, apparently picking up strangers in bars was a rare occurrence for him. You wouldn't have guessed. He seemed pretty in practice from how he was talking to you.

Now, best sneak back upstairs and get some sleep.

------

It was nearly 3pm, meaning you only had an hour left of book signing. Sadly there had been some sort of arrest made across the street though which had put a bit of a damper on the event, reducing the amount of foot traffic into the store.

From your vantage point, you could see FBI and police personnel wandering around and looking busy and had been reduced to people watching to pass the time. You were startled out of your daze by a familiar voice.

"When our tech analyst demanded I stop by to get a copy of your book autographed for her, I had assumed the name was a coincidence."

You cringe. Oops. Busted.

"Hi Aaron," you say meekly. It's only as you glance up that you see he's smiling that you relax a little.

"Aren't you supposed to be outside tidying up your mess?" You question, taking the book off him with one hand and waving your other at the street.

"I've done most of my work for now. As we're consulting, we are not responsible for tidying up."

You hum in acknowledgement before asking who the book is for and signing the copy with a personalised message. You've never been one to just sign and hand back. These people are supporting you, it's the least you can do.

"No drink tonight then? I assume you'll be back to DC?"

"Sadly."

You both glance at each other, trying to gauge what to do next. You're grateful he takes the plunge.

"We could do something when you're back in DC? I can be pretty busy with work and Jack, my son, is my priority but I can try to fit something in? If you want?"

It's an interesting thing, seeing a calm and confident man like Aaron turn into a rambling mess. You take it as a compliment.

"Of course. I understand having a busy life. One of the benefits to being a writer is setting my own schedule.” You glance around the shop. “When I'm not doing promotion obviously. We can make something work."

You're rewarded with a grin and it makes your heart flutter.

"The main question is, are you sure you want to? I'm not, like, mega famous, but it can be a lot sometimes."

He doesn't even stop to think before he answers.

"I'd regret it if I didn't. And if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. We take a step back. At the very least, I'd like to get know you"

That sentence settles your nerves. You're sure you look like a maniac with the smile that's currently plastered across your phase.

"Can I call you tonight? Since I can't make drinks?"

You nod, but notice there are a few people waiting to meet you. Sigh, best wrap it up for now.

"Of course, I'll text you and we can sort out a time."

He nods, also noticing your fans and, before he can lose his nerve, leans down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You say your goodbyes and he heads back outside with book in hand, apparently impervious to the whispers.

And if your publicist comments that you don't stop smiling for the rest of the day? That's not really any of her business, is it?

[itsclydebitches]

Why did RT make Whitely a jerk when they didn’t do anything with it? In V4, it acts like he manipulated Weiss into getting disinherited when he had nothing to do with the event that caused it. Then he briefly distracted Weiss in V6. That’s it. Just make him a good kid in a shitty home! I would’ve loved to see 1 of Schnee kids come out of their home a nice person. He didn’t do much bad, Weiss and fndm hated him, but now they don’t because the show told us he was good now.

I’m so glad you brought up Whitley’s actions in Volume 4, anon, because this has been a thorn in my side ever since he was “redeemed” in Volume 8. I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve seen railing against Weiss forgiving him, saying that’s absurd when he caused her disinheritance, and I’m like no... no. Whitley didn’t cause anything. Whitley is the younger version of Weiss! AKA, an abused kid struggling to keep his head afloat in this household. 

“But, Clyde, Whitley was such an asshole.” Yes, yes he was. Volume 4 is filled with smirking, sarcastic clapping, knowing looks, and fake concern for Weiss. By the time Jacques disowns her in “Punished” we see why Whitley has been acting this way: 

Weiss: Whitley!

Whitley: Yes, sister?

Weiss: Did you know about this?

Whitley: About what?

Weiss: You never liked Winter. You never liked me. But you've been nothing but supportive since the moment I came back.

Whitley: If being kind to my big sister is some sort of crime, then I suppose I'm guilty.

Weiss: ...You wanted this to happen.

Whitley: It's foolish not to do as Father asks.

Now, I’ll admit I’m personally confused as to what purpose Whitley being kind to Weiss serves, or how that behavior reveals a desire for her to be disowned outside of... a general interest in rubbing it in? Idk. It wouldn’t be the first time RWBY’s dialogue implies a lot of nonsense (cough-birds-cough), but the takeaway is that Whitley just wanted this. He didn’t cause it. He has no control over what Jacques does, he doesn’t have Jacques’ ear despite being the favorite (how many times is Whitley sent from the room across the series, reduced to eavesdropping outside?), and he certainly didn’t manipulate the scene at the party. He might have. That might have been something RT wrote, an arc wherein we see Whitley carefully pulling the household’s strings to put Weiss in increasingly stressful situations until she finally does something to piss Jacques off enough... but he didn’t. A different asshole riled Weiss up with his callous remarks, the party conversation fed that flame, and Jacques’ manhandling set her semblance off. What’s Whitley doing during all this? Smiling. He’s taking pleasure in the fact that Weiss is lowering herself in their Father’s eyes, but that doesn’t make him responsible for these events. 

Just as importantly, him being pleased about these turn of events isn’t evidence of an evil nature, it’s evidence that he’s in survival mode. What do we know about the Schnee family? 1. They’ve all been abused by Jacques. 2. They’re filthy rich. 3. The kids have inherited their Mother’s fighting skills... except for Whitley. Working to please his abuser is the only way Whitley has to keep himself safe. 

He does not have the outs that Winter and Weiss did. He doesn’t have the ability to go off to a huntsmen school like Winter. He doesn’t have that ability and an older sibling to guide him like Weiss. The only thing Whitley has is his (implied) talent for business. Running the company. Which is Jacques’ domain. Of course he’s pleased that Weiss has lost her inheritance. Of course he’s hoped that would happen ever since she left. He’s the youngest and has no other prospects except for the company. Becoming Jacques 2.0, keeping him happy, becoming someone invaluable to him (the obedient heir) is the only way for him to try and survive his own abuse. He all but says it to Weiss in that scene: 

It’s foolish not to do what Father says. 

Why would that be? Why might it be foolish to disobey him? Maybe because Jacques is dangerous - both personally and politically - and Whitley has no other means of defending himself except obedience. It’s all well and good to make grand claims like, “He should just leave!” or “Come on, Whitley, fight back!” but abuse doesn’t work that way. It especially doesn’t work that way when he’s a twiggy 14yo without the magic and physical prowess his sisters possess. When Jacques abuses Winter she leaves to go where her school and general can defend her. When Jacques manhandles Weiss she summons a boar to defend herself. When Jacques abuses and manhandles Whitley he... does nothing. Because there’s nothing for him to do. Nowhere to go to, nothing to summon, no one else to turn to. Working very, very hard to ensure he doesn’t piss Jacques off again is the only defense he has. 

You never liked Winter. You never liked me. But you've been nothing but supportive since the moment I came back.

I wonder why that is, Weiss? Why might Whitley not like you? Willow gives us one answer in the form of “You left him alone with us” but the other, simultaneous answer is because he wasn’t born with the cool abilities that allowed her to escape. Why might he hate his two older sisters who won the magical, genetic lottery and escaped this horrible household without a care for what became of him? I have absolutely no idea. Total mystery! 

Whitley is a character who has built his own defenses out of what’s available to him. If he can’t go to school to escape his Father, he’ll make sure his Father can’t find a single fault with him. If he can’t make his way as a huntsmen, he’ll happily inherit the company when big sister Weiss messes things up. And emotionally he’s constructed pretty lies to comfort himself. You think I want the powers that let you defend yourself against ordinary people (like Father), and make people love you, and open a whole world of options to you? No, no, no, they’re barbaric. Why would I want that? 

Weiss: Are you jealous? Is that it?

Whitley: Whatever do you mean?

Weiss: Is that why you hate me? Are you jealous of my abilities? Of Winter's?

Whitley: Hmm... no, not really. Honestly, I find it barbaric. It's beneath people like me. Like Father. 

It’s a classic case of sour grapes. Since Whitley can never have those powers, he’s convinced himself that he’s never wanted them, that they’re “beneath” someone like him. Like Jacques. Father doesn’t have powers, Whitley doesn’t have powers. How convenient! He has to model himself after someone and, well, everyone else left (with Willow metaphorically gone by hiding in her room, drunk). That’s his only recourse, to become what Jacques wants since he’s unable to escape him. We have seen, on screen, Jacques grabbing Weiss’ arm, dictating her movements (why are you leaving my side?), and outright slapping her. Why doesn’t he do those same things to Whitley? Because Whitley learned how to do everything Jacques wanted to get by, right down to wearing little suits and being critical of the two women who “abandoned” the family. It’s him and Jacques vs. the world. There is no one else, so he becomes a mini Jacques, both for safety and for something he perceives as acceptance. 

And the tragedy is that this snowballs. By modeling himself after Jacques, Whitley crafted a personality that no one wants to look too closely at due to that asshole exterior. Willow is too busy drinking. Winter is gone. Weiss doesn’t like him. Even Klein doesn’t like him! But he’s a teenager, not the corporate slaver enacting the abuse, and the fact that no one in the show - no one in his family - went, “Huh, I should probably help Whitley before he literally becomes Jacques in an effort to survive this household” is horrible. We watched Winter help Weiss, but not Whitley. We watched Klein help Weiss, but not Whitley. We watched Willow outright tell Weiss that he’s like this because he was left alone with his abusers, please don’t forget him... and then she forgot him. Only to turn up later demanding access to the home she’d emotionally rejected by sticking a weapon in his face and sending him to his room. When Whitley reveals what was already there, that he’s not inherently a horrible person by helping Nora, Weiss and the show treats it like some kind of “redemption.” But Whitley didn’t need to redeem himself in any way, with the exception of maybe apologizing for just being a general asshole under very justified circumstances. In reality though, his family owes him an apology for writing him off, taking their own advantages for granted, and then being surprised when he didn’t instantly turn out like them. Everyone remembers what Weiss was like in Volume 1, right? That it took leaving that house, living with new people, and having Ruby Rose as an energetic support system to teach her how to be a better person? Whitley had none of that. It’s amazing he’s currently as empathetic as he is, but the fact that so many (characters and fans) expected more without help speaks a lot to how surface emotions trump actual actions. Meaning, characters like Emerald and Hazel did objectively horrific things, including murdering/helping to murder numerous people, but because they sometimes look sad about it on screen most of the fandom defends them. They are adults who made conscious decisions to enact harm in the world, but looking a little sad made me care about them so something-something they were definitely manipulated into this/ignorant about this behavior/forced into this behavior... take your pick as an excuse. But when it comes to the actual abused child on screen whose greatest crime was a few smug comments, oh no. He’s horrible. I can’t believe the show would have Weiss forgive him. But the woman who orchestrated Penny’s death, helped with the Fall of Beacon, and was trying to murder us yesterday? Nah, she’s cool. 

The fact that the show had Emerald literally do nothing to earn her redemption after seasons of villainous activity, but needed Whitley to save Nora/send ships/provide blueprints to redeem himself after being an abused side character this whole time - and the fandom’s reaction to both - says a lot about how ill-considered RWBY’s writing is. 

[seasonsofeverlark]

$1 Smooches

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Everlark and a Kissing Booth [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: Modern AU. ~1600 words _____________

“That game was rigged!” Katniss seethed.

“Lower your voice, Brainless! Do you want the carnies to curse you? I don’t, I’m standing right next to you!” Johanna hissed, slapping a hand over Katniss’ mouth. 

“I’m sure carnival workers consider that a derogatory term,” Prim sighed, done with her companions silliness.

“Anything is offensive nowadays,” said Johanna, winded, after Katniss shoved her away. 

Katniss scowled, giving another shove for good measure, “Cut it out, Johanna!”

Prim rolled her eyes. “You are aware, this is a charity event benefiting the hospital I work for, right? all booths are operated by volunteering hospital employees, which means the ring-the-bottle game wasn’t rigged,” Prim stared pointedly at her sister, “and nobody is getting cursed!” She glared at Johanna next, “Behave!”

There was nothing Katniss hated more than disappointing her baby sister. “I’m sorry, Prim, we’ll be better,” Katniss glared at her friend, “Right Jo?” 

“Fine! But I demand a greasy, deep fried treat, and a big sugary drink to go with it!” 

“Yay!” Primrose clapped, hooking her slender arms through her sister and friend’s elbows, “Lets have some fun!”

The trio came to a food booth, Prim piped in, “I’ll ordered us a funnel cake and two giant lemonades, you guys go find another game, I don’t mind waiting in line,” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah…and then we can go to the booth my department set up. My favorite nurse in the whole world is manning it!”

Katniss and Johanna walked past the inflatables and the bouncy castle, trying not to bump into families with rambunctious children, and then, they saw a ridiculously loud-excuse-of-an-eyesore-shack painted in pepto pink, decked to the gills with giant red and pink hearts sprouting from every corner of the stand, and a large, white sign crowning the top, announcing: “$1 Smooches”, spelled in blinking light bulbs, with a neon yellow arrow pointing downwards.

“A kissing booth?” Johanna arched her eyebrows, curiously. 

The queue to the booth was very long and to Katniss’ surprise, composed mostly by female patrons. 

“What. Is. that?!” Gasped Johanna, pointing to the booth while fanning herself with her free hand. Without further comment, Jo grabbed Katniss’ hand and marched straight for the kissing booth line.

“What—?”

“Come on Brainless, I have two singles in my wallet and a tube of chapstick ready for the hunk selling kisses!” 

Katniss was momentarily confused, until she saw a muscular man with a boyish, lopsided smile, taking a crisp dollar bill from a very enthusiastic woman; a second later, the man puckered up his pink lips, and leaned forward, just outside the big window of the booth, forearms flexing deliciously against the sleeves of his polo shirt; a wayward curl of his ashy blonde hair fell over his forehead in just the right way.

“Oh!” Katniss gulped, falling into step with her best friend. 

The line advanced impressively fast, for how long it was. In a matter of minutes, which was truly appreciated, since nobody particularly enjoyed being sandwiched between the baking sun and the suffocating blacktop of the lot. The girls were second to next line, but Johanna started sneezing uncontrollably, thanks to the cigarette smoke of a passerby. 

“Ugh! This is a hospital’s parking lot! A no smoke zone!” Jo rasped angrily, “Here!” She shoved a balled up wad of cash into Katniss’ hands, and before her friend could stop her, she went after the smoking a-hole, to rip him a new one. 

Katniss found herself at the front of line very suddenly, and the man beckoned her forward, lopsided grin, so inviting, she stepped up without consciously deciding to.

The man studied her quizzically for a moment, “Hello, there,” he greeted, “Are you an employee at Panem General, or are you a guest? You look familiar,” he said.

“Guest,” Katniss answered, a little too fast. She stepped backwards, rethinking her situation, the woman directly behind her, gave her a weak push forward, to keep her from stepping on her toes. 

The man looked at the ball of cash in Katniss’ hands and smiled brightly. “Would you like to make a donation to Panem General’s pediatric wing? Every dollar counts,” he said softly.

Katniss nodded bashfully, not really understanding his words, too preoccupied with how velvety soft the man’s voice was. She handed him the whole wad, which apparently was $5 in crinkled $1 bills. 

The guy took only one, and placed the rest of the money on the counter, next to Katniss’ hand, before leaning forward to brush his lips against Katniss’. 

There was no telling how long the kiss lasted, but judging by the aggravated buzzing of complaints coming from behind Katniss, it had been long enough to warrant an annoyed calling out.

“Hey! Stop holding up the smooches!” 

Katniss opened her eyes, shifting down to the ball of her feet. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and stretched on the tip of her toes during her kiss. She stared at the guy, who looked slightly dazed as he admired her back; his smile seemed even more crooked than before. 

“Oh my gosh, you found our booth!” Prim cried out, startling Katniss. “Oh, and you met nurse Mellark!” 

“What?!” The crowd behind Katniss grew restless and annoyed by the second. “I haven’t met any nurses—“

Katniss peered back at the booth suspiciously, expecting to see this nurse her sister spoke so much about, but the only person currently in the booth was the kissable blonde man, watching his sister with arched brows and surprise in his deep blue eyes. 

“Hi, Peeta!” Prim waved, the guy in the booth waved back, but the next person in line stood in front of him, blocking his view.

“Wait…” Katniss pulled Prim further out, before the mob of angry women throttled them, “That man is nurse Mellark?” She asked, pointing back as discreetly as she could; the man was looking at them with badly veiled concern, while still trying to do his job, as host of the smooching booth. “You mean to tell me, the handsome man kissing half the fair is the nurse Mellark you’re always gushing about, with the home baked cookies and the cute little drawings for the oncology patients?” Her gray eyes x-rayed her sister.

“Uh, yeah,” Prim sounded a bit too nonchalant. “He’s amazing, let me tell you,” she sort of mumbled, studying her cuticles. 

“Hey! What did I miss?” Johanna came back munching on a box of nachos, swimming in melted cheese. “Oooh! Elephant ear!” She said, snatching the funnel cake Prim was holding awkwardly. 

“Primrose forgot to mention that her most favorite nurse in the whole world is a HE!” Katniss snapped. 

“What?!”

“What’s so wrong about that? Men can be nurses,” Prim shrugged.

“But you didn’t tell me he was a man!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were a sexist pig, Katniss.”

“I am not!” 

Johanna giggled, stuffing her face with fair food. 

“Nurse Mellark is a great care provider who loves children and does his absolute best to bring joy during the worst time of our patients’ lives…What does it matter if he’s a guy? He’s great! What did you expect anyway?” Prim countered defensively, stubbornly.

“I don’t know! An elderly lady, with lots of motherly wisdom or something… I mean, every time you talked about nurse Mellark, you mentioned delicious homemade pastries, and finger paints, and sweet bedtime stories… I never pictured nurse Mellark to be so…”

“Manly,” Johanna finished, looking at the man in the booth, dreamily, finally having caught on. “He’s more of a tall tree trunk I’d like to climb like a koala bear in heat… now where’s my cash, brainless, my lips are ready for some smacking,”

“Johanna!” Katniss growled, but her friend waved her off. A thought occurred to her just then. “Prim…” Katniss whispered into her sister’s ear, “Are you…okay with this?” She said motioning to the 20 or so women in line. “Are you okay with all these people kissing nurse Mellark?” 

Primrose’s lips twitched, “Why wouldn’t I be? This booth was sort of my idea… it was actually more about  Doctor Odair selling the kisses, but nurse Mellark was very good sport, volunteering, ” She rolled her blue eyes. 

“Mmm… I just thought, maybe you had a thing for him?”

“For Peeta?!” Prim said loudly, before laughing hysterically. 

Katniss’ eyes shifted everywhere, and to her chagrin, the man in question— Peeta, apparently— looked up at his name.

“Not so loud!” Katniss hissed, but got interrupted by a booming voice. 

“Ladies, it is time for me to take a break.” Announced nurse Mellark— Peeta— A chorus of disgruntled patrons filled the air, but the man raised his hands placatingly, “Not to worry everyone, my pinch hitter, Doctor Odair, is ready to take over!”

As if by magic, the most attractive man Katniss had ever seen in her life— besides the beautiful male nurse, of course— popped from beside nurse Mellark and a collective swooning sigh rapped over the small crowd. 

Prim laughed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you guys properly. You’re going to love Peeta!”

“Hell no! I’m paying double for the new guy! You gals go ahead,” Johanna called, wolf whistling at the newcomer, waving two dollar bills in the air. 

A moment later, Prim had dragged Katniss to meet her most favorite nurse, secretly crossing her fingers as she made introductions…she thought Peeta and Katniss were perfect for each other, and she wholeheartedly hoped they would kick it off right away, so when she was wrinkly and white haired, she could tell her grand nephews and nieces the story of how their grandma paid a dollar to kiss their grandpa for the very first time. 

[drinkurkombucha]

A list of my fics

Here’ s a list of my past/current fics. I’ll keep this updated as I keep writing. Also, got writing prompts? Throw them in my ask box. I love writing about these idiots, so feed me inspiration. Thanks.

Relinquish: Complete. (A sequel to Catharsis.) After the events of Catharsis, Matty is trying his best to adjust to his new normal. Then his day gets a little... complicated. [ READ HERE ]

******

Living with George: Complete. (The sequel to Talking to George that no one asked for. Stupid humour, angst and lols.) Time has passed since the events of Talking to George. Matty is no longer a struggling musician and things are going great for him (for once). His career is flourishing and things with George couldn’t be better. Life in 36C is almost perfect (bar Hann hogging the bathroom). But when Ross moves back in unexpectedly and talk turns to relationships, Matty realises that he needs more from George. A LOT more. There’s just one problem: George doesn’t seem too keen on the idea… [ READ HERE ]

******

Kairos: Complete. (Complete and utter smut. Gratty.) Matty reminds him of one of those people you spot walking down the street – the kind of people that stand out in a crowd. The kind of people that just glow. Because that’s the thing: well-fucked people glow differently. You can spot them a mile away. They emanate this energy of being so comfortable in their own skin that absolutely nothing can phase them. Ross wants what Matty and George have. Ross wants to glow... [ READ HERE ]

******

Apodyopsis: Complete. (A YNA/YFL short) It's just before Christmas and Matty has the perfect present planned for George. [ READ HERE ]

******

Give Yourself a Try: Complete. (A sequel of sorts to Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction. Complete and utter meta madness in collaboration with @vinylandcoffeecollection.) Matty and George never really saw themselves as consumers of Gatty fic, let alone celebrated covert Gatty writers on Ao3. But they’ve surprised themselves by how much they love writing about themselves (and re-enacting their favourite Gatty scenes in the bedroom, and the studio, and outside… ). The only problem is – nobody seems to be writing anything new for them to roleplay. After Matty has a very sexy, very autosexual dream one night, they decide to take matters into their own hands. How far can they push the boundaries of art and reality without their brains (and their bits) imploding in the process? [ READ HERE ]

******

Catharsis: Complete. (A Dom George short fic) George has a secret and Matty is obsessed. [READ HERE]

******

The Birthday Party Complete. (A smutty oneshot)

In an alternate timeline he is kissing you.

Matty is hiding from the crowds at a surprise party when he meets a stranger called George. [READ HERE]

******

Your Fractured Light: Complete. (Artist Matty returns, part 2 of 2.) It’s been two years since the events of Your New Aesthetic and things have changed for George. Like, really changed. A best-selling author, he’s just signed a three-book deal and he’s riding high on the success of his debut novel. Despite this, George is still struggling. He’s been trying hard to shake off the ghost of his last relationship, but when Matty makes a very unexpected appearance back in his life, George starts to realise that Matthew Healy is not someone you can just forget. [READ HERE]

******

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction: Complete. (Ridiculously meta comedic relief.) When a piece of fanfiction randomly makes it way to Matty, he’s amused and has a laugh with the boys. But he can’t stop thinking about it and gradually he finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with thoughts of ‘Fictional George’ (especially when his cock gets involved in the situation). Starved for new reading material, he finds The 1975 section of a website called Archive of Our Own. Encouraged by the authors there (who have no idea who he really is), Matty starts to post his own writing. But why does someone keep leaving him nasty comments? And what happens when Matty slips up? [READ HERE]

******

Your New Aesthetic: Complete.  (George has a sexual awakening, part 1 of 2.) George lives a sad little life. He gets up, goes to work, comes home and falls asleep alone. Life is shit and he’s barely able to pay the bills to keep his bookshop open. Add to that a fuck ton of writer's block and it’s not surprising that he’s having a bit of an existential crisis. George has resigned himself to the fact that this is as good as it’s going to get when Matty, an eccentric stranger, crashes into his life. And then, just when things seem to be on the up for George, Matty drops a bombshell… [READ HERE]

******

Fixation: Complete. (A smutty one shot.) On a drunken night out, Matty decides to give up smoking. Just as he’s about to crack up, George offers him an effective new way to break the habit... [READ HERE]

******

Talking to George: Complete. (Comedic relief.) Matty is a struggling musician and his life is a chaotic mess. After getting kicked out of a nightmare flat share, he moves back in with his old school friends Ross and Adam and their new housemate – the handsome but mysterious George (who no one ever sees). It isn’t long before Matty starts to develop a bit of an unhealthy obsession… [READ HERE]

******

// MUSIC FOR CARS //: Complete (Gatty through the ages.)  My back was to the door, but I knew it was him. How did I know? My heart immediately began to beat faster and the hair stood up on my arms. Goosebumps spread across my skin. I had never been able to ignore his presence – Matty was always a full-body reaction. [READ HERE]

[honeyed-beans]

hey I’ve never listened to TAZ, but lately I’ve gotten an insane urge to do so... is it ok if I start with this new one? Do I need the context of all others?

Is Travis a really bad DM???

Hi!

(I’m so sorry this answer came out very long because I went on a Graduation analysis so if it’s too much than scroll to the bottom!)

To start with the first q. You can absolutely start on Ethersea first if you want! The fun part about TAZ is that it’s a anthology series. And the McElroy don’t tend to spoil or make large connections to other campaigns. At most they might reference a character name as a joke, but they don’t tend to dwell on it. It’s only vague references at best. So I would always suggest picking up whichever season speaks the most to you aesthetics wise, and/or whichever one is currently running, cause tbh it’s always nice to see real-time reactions from fans if you want to be in fandom spaces. AHS rules essentially.

For example, I’ve really gotten into Taz this past year, but I have never finished TAZ Amnesty so it’s definitely dealers choice.

Taz Ethersea is kind of a unique scenario because they’re doing a new game system. So the first couple of episodes are just world building and explaining the new system. It gives you time to decide if you want to listen to it now or not, because despite the first ep coming out today, the real game doesn’t start for another 3 weeks or so. Dw you’re not missing much right now.

The brief, no spoilers, descriptions of each campaign:

- Balance = A comedic globetrotting adventure story, with modern elements on a fantasy world. Techno music, very tongue in cheek. It’s the longest one, so storywise it’s a bit of a slow burn as the McElroys find their style. But because of its length it gives more time for the characters to breathe and thus it’s sorta the iconic golden child of TAZ. Most people would rec this one but I know the commitment can be kinda big if your not feeling it. So if another season takes your fancy more than go for that one instead.

- Amnesty = small-town americana, cryptids, sorta scooby doo / monster of the week vibe. Very eerie southern music.

- Commitment (superheroes) / Dust (what if Halloween town had cowboys in it) = these I wouldn’t suggest for a first time listen because they were experimental short stories. With 4 episodes each. None are DMed by Griffin. But very fun in their own right.

- Graduation = Comedic, intrigue, fantasy, takes place in one location (a university), plays on the themes of growing up. Very soft, lighthearted, calming soundtrack with a lot of slow notes. This one is Travis as the DM.

- Ethersea = we don’t know anything about it yet. Post-apocalypse underwater season. Very dreamy water inspired music?

Ok so q2: Is Graduation Bad and is Travis a Bad DM?

Short answer? This campaign was polarising. There are some real critiques to be made on Travis’s style. But I think some aspects of critique have been blown out of proportion. In essence he wasn’t fully prepared to helm a show with a really demanding fan base that had high expectations. But I think Grad was good actually!

Longer answer:

Some people bring up stuff about his disabilities or how he acted outside of the show. I’m just viewing it from a objective stance of someone who listened to the episodes as they came out.

Trav has a tendency to have a lot of ideas he wants to show off and unfortunately tended to jump around a lot. So plot points that I personally may have wanted more time to explore got introduced and dropped a lot. Made worst by the fact that it’s a short season. If there’s not a lot of time to explore everything than weaker pacing becomes more evident. Moreover he wasn’t Griffin, and some people think Griffin can do no wrong and there is certainly favouritism for some fans.

BUT I loved it!! Definitely my favourite! It had a really engaging setting I was all over. And it had the strongest main cast out of all of them. Each main character had a good plot, with good progression, and most importantly they spent time developing a bind with eachother. Something that some of the campaigns don’t spend much time doing. They were a trio for a reason, not because events forced them to be. And it sucks that people are dismissing Grad so much because of it!

People got so upset it wasn’t living up to their expectations of Balance that they got hostile which made Grad likers hostile in return. On Twitter every post from the official page had comments begging them to end Grad immediately because it was shit and we deserved better?? So they tried to end it quickly to please these yelling fans and that only made a ending with more plot holes, and thus more complaining. There was a episode where Trav made a joke that a character handed them a chalice full of liquidised drugs at a party, and than the main cast decided to drink it. And the tag was just filled with people saying that Travis was encouraging drug taking to kids?????

At the end of the day Grad was still a fun comedy dnd podcast with lovable characters 🥰 I would suggest listening to it if it’s your cup of tea. As long as your aware that Trav is clumsier with pacing than Griff than you’re in for a pretty wild and very very ‘fun with little consequence’ campaign! Ironically most of these problems would be fixed if Graduation had more episodes lmao.

Tldr: Pick whichever one you like! TAZ is a anthology that doesn’t run into eachother so follow your heart! Technically Ethersea hasn’t started yet. I love Graduation a lot but Travis struggles to keep all his balls in the air so if that will annoy you a lot than I would understand leaving it for now. But I don’t think it’s as bad as some people make it out to be.

This was probably a lot of info to drop on you but if you want to clarify anything, or just chat don’t hesitate to send me a dm! TAZ is super fun and a nice way to occupy your time while your doing other tasks. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

[etoileholland]

I’m not half the man I used to be

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Warnings: alcohol and drinking, a wee bit of angst with a fluffy ending 

Word count: 4.4k 

Summary: in the span of two years, you and Tom went from being inseparable, to him being someone you heavily detested. What happens when one drunken night rolls around and he wants to reconcile? 

A/N: this is a piece that I wrote for @spider-pxrkers​ writing challenge, which is the first ever one I’ve participated in! The flashbacks are in « » and the writing prompt I used, which is “say something, please, say anything” is bolded and italicised.

(gif not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)

—

“Listen, I know I haven’t been the best, b-but I need you. More than ever.” He slurred into the phone, while you just sighed on the other end.

Tom was right in the middle of going through his very public heartbreak, which ultimately resulted in him frequenting a lot of pubs. He usually went alone, but the paparazzi photos proved that someone always had to come and rescue him. His usual saviour was Harrison, but tonight it would be you who would be called to save him.

He was right though, he hadn’t been the best to you. You two had a long history, and it was quite messy.

Two years had passed since you’ve spoken to him, and you knew he was only calling you because he needed the attention.

Two years prior to hating Tom, you were in love with him. You remember the fallout, all too well.

« You and Tom had spent the whole day together at his trailer, on his day off from filming. You were cuddled up watching a movie together, your chest touching his back, his arm around your waist. 

You two were more than friends, but when the public asked about the both of you, he always shrugged it off as a friendship. You both knew that he wasn’t exactly telling the truth, but it was for the best so that you could still keep some anonymity.  

As the both of you lay there perfectly content, he heard a knocking at his trailer door. He didn’t bother to get up, ignoring whoever was on the other side of the door. 

“It’s probably just Harrison, he’ll get the hint soon enough.” He remarked. 

The knocks on the door became a bit more frequent and urgent. You looked up at Tom, wondering if he was gonna do something. Before you could say anything, a voice from outside said, “Tommy, are you there?” 

It was a voice you had recognized instantly; it was of his costar, who was acting alongside him in the film.

“Baby, it’s cold out here, please let me in.” She said. 

“Baby?” You asked, watching his face contort into a frown. He ignored your comment, quickly untangling himself from you as he went to open the door. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You sat there, confused, the shock written all over your face. 

Sure, she and Tom were friends, and you knew they were close, but he didn’t let you in on a pertinent piece of information--that they were actually dating. It was something that you had suspected, but he always seemed to reassure you that he was yours and yours only. Now, you realised that was untrue. 

As they pulled away from their long kiss, Tom turned around to look at you. He looked guilty, but she stood there with a slight smirk on her face. 

“Tommy, I’m guessing you didn’t break the news to her that we were dating.” She cooed, as she wrapped her arm around his. 

“I guess not.” He said in a hushed voice. 

“Right, well I gotta go.” You jumped up from the couch, as you scrambled to find your phone so you could bolt out of there. 

“Wait, I can explain.” Tom pleaded, but you stormed past the both of them and swiftly walked away from the trailer. 

“Hold on one second.” He told his girlfriend, leaving her alone in his trailer so he could follow after you. 

It was pitch black outside, and if it weren’t for your white sneakers he wouldn’t have been able to see you at all. He ran in an effort to catch up with you, the cold wind cutting right through him. It nipped at his cheeks, and he quickly regretted not grabbing a jacket before heading out. 

“Will you please let me explain?” He asked, trailing you. You sped up and nearly began to sprint when you felt a tug on your wrist. The jolt stopped you in your tracks, leaving you no choice but to confront Tom. 

“What is there to explain, huh? The fact that you’ve been leading me on and then decide to date someone else behind my back? I mean c’mon, that hurts.” 

He stood there, silent, unsure of what to say. You were right though, once it was said out loud, it did seem pretty hurtful. 

“Well what was I supposed to do? All this time I’ve been trying to protect your identity, which is what you wanted after all. I like her, and I can actually go public with her and it won’t matter.”

“Bastard.” You said through clenched teeth. 

“That wasn’t the way I meant to word it.” He exhaled, watching the way his cold breath swirled around the night air. “That was uncalled for. I should’ve told you that I was dating her, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.” He admitted, as he looked over at you. You let out a sigh, the air behind exhaled from your lungs visible against the night sky. You didn’t say anything, and he knew you well enough to know that meant you wanted an explanation after all. 

“I should’ve told you that I was with her, but I didn’t want to ruin what I have with you. I love being around you; you make me so happy, but I just didn’t want to put you through the tribulations of dating me.” He paused for a second to look you in the eyes, but you averted his gaze. He took another cold breath in and continued. 

“I know my life isn’t easy and I don’t want you to have to deal with that. You don’t need the paps following you at all times, and you definitely don’t need fans stalking you and your social media. I guess I was trying to do you a favour but now it doesn’t seem like much of one.”

“Yeah it definitely wasn’t much of a favour.” You choked out, as you wiped away a warm tear from your cheek. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just that she understands my life, you know? We run in the same circles, so she’s used to the chaos and whatnot. I don’t want to put you through that misery as well. For you, it’s a choice to not have your privacy invaded, whereas for me it’s part of the job. I was just trying to protect you, sorry.” He took a step closer to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I love you, so much. So much in fact that I don’t want to ruin your life.” He let go of your face, and stuffed his frostbitten hands in his pockets. 

“And that’s why I have to leave.” He turned on his heel, a slump in his step as he walked away from you. He didn’t turn back as he walked back towards his trailer, head hung low. 

You watched him walk away, unsure of how to react. You stood outside long enough to watch him open his trailer door and slam it shut, wincing as it closed. 

You turned around, walking off the lot and back to your car. You huffed as you noticed the frost coating the windscreen, shivering as you struggled to open your car door. Sticking the key into the ignition, you waited for the engine to warm up so that you could leave and never come back. A few minutes later, you drove home, hoping to never see Tom again. 

But a few weeks later, you had seen it all over the news. 

“Stay calm everyone- Tom Holland is in a relationship.” TMZ buzzed.

“Okay I know a lot of girls are going to be sad but Tom Holland is in a relationship with his costar.” Entertainment Tonight boasted.

You couldn’t stand it. When you went to the market, his face was plastered everywhere on the magazine covers. The covers varied from “Tom’s new girl?” “Alert! Tom Holland’s no longer single?”, and “Who is this mystery girl that has stolen T. Holland’s heart?”

It was sickening. You hadn’t heard from him since, which left you no choice but to move on. It was difficult when he was everywhere though, from the TV to the movies to the magazines. Even though he was out of your life, he was still lurking around.

But now, time healed that wound, and seeing his face plastered everywhere didn’t evoke any emotions from you. Two years had since passed since that incident, and you had taken the opportunity to better yourself. You finished your degree, learned a few languages and took better care of your health. You were new and improved.

Not long after you had finally gotten over him, it came out in the news that Tom had proposed to her, but apparently she turned him down. Ouch. She mentioned it in an interview with Extra, and it didn’t come as a shock as she announced she was no longer with Tom, and had quickly moved on to an Italian male model.

You had felt really bad for Tom. Sure, you two weren’t together, and he hadn’t contacted you in years, but you still loved him, and cared about him.

You had watched his descent from grace, as he was spotted at more and more pubs, having attended less and less charity events.

“Tom Holland drinks away his sorrows over his painful breakup” was splattered all over the news outlets. His reputation was currently not great, as the photos showed Harrison helping Tom stumble out of the bars and into an Uber.

So it wasn’t really shocking that he had called you. »

You snapped back out of your thoughts as you heard him beg and begin to sob. You really did feel bad for him, except you didn’t really know what to do. You wanted to help him, but he did leave you so long ago, you were torn to say the least.

“P-please, I p-promise that I’ll b-be better, I just need you.” He whispered the last part, and your heart sank.

You let out a long exhale, taking a second to think about your decision. “Okay, where are you at?” You asked, and he let out a sniffle.

“I-I don’t know, I just walked around looking for a bar and I f-found this one.”

“I’ll need you to be a bit more specific, can you ask the bartender where you are?”

“H-hold on.” He held the phone away from his ear, and you heard a faint discussion in the distance. 

“Darling, I’m at t-the Dragon Lounge, in midtown.” He said, and you wrote it down so you could put it into maps.

“Okay, stay there Tommy, don’t leave.” 

“I miss you calling me ‘Tommy’, and I miss you.” He slurred, but you acted like you didn’t hear that part.

“Right, okay. See you soon.” You quickly hung up the phone as you went to go rescue him.

The Dragon Lounge was a twenty minute drive from your apartment, but since it was so late it only took about fifteen. You found a parking spot right out front, locking your car and walking through the large glass doors. It was nearly vacant inside, so it wasn't hard to find Tom, slumped over the bar with his head resting on his hands.

You walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, and he lifted his head slightly.

“Darling, I’m sorry and I miss you.” He pleaded, but you were taken aback by how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and he hadn’t shaved in maybe a few days, or maybe even a week. To put it lightly, he looked disheveled.

“Oh thank god you finally came, this guy is a mess.” The bartender said in a heavy Irish accent. “He tried to out drink the other Irish gentleman over there, poor boy’s sloshed. He only had two pints of stout but he was already down for the count.” He remarked, while cleaning the cups that Tom just drank out of.

“Well, thank you for watching over him, I guess.” You responded, grabbing Tom’s waist and helping him get up. It was all dead weight, and he wasn’t helping by trying to kiss your cheek every second he had.

“Alright well be safe you two, I don’t want to see him back for a while, he’s been frequenting the joint for the past week.”

“For the past week? He said he just found this place.” You questioned while the bartender shook his head.

“Oh no, he’s definitely been here every night since last Thursday.” He looked over at you and noticed the deep frown on your face. 

“Like I said, the poor kid needs help. Maybe check him into rehab.” The Irishman retorted as he gave you a little wave.

Maybe he should go there, you thought. 

You pondered the idea as you helped Tom stumble out of the back door of the lounge. You found your car and helped Tom get inside, and you even made sure to buckle him in, as if he was a little child.

The drive home was silent, and Tom had fallen asleep. His head rested on the window and he was snoring slightly. Any other time this would have been adorable, and would have made your heart swell. Now, you detested him.

You pulled up to your house and helped Tom get out of the car. You thought about leaving him in the car, but it’s the middle of winter and he would freeze to death. With his arm around your shoulders, you helped lead him to the front door, unlocking it as you were met with the warm air from the heater.

Tom let go of you as he stumbled to the couch and plopped down, nearly hitting his head on the armrest. You covered him in the throw blanket that was draped over the couch, and you made sure he was laying on his side so he wouldn’t choke. He tried to sit up, but failed as he plopped back down into the couch.

It really did pain you to see him this miserable and haggard. The light in his eyes was gone which was replaced by a dull, red look. His face was slightly swollen from constantly being drunk and his mouth was in a perpetual frown.

“I’ll be right back Tom, okay? You stay here while I get you some water.” You tried to move away from the couch but Tom had grabbed onto your hand.

“Please don’t go.” He whispered, barely audible.

“I’m just going to go to the kitchen, I’ll be back in a second.” You said as he nodded, letting go of your hand as you made your way to the kitchen. You filled up a glass of water and made him a cup of instant coffee, so that his hangover won’t be as excruciating.

You walked back over to Tom, who was holding his head as he sobbed. You saw that he was holding onto a picture frame that you had on your coffee table. You recognised it as an old photo of you two from when you went on a vacation to Paris together. It was a surprise birthday trip that Tom planned, and he had just taken you to see the Eiffel Tower. 

You smiled as you remembered how lovely that day was, but it was quickly replaced with a bittersweet feeling when you realised that the boy you loved then, in the photo, is different than the boy sitting in front of you.

You shook your head slightly to get the memory out of your head, as you set the cups down onto the coffee table. Tom looked up at you with teary eyes, and sniffled before muttering a little “thank you”.

“You’re welcome. Drink the coffee and the water and go to sleep. I’m going to bed now, so goodnight.” You said, making your way to the bedroom. You had babied him enough and it was nearly 1:30am, so you didn’t want to wait up to make sure he was asleep.

About thirty minutes had passed, but you couldn’t sleep. You were worried about Tom, and the worry was keeping you up. A few minutes later, you heard him rinsing out the cups in the kitchen, setting them on the counter before shuffling back to the living room. You wanted to check in on him, but decided that he’s probably okay.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps approaching your bedroom, and you looked up to see Tom standing in the doorway. The coffee seemed to have sobered him up, as he was standing without swaying.

“Do you think we can talk? I can’t sleep.” He asked quietly, as if not to disturb you.

“I think tomorrow, erm, later today would be better, Tom. It’s 2am.” You said as you covered yourself up in your blankets, trying to hint to him that you don’t want to talk.

“Please? Just for a bit?” He pleaded, “It’ll be really short, I promise.”

“Okay fine, come here then.” You motioned for him to sit down next to you, and he did. “You have five minutes, so use them wisely.”

He took a deep breath before speaking. He looked over at you and hesitated, while you just stared at him with furrowed brows. He knew you didn’t love him anymore; it was evident in the way you treated him, and the way you looked at him with disdain in your eyes. He knew he blew it, but he was hoping he could fix things. He was determined to.

“God, well, where do I even begin? I’m sorry for being a jerk, and I’m sorry for choosing her over you. I made the wrong decision that night, and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t regret it. I’m still madly in love with you, and I always will be. She didn’t make me happy, not a bit. You did, and still do. I know that you’ll probably never forgive me, and maybe I deserve that, but I just wanted you to know that I still care.” 

He glanced over at you, pausing before continuing. 

“Do you know why she broke up with me? She knew I was still in love with you, and that it wasn’t fair to her to have my heart taken by someone else. That, and I also moaned your name multiple times during sex on many different occasions.” He grimaced, and you broke out into an awkward laughter. 

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, ‘yikes’ indeed.” He laughed. “Anyway she left me, and it was the best decision for the both of us. But the reason I started to go to bars and drinking until I passed out was because I was trying to drown out the thoughts of you. It didn’t work obviously, I could never forget you. I wish I knew what to say other than sorry, but I’m sorry.” He looked down at his clasped hands in his lap, and added, “I would say more but I think my five minutes are up.” 

You sat there, unable to formulate a cohesive thought. All of the words that you were dying to hear have been said, but you didn’t know how to feel. It seemed genuine and sincere, but what if he doesn’t actually mean it? He’s still drunk after all, and he knows that you’re someone who easily forgives, so what if he’s taking advantage of you? 

“Say something, please, say anything.” He pleaded, but you sat there silent. After a minute of silence, you said, “I think you should leave.” 

He got up from the edge of the bed, sighing before walking to the doorway.

“Right, well, um goodnight, and thank you for everything. I don’t deserve you.” He paused again, wanting to give you a minute to process what he just said.

“Oh, je ne veux pas vivre sans toi. I still remember us saying that all the time, and it still holds true. I do not want to live without you.” Tom gave you a small smile before proceeding to go back into the living room.

You sat there speechless, unsure of what to say or do. That phrase replayed repeatedly in your mind as you tried to go to sleep, but you tried to block it out. It worked for a bit, and you managed to get a few hours of sleep, but then you awoke in a panicked state. 

Your mind replayed the memory in your mind, and it was torturing you. He knew how important that phrase was to you both, and it seemed like lifetimes ago when you had last heard that phrase, which was when he took you on holiday for your birthday to Paris. 

« Over two years ago, Tom had surprised you to a trip to Paris for your birthday, a destination that he knew you were dying to see. The night of your birthday, he took you to the top of the illuminated Eiffel Tower. The view of Paris at night was breathtaking, and as you stood there with the love of your life, you knew there was nothing more you’d ever want.

“I have something for you.” He said eagerly as he held onto you from behind. He let go to pull a nicely wrapped box out of his coat pocket, and handed it to you. 

“Tom,” you gasped, “you shouldn’t have. I thought the trip was my gift.” You said, but he nodded his head no. 

“Nope, but now please open it.” He insisted and you did as you were told. You unwrapped the box and saw that it was from Cartier. 

“Tom this is too expensive, I can’t accept it.” You tried to give the box back to him but he pushed it back to you.

“You haven’t even opened it yet, you don’t even know what’s inside!” He exclaimed as you rolled your eyes.

You opened the box and saw two thin gold cuff bracelets. After picking one up and admiring it for a second, you saw that there was an inscription on it inside. It read “je ne veux pas vivre sans toi.” You felt your eyes prick with tears, and Tom smiled as he wiped a tear away. 

“Well, what does it translate to darling?” He asked as he held onto your waist. 

“I don’t want to live without you.” You whispered back to him, smiling as he pulled you close to him. 

“I still don’t understand though, why are there two of them?” You asked against his chest, and he pulled away. Tom reached into the box and grabbed one, grinning as he put it on his wrist. 

“It’s for me to wear, so that we both know that we can’t live without each other.” He was crying too, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, never wanting this night to end. »

You looked over at your phone on the nightstand near your bed to see what time it was, but you noticed a bracelet and a note that wasn’t there earlier. You picked up the bracelet and noticed that it was the Cartier cuff bracelet, but yours was buried in your junk drawer. Realizing that it was his, you saw a handwritten note underneath it, which read: 

“I meant it when I said that in Paris, I love you and I don’t want to live without you.”

-Tom xx

You let out a sob as you clutched his bracelet, realising that he really did care about you, even after all this time. 

You jumped out of bed and walked into the living room. Tom was snuggled up in a blanket, and his arm was hanging over the edge of the couch. His curls were in his face, and he looked peaceful. It was a stark difference from when you saw him earlier at the bar, but now he looks more like the old Tom, the one you had fallen in love with so long ago.

Carefully, in hopes of not waking him up, you put the bracelet on his arm that was hanging over the couch, but he began to stir a bit.

“Hmm, love? Is that you or Tessa?” He asked as you let a small laugh.

“It’s me.” You smiled as Tom sat up to look at you.

He grinned from ear to ear as he realised that you really were standing in front of him. 

You sat down next to him on the couch, staring at the ground. 

“Look,” you hesitated, “I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I’m still not sure if I can forgive you so easily. I mean, I’ve been hoping and praying that you would come back into my life and say all of these things I’ve been dying to hear you say, but now, it just doesn’t feel right. Especially since we haven’t spoken since, and I never did receive an apology from you or anything, until now. Why did you wait so long anyway?” You asked, watching as he thought of his response. 

“I was a coward, that’s why. I didn’t think you’d ever want me back in your life anyways. When I asked people about how you were doing, they said you were thriving, and I didn’t want to interfere with that.”

“Wait, you asked about me?” You inquired, cutting him off. 

“Of course, quite often actually.” He admitted. He half smiled and you half smiled back at him. “I didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you then, but I promise I’m going to change. For you, of course, I want to be a better man for you and you alone. I promise that on my life.” He smiled as a tear formed in his eyes. “I just want to regain your trust.” 

Your eyes scanned his face, seeing if there was any indication of him lying, but you knew the words were genuine. 

“Okay.” You said.

“Okay?” He questioned, a tinge of happiness laced in his voice. 

“I’m willing to give you another chance, but we obviously have a lot to work on. However, I’m willing to allow you to regain my trust and try to make this work.” 

He grinned, watching as you smiled softly back at him. “Love, I want to be better for you. I promise, whole heartedly. I promise I’ll protect you and never leave you, and I also promise that I won’t break your heart again.” He vowed, the corners of his eyes welling up with tears. 

You grabbed his hand, him grabbing it back while he gently rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. 

“You better not.” You tearily laughed, watching his face break out into a smile. 

“I won’t, I promise.”

And he kept his promise. It took some time to regain his trust, but he had shown that he could be faithful. Your relationship was smooth and happy since that night, and you had learned to accept his hectic life, fame and all. He was always besides you, checking and making sure that you were always alright.

Exactly two years later, down to the very date that you two reconciled, you and Tom got married right at the top of the Eiffel Tower, exactly where he had first told you that he couldn’t live without you. Now, he never would have to. 

mes petits anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth @taciturnspidey @musicalkeys @harrysleftchelseaboot @quaksonhehe @halfblood-princess-505

[sylvie-writes]

Can you do a part two of what you just posted of Chris announcing your pregnancy? And have it be of them announcing the birth of their baby? And him talking about how they waited so long (6-8 weeks maybe?) just to be able to enjoy being new parents without the media involved and have him do a huge photo dump of newborn photos with dodger and him and the reader? And then maybe add in some fan comments giving them nothing but all the love and support in the world?!

Side note: I’m literally sobbing because your writing is 12/10!

LIVESTREAM

a/n: sorry for the wait, lovely. and now i'm sobbing because of your very sweet note. while i go get some tissues, enjoy the story! 

Part 1, Big Brother Dodger, is on my masterlist! 

“Chris, honey, you ready?”

You were sitting on the couch, phone propped up on the coffee table, prepped and ready for a live stream. It had been a few weeks since your son was born and you and Chris were finally ready to share the news. For the time that you had him to yourselves, it was very much enjoyable and you were able to make many memories, but now was the time you’d share with the media and fans. When it came to anything related to your baby, the world normally went into a panic, but a positive one. You really did enjoy reading some of the kind words from Chris’s fans. 

Soon footsteps clobbered down the stairs and you saw Chris, hair a bit disheveled from running, but looking good nonetheless. In his arms, was your son who was dressed in a little patriots onesie that your husband insisted he wear for the livestream. You agreed as long as your son wore the matching hat, which surprisingly he didn’t fuss about. 

Taking a few more strides, Chris joined you on the couch, one arm around your shoulders, the other supporting your son. 

“Okay, we’re live in three, two, one.”

The camera started to stream and your face drew into a happy smile upon seeing hundreds of people gather into the livestream. As they entered, hundreds more of comments flew by, mostly talking about your son who squirmed in Chris’s arms, making his presence known.

After a few seconds, a couple hundred people were in and you began talking.

“Hi folks! I’m sure you’ve all been along this journey with Chris and I, so we’d like to proudly announce the arrival of our son, (your son’s name)!”

Chris lifted up the baby to sit in his lap, grabbing the child’s chubby arm and waving at the phone, a silly smile on his own face. 

“Today, my wife and I are going to try our best to answer your questions, so drop them!”

Squinting, you started to see and read more and more comments, catching a few. 

“First question! From Elise, she asked how old is our son? He looks a bit older than a newborn.”

You look to your husband, who takes the question.

“Nice detective work, Elise,” He laughs, “(your son’s name) is 8 weeks old. We kept him a little secret so we could get some time in with him, ya know?”

As Chris finished the question, a bunch of hearts and puppy dog eye emojis zoomed by. Soon, another question came onto the screen, this time your husband reading it to you.

“Scott Evans asks, will you share pics of the baby and dodger?”

Immediately, Chris burst into laughter seeing as his brother had weaseled into the comment section.

“My brother in law, ladies and gentlemen,” A few giggles slipped from your lips, “But yes Scott, we are going to share photos.”

For a good hour or so, you and Chris answered many comments from the fans, even receiving a few that were just compliments. One viewer was so kind and sent you the sweetest message, making your eyes water a bit. 

“Hi (y/n)! I just wanted to say, I really admire how you’ve been so open with us, as we know you and Chris had some trouble. You’ve been an inspiration to me, as my husband and I have had the same problem, but I wanted to say congrats on your bundle of joy! We love you so much! - Anna.”

You read the message and felt the tears prick at your eyes, without second thought you sent the woman your love. Chris noticed how emotional you were getting and leaned to kiss you on the temple.

“I have to agree with Anna.”

Looking up, your husband smiled down at you, and you both knew the viewers were eating up the moment. There was no doubt that you wouldn’t be on ET tonight.

When the livestream was over, Chris went to go place the baby down for a nap, as the little guy experienced a pretty long day. He soon returned, plopping down onto the couch beside you, where the phone was now in your hand, the media already posting about the events prior. In particular, you saw an article titled, “Why Chris Evans and (y/n) Evans is Hollywood’s best couple.” You read the article just for the thrill of it and came across the picture of Chris kissing you earlier. Feeling a bit flustered, you smiled to yourself, which made Chris sneak a peek at your phone. He saw the picture and decided to kiss you again. Gently, the man brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and kissed your neck, making you lean into his touch. His hand was resting on your shoulder, as you closed your eyes, leaning against said arm. You just sat there in bliss as your husband planted fluttering kisses to your neck, especially the sensitive spot that made you titter a bit. 

A few days later, Dodger was resting on the back porch with you, sitting on the outdoor sofa enjoying the nice weather. You decided to bring the baby and Dodge out for fresh air while Chris did a zoom interview. He was supposed to be out in an hour, giving you some nice downtime outside. Currently, Dodger was curled up on the couch beside you. Baby in your arms, you snaked a hand out to pet him. Suddenly, Dodger shifted and laid his head on your thigh, looking up at the baby. He looked so precious and was so great around your son, that you lowered the sleeping baby to Dodger’s level where he softly sniffed the boy’s tummy. You grinned at the sight of your two boys interacting and you wished you were able to get a picture.

Wish granted, your husband had sneaked out of the office early, and watched the whole thing go down. He thought to himself that this would be the cutest first picture of the many that would ensue. Discreetly, Chris took the picture and walked towards you, now gaining your attention. There was just one cushion left on the couch, large enough for the man to squeeze himself onto. Just as you were about to ask Chris to take a picture, he pulled out his phone, showing you the picture he’d taken and how he had posted it on instagram. 

@chrisevans- They are definitely Momma’s boys 

You laughed at his creative caption and turned to kiss his bearded cheek in gratitude. It had only been posted for 40 seconds, yet thousands of fans had commented. Chris was never one to comment and like the fan comments, but today he was feeling extra appreciative of their support. He did his best to like all of the lovely comments as you did the same. 

[funnierinenochian85]

Ok, I’ve had some time to digest and think about this whole Ch*d/S*m fiasco and here is why I am PIIIIIIIISED:

Did Ch*d or S*m say anything about Destiel wedding happening? No. It was not something that was directly talked about by them ever.

HOWEVER, Ch*d’s responses about not knowing/understanding that people were taking it another way than he meant it are BULLSHIT. From the first post where he mentioned weddings, Hellers bombarded those comments asking about Destiel getting married on Valentines Day. We Hellers are MANY things, but SUBTLE is definitely not one of them. Both he and S*m saw how excited we were all getting. Now if they really just didn’t know what insanity they started, they would have just said, hey, just to be clear, no events are currently scheduled except the Valentines Day Party (I’m sure we still would’ve run with the wedding because we’re us, but our expectations would’ve been lower for Ch*d/S*m). What did they do instead? Talked about a rowdy pre V-day party where they implied Cas was there and somehow was stripped of his trench coat, again IMPLYING things, but not stating them as fact nor dispelling any of the MANY discussions of a Destiel bachelor’s party taking place in the comments.

But what REEEEALLY got my hackles up was when Ch*d started to post links to his jewelry and then his Cameo account for V-day posts. He SAW how much engagement the Hellers were giving him and how passionate and supportive we are of cast/crew/writers etc that come out as pro-Destiel and he made a conscious decision to capitalize on that. Was that shitty? Absolutely, but we’ve dealt with it for 12 years, so we’re used to it by now...still shitty, though.

And then to have the AUDACITY to come at the fans who are upset at this blatant Destiel-baiting with the “I’m sorry you misunderstood and are now upset” bullshit?!?!?!

I can’t even get into what S*m had to say about how validating Destiel would be disrespectful to the creators of the original source material (funny cuz I’m pretty sure the original source material included Cas actually having a “homosexual declaration of love”, but go off I guess). I just...I can’t.

THEIR LOVE WAS REAL. WE KNOW IT, THE WRITERS KNOW IT, THE ACTORS KNOW IT. THIS, THE MOST EPIC QUEER LOVE STORY OF ALL TIME, IS NOT AN OUTSIDE PERSPECTIVE NOR IS IT A FIGMENT OF OUR COLLECTIVE IMAGINATIONS. COPE.

[babybuckleys]

In Jail & Needing Bail.

Drew & Rudy x Reader. (just friends but a bit flirtier with Drew.)

Summary: Hanging out with the outer banks cast was always eventful but you didn't expect to be in a jail cell with two of your closest friends.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: trespassing, smoking, a few bad words.

A/N: this is my first fic with no relationship and the most warnings so bare with me. But the boys look so hot in handcuffs. Also I do not know anything about prison. This is my first fic on here, hope you like it. (I guess this means im open to requests.)

Nothing was supposed to happen, you guys were just supposed to be having a good time . Now you were sitting in a jail cell with Drew and Rudy. Now if we back up a few hours to where it all started this would all make sense.

You were all sitting in Chase’s apartment and were starting to get bored. Earlier in the day everyone had come over and you guys had a movie marathon day. But now as it was starting to reach around 10pm and people were starting to get antsy. LA usually was very awake at 10pm, people at restaurants and just walking around the city. So when Madison suggested that you guys go explore the city everyone agreed. Anything to get out of the stuffy apartment.

As you headed into town someone through the bunch of your friends suggested first you should grab a bite to eat. Food was important if you wanted to last the night so a bunch of murmurs were heard throughout the crowd. After finishing up, you guys headed on a walk to wherever your feet would take you. 

LA had many different sides to it. There was the jam packed side overflowing with people and places. Then there was the sketichier side of LA. The side where it was darker and there were less open shops and buildings. As you and your friends headed to the darker side of LA you huddled closer together. Still laughing and having a good time together. As you headed forward, your group of friends came to a halt. You lost your balance a little since you were towards the back and it was an unexpected stop. Everyone looked forward to see what was up. 

“Shit look guys.” Chase said. Everyone followed his gaze to an abandoned house in the middle of the street.

“How about we sneak in, we got nothing to lose.” Austin spoke out.

“I don't think that a good idea, it's kind of scary.” Madelyn said.

“Yeah I agree” Madison and you said.

“Come on, let's live a little.” Drew said as he bumped your shoulder with you. Drew was your best friend, also as was Rudy. So usually when you guys told each other stuff to do, you guys did it no matter the circumstance.

“Sure, why not.” you told him, what you did for and with your best friends you thought as you shook your head. 

The boys headed in first and you girls stuck behind. What a great way to be spending a night in LA with your friends. In an abandoned house at midnight. You weren't one to break the rules so when you didn't see any sign about no trespassing you though it was ok. At first it was kind of scary but after the eerie feeling went away you decided to walk around and explore. Some of your friends even thought it was a perfect time to record it for their Instagram stories. You headed one way by yourself as your friends all headed separate ways. You turned on the flashlight on your phone and tried not to be too scared. As you were walking more you heard creaking but thought that maybe they were just your steps. 

“Boo.” Drew grabbed your shoulders and whispered in your ear. You screamed and dropped your phone. You heard the scatter of your friends footsteps as they ran to the source of the screaming.

“You're an ass for doing that, you know that.” you told Drew as you shoved him. 

“But you love me.” he said as he wrapped your arms around you.

“Y/N, you ok?” asked Madison, searching for your voice in the pitch black building. Out of the two girls you were always closer to her, and talked to her when you couldn't talk to the two boys.  Soon they all reached you and Drew. 

“Yeah I am, someone just decided to be childish and scare me.” you told her. Soon you all explored together. For the next thirty minutes you walked around. It started to get around 1:30am and Jonathan started to yawn. You knew that it was about time to head out since it was getting late and you guys were getting tired.

As the rest of your friends headed out, you stayed behind to tie your shoe. Rudy stayed behind so you wouldn't be alone. As you got up from tying your shoe, you felt around your pockets for your phone. 

“My phone, shit where's my  phone.” you said as you frantically searched your clothing pockets. 

“How about we retrace your steps, when was the last time you had it?”

“Uhm I think it was when Drew scared me.” you thought as you remembered that when you guys were upstairs you must have dropped it. As you guys were headed upstairs Drew headed in to see what was taking so long.

“Hey guys y'all aren't doing any funny business.” Drew said as he walked in with his hands over his hands. 

“Shut up Starkey, we aren't even dating.” you said as you looked at him. You were best friends with both boys but always tended to be a bit more flirty with Drew, but of course would never date any of them, because you liked how your friendship worked.

“Ok then what's taking so long.” he said in an exasperated tone.

“I lost my phone and don't know where it is. Can you help us find it?” 

“But we gotta hurry up cause this place is giving me the creeps.” Drew said hugging his hands to himself. 

You guys laughed as all three of you headed up stairs to the last spot you were at. While you were looking, your other friends were outside. 

Currently waiting for the rest of you to come out. “What's taking them so long, it's getting cold.” Madelyn said.

“Maybe someone should go check on them.” suggested Madison. As your friends played rock,paper, scissors to decide who would go in; they saw police lights in the distance. 

“Shit are they coming this way?” Chase asked.

“Nah I don't think so, maybe it's a coincidence.” said Austin. As your friends continued on waiting for you they heard the speaker of the police car. 

“Hands up where I can see them.” said the police officer through the megaphone. 

“Shit , shit, run.” said Jonathon. 

“Shouldn't we wait for them or at least warn them.” Madison said worried about the rest of her friends.

“I don't think that's a good idea, our best bet right now is to run or else we’re going to get arrested,” Chase said. Your friends ran as fast as they could as you guys inside headed back downstairs. 

You headed outside and the first thing you heard was “hands on your head and step out carefully.” You couldn't believe you were about to get arrested and where were your other friends? Nowhere to be seen. 

“No fucking way.” Rudy said.

As you stepped down towards the cops they handcuffed you all a bit too roughly. “Anything you say will be held against you.” he said as he put all of you in the back of the cop car. As you started to drive off Drew spoke up. 

“I guess it's time to take a ride downtown.” You just shook your head as you buried your head into your hands. Rudy put a hand on your leg to ease the tension. You could not believe you had just gotten arrested for trespassing with your two best friends. 

As you were put into a cell all you could think about was how this was crazy. Drew and Rudy were handcuffed together in one corner and you were in the other. You werent gonna lie, your two best friends were attractive but something about them handcuffed together just sparked something in you.

“I don't understand why we have to be handcuffed, it's not like we are going to fight each other.”

“Well I got to say it's pretty hot that you too are handcuffed.” you didn't know where you got this new source of confidence and you were kind of shocked.

“Damn Y/N, jail is turning you wild.” Drew said. You looked down blushing and ignored his comment. Rudy was becoming stressed, you could tell because first he was shaking his  leg up and down. Next he did something that he only did when he was stressed, he pulled out a cigarette. 

He started smoking it and offered Drew one too.  “You want one Y/N?” he asked.

“No thanks Pankow, two people smoking in here is enough.” You weren't a fan of smoking but again something about your friends in handcuffs and smoking was so hot. You sat in a corner and hoped that you could get out of this soon. Because you didn't think that you could last much longer in here with your friends looking that hot, barely doing anything and you not doing anything stupid. The officer came in a bit later and said that you guys can call someone.

“You guys get one call, make it worth it,” he said in a grumpy voice.

“What the hell, why do we only get one call if there are three of us.” Drew questioned.

“Watch you tone.” the officer said. You grabbed his arm and looked at him in reassurance to not say anything else. “Hey it's ok, they'll answer.” You really hoped your friends answered. You weren't sure what time it was but you decided that your best bet was calling Madison, she had always been there for you so you hoped this was the case. 

You punched in her number and after three rings there was static on the other end.

“Hello, Madi, Are you there? Please tell me you're there.” you said trying not to break down in front of your friends.

“Y/N oh my god, are you guys ok, I'm sorry we couldn't stay back.” she said. You knew that they couldn't stay back because instead of three being arrested it would be eight. 

“Oh god Madi, I don't know how long I could be in here with them.” you told her suggesting the fact about how they were looking so hot. 

“Why? Are they being gross? Have they posted bail for you guys.” you knew you couldn't tell her with the boys around so you suggested to them that they go ask the officer how much your guys bail was set at. When Drew stayed behind you spoke up.

“Can you both go, I have to tell Madison something.” you looked at him pleadingly. He shook his head and jogged up to catch Rudy.

“Gosh Madison I don't know, it's just something about them in handcuffs and smoking that's so hot.” you exasperated to the brown haired girl.

“Damn seems like someone has a crush on two guys and has a kink, I thought you hated smoking” said Madison laughing of her best friend in a joking way.

“Don't say it so loud. They're attractive guys but just my best friends that's it. Now shh they're coming back. “ Y/N said as she turned around and saw both boys heading her way.

“He said the bail is set at $500.” Rudy said.

“Did you hear that Madison?” Y/N told her friend on the other line.

“Yeah I just told the others. Hang in there, We will try to get you guys out soon.” She said as there was shuffling on the other end then and the line ended.

“Ok they said that they'll try to get the money as soon as possible, I guess we just have to wait.” You sulked back to the jail cell sleepily. You closed your eyes and laid your head on Drew's shoulder. About what seemed like a few hours later the jiggling of keys startled you awake.

“Someone here to bail you out, come on get up.” the officer said. You and your friends headed out of the cell sleepily. As you headed out of the police station you noticed as the sun was rising. You saw your friends leaning against Chase’s car. You all pulled each other into a hug.

“What a night we had.” Austin said.

“You're not the one who got arrested” you said looking at him with a serious face.

“Yeah man it was your idea and you didn't even have to be in a cell for god knows how many hours.” Rudy said.

“Well it's now 7 in the morning so you guys were in there for about five hours, sorry it took us so long to get the money.” Madelyn said.

“It's all good, what matters now is that we are out and that we should get some food cause I am starving.” Drew sighed.

“I agree with that statement, let's go get some food.” you said. You had an eventful night that you never expected would happen but now you were glad it was winding down with your friends and food.

taglist: @heartbreak-hemmings (thank you for helping me with the title), @thelocalpogue, @outrbank, @jayjaymaebank, @beautyandthebleh, @ceruleanjj, @pogue-style, @shawnssongs, @flowersinvegas​, @baby-bearie, @myrandom-fandomlife, @calumbroutledge, @bellaguarneri.

[jalapeno-princess]

More Than Friends

(I was gonna say he looks so good in here but who am I kidding, he always looks so fucking good)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst (but mainly fluff I can’t write angst to save my life)

Word Count: 5K

Summary: You and Mark have a very interesting relationship. The two of you are not exactly dating, but you’re not just friends either. Because of who he is, he isn’t able to take things further in your relationship no matter how badly he wants to. However, something causes him to feel the need to put a label on what exactly is going on between you both.

A/N: (It’s kind of repetitive lol idk how I feel about this story) This was requested by another one of my favorite followers on here @safetypineapples Thank you for all your love and support with my stories and I love reading all of yours! I hope you enjoy this one! Based on the song “At my weakest” by James Arthur.

It's a long night and a big crowd Under these lights looking 'round for you Yeah, I'm steppin' outside under moonlight To get my head right, lookin' out for you, yeah

Could it be your eyes Didn't know that I've been Waitin', waitin' for you When your by my side, everything's alright Crazy, I'm crazy for youOh, here I go, down that road Again and again the fool rushin' in But I can't help when I feel some kind of way Do you feel the same? 'Cause And I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest And I fall for you

“Pick up—fuck—please pick up.” 

Mark was pacing back and forth in the hallway; he must’ve looked like a crazy person to all the staff and security guards at the event, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t too sure why it was happening, especially because he was right about to go on stage, but he was currently going through a panic attack. Just a couple of minutes ago, he was sitting in the dressing room with Yugyeom and Jinyoung, waiting for the rest of the guys to finish getting their makeup and hair done. He was playing a couple of games on his phone when he decided to scroll on Instagram and Twitter for a little while when he stumbled across of a few negative posts that crawled under his skin. 

Being a KPOP idol had its perks; he got to do what he loved, making music, writing songs, touring and traveling around the world, meeting new people and learning of their cultures and getting to perform on stage in front of thousands of their fans alongside his six best friends. Unfortunately, pros also came with cons. With the large amount of love he received all around the world, he also got a lot of unnecessary hate. He never understood what he did to be hated so much. 

Mark was a very kind-hearted, soft-spoken, generous, humble and hardworking person. Sure, he might not have been the best rapper in KPOP, but he gave his all in each and every one of his performances, practices, recording sessions and even when it didn’t have to do with the music; whether it was modeling or being on a reality tv show, he made sure to try his best in order to please everyone he was around. That’s all Mark really wanted to do, but it just wasn’t enough for some people. To the people who weren’t fans of him, if he was too generous, they would consider it as him showing off his wealth and social status. 

There were so many different organizations Mark would donate to and speak up for to show his support but so many antis would claim he was doing it just to look good to the public. However, once he went silent to stop all the loathing and hatred, people called him stingy and claimed he didn’t care about others. These days, it seemed as if Mark was the main target for hate within their group and that says a lot seeing as how Got7 were constantly hated on and ridiculed on a daily basis for no reason at all. Whenever something like this happened, his members would constantly tell him to stay away from social media and told him that all the negative people were just jealous of what an amazing person he was. 

Normally he would do quite the good job with ignoring the hate, and the rumors that were made up about him that made no actual sense at all; but for some reason there was one comment about how Got7 would be much better off without Mark in the group because apparently “Mark doesn’t do anything to really help the groups success in any way.” Or so the comment read. He tried his best to ignore it and he wanted to find something to take his mind off of the comment, but he couldn’t. 

Not even the funny video Yugyeom showed him could prevent him from overthinking and he really didn’t want to show that he was bothered to the other members. As much as he loved them like family, the last thing he wanted to hear was to ignore the hate which is what they always told him. One can only ignore something so much until it actually eats away at them to the point where they feel like screaming and since Mark wasn’t in a place where he could verbally or physically let out his frustrations, he excused himself from the room and walked throughout the arena looking for a quiet and empty place to call the only person he knew that could calm him down. 

The only person whose been on his mind and clouding up his thoughts for the last two months since the tour started. Mark considered every single member of Got7 to be his best friend; from day one the seven of them have been through so much together. So many ups and downs, so many trials and tribulations that only made them stronger as individuals and a whole group. Each member had their own way of cheering Mark up; whether it was Jackson making silly jokes, Jinyoung reciting lines from a show he was acting in, Youngjae bringing coco over for Mark to play with her or BamBam buying him a bunch of luxurious items because in his words “a little Gucci never hurt nobody.” 

However, the only person who could really get Mark out of the deepest funk was you. You, in more or less words were the only other best friend Mark had apart from his members. He told you every single secret, worry, doubt and insecurity he had because he trusted you with his entire being. On the fateful day the two of you met over a year and a half ago, Mark knew you were going to be someone special in his life and that was an understatement. If he was being honest, you were his entire life; Mark never believed in soulmates before meeting you. 

The idea of two people out of the billions of people in the world being destined together was so cliche and he didn’t understand why so many people would claim they met their soulmate. As the days went by and he spent more and more time with you, Mark realized that he got more than he bargained for when he became friends with you and that’s when he knew he was in trouble. Your relationship with Mark was hard to explain; for the first few months, you found confidants in one another. He was your escape from reality just as much as you were his. When your education and work got too much for you to handle, Mark would do whatever he could in his power to get you to focus on better things. Further down the line of being friends, it then blossomed in to something more. Even when Mark was still getting to know you, he found himself developing a little crush on you, but it was inevitable. 

You had a beauty that Mark couldn’t even put in to words to describe. He may have been surrounded with so many beautiful idols, actresses and models on a weekly basis, but there was just something; actually many things about you that stood out from everyone else. Mark was sure he’d be able to spot you in a crowded room because his eyes were always looking for you and because you just radiated such a positive and spirit lifting energy that was so contagious. He always wanted to be around you. Around four months in to your friendship, Mark confesses his feelings for you, but he knew he couldn’t act on them. Dating was taboo in the KPOP industry and most idols who were in relationships did their best in hiding it. 

There was nothing Mark wanted more than to be the lucky guy you called yours, but it was selfish of him to want to take things further with you knowing that he’d be holding you back from so many things. And it wasn’t like the two of you could have a normal relationship. He wouldn’t get to take you on all these cute dates he was sure you wanted to go on, he wouldn’t get to post about you nor would you be allowed to post anything about him, he couldn’t hold hands, hug you, hold you and kiss you unless it was behind closed doors. 

He wouldn’t be able to give you the love and attention you deserved and never failed to show him every single day and that’s what bothered him the most. You were so close, yet so far away and Mark was afraid that you’d get tired of being just friends with him and decide that you didn’t want to wait around for him. Especially since you requited his same feelings and made it aware that you were willing to do whatever it was that he asked of you. You were aware of how hectic his life was and you had a feeling a relationship would be something he wouldn’t be able to give you and you respected it completely. 

As long as you had Mark in your life, it didn’t matter what he was to you. But you were only human. You were still so young and had a great head on your shoulders. You had so much going for you yet you were always at his beck and call whenever he needed you. To both his delight yet dismay, you were willing to drop anything and everything for him. While he was away, you’d wake up in the middle of the night to talk to him and stay up till the wee hours of the morning to listen to him talk about his day even if you had an early morning shift or class. 

When he got sick, you’d pick up some medication and make some soup to help him feel better. If you were out with friends or colleagues and he asked to hang out, you’d give them some lame excuse and made your way over to him. Mark could never come up with the right words to say to show you and tell you just how much you meant to him and how afraid he was to lose you. All he could do, was show you through his actions; his gentle kisses on your cheeks, your forehead and your lips, how he would always need to be touching you whenever the two of you would spend time together, the way he would always check up on you to make sure you’ve eaten all your meals and that you were taking good care of yourself and doing all these little things for you like blowdrying your hair for you when you were too tired or helping you study for an exam even if he had no clue what he was reading. 

He could only hope you understood his nonverbal signals of love. Being on tour was always so fun; it seemed as if more fans came out with every new tour and tonight in London, there were at least 40,000 people at the Wembley stadium waiting for Got7 to perform. Over the years, his nerves slowly calmed down and performing on stage was such an indescribable feeling that he was so grateful for being able to do. The only thing he hated about touring, was being away from you. 

Mark made sure to FaceTime you whenever he got the chance, but it wasn’t the same as seeing your breathtaking smile and contagious laughter that he loved so much in person. He’s asked you to go along with them many times, but because you were a full time student with a full time job, and Mark’s company didn’t think it would look good for some random girl to join them on tour and follow them around the world, you stayed back in Korea. As the phone line kept ringing, anxiety built up in his chest the longer he waited. He checked his phone to see what time it was in Korea and he let out an exasperated sigh. 

It was currently six in the morning and since Mark knew your schedule like the back of his hand, there was a chance you were either getting ready for school or for work and he tried his best not to be upset. Just like how his work was his main priority, you had every right to make your studies and your work ethic your main concern. However, you had a tendency to put Mark at the top of your priorities and sometimes he wished you didn’t think so highly of him. He wanted to give you the same amount of attention and praise you’ve shown him over the years and you were his second main focus right after his job. 

He hated putting you second, he was sure you must’ve loathed having to be his second priority but you never complained nor would you make it known that it bothered you and Mark didn’t know what higher power it was that brought you two together nor did he know what he did to deserve someone so patient and understanding, but he would do it time and time again if it meant having you in his life for as long as he possibly could. With one more sigh, he began walking back towards the corridors where their waiting room was located when he felt his phone vibrate. He didn’t even miss a beat, once he saw your name on the screen he answered and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He was sure he didn’t have much time to talk to you, but it didn’t matter. All Mark needed was to hear your voice and he knew he’d feel so much better. 

“Hey baby, I’m sorry I missed your call. I was washing my face and brushing my teeth. Aren’t you going on stage here soon? Is everything okay?” 

Just hearing your soft little giggle through the speaker was enough to get him to forget of his problems and all he focus on was the sound of your gentle and extremely soothing voice. The term of endearment made him feel even more giddy and he was sure if the guys were to see the effect that you had on him, they wouldn’t let him live it down. 

“Yeah I just—I just wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, I just really miss you. That’s all.” 

By the hesitant tone of his voice, you could tell there was something more that he wasn’t telling you, but you weren’t going to pry at him. You never forced mark to go in to detail about what was worrying him and wanted him to confide in you at his pace. But you hated knowing that something was currently on his mind not knowing exactly what it was. Even if Mark was a couple of years older than you, you always felt the need to protect him from any evil. His happiness and well being was all you ever cared about and sometimes you’d put it before your own. 

“I miss you too Mark and you’re never a bother, you know that. You know if something is wrong, you can tell me right?” 

Although you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was nodding in agreement. The two of you had a mutual understanding; you’d wait for each other to find solace in one another but when you did, you’d let it all out. “I know, thanks y/n. I read something so shitty earlier, but hearing your voice makes it all the more better. Don’t worry about me babe, I��m okay. I’m sure the guys are probably looking for me. I’ll call you after the show, have a nice morning and don’t forget to eat a hearty breakfast. I’ll talk to you soon love.” 

Once you both said your goodbyes, Mark felt energized and ready to go on stage. He didn’t think it was possible for someone to change him for the better but here you were, making his heart feel as if it was about to bust out of his chest and he never wanted that feeling to go away. As soon as he made his way back to the dressing room where all the guys were dressed up and waiting for him, they were all confused seeing the huge grin on his face after he left so abruptly as if something was wrong; but none of them were going to question it. They were all aware of who you were to Mark and all six of them approved of you. 

They loved the effect you had on the eldest boy; they loved the way you made him laugh and smile on his darkest days. You were the light Mark needed and they knew you were put in his life to save him from himself. Once they all walked out onstage and heard the thousands of screams and chants echoing throughout the arena, anything that was bothering Mark no longer mattered to him. All he could think about was making the fans happy, putting all his energy in to each and every song they performed and getting to call you again later. The concert went off without a hitch and honestly it had to be one of the best concerts they’ve done since they started touring. 

For the rest of the week, Got7 finished the Europe leg of the tour and as much as Mark loved exploring the many different cities, trying the different foods they had to offer and taking a well deserved rest from all his other work, he couldn’t wait for the two week break the guys were allowed back in Korea. He couldn’t find it in himself to sleep the night before, he was just so excited to have you in his arms again and he came up with the plan to surprise you about coming home earlier than expected. Everyone seemed to know of Mark’s plans because as soon as they landed, they hailed him a taxi and gave the driver your address which he was extremely grateful for. While he was away, he’d find himself overthinking your relationship. 

He wanted—no, Mark needed to set things straight between the two of you. Even if you told him that you were willing to wait for him for as long as he needed you to, humans could only be patient for so long and he was afraid you’d find somebody while he was away. Somebody who could take care of you in ways Mark could only wish he’d be able to. Somebody who would love you freely; out in the open without having to worry about a rumor breaking out. Somebody worthy of all your love and admiration. 

It was late when they arrived back and he could only hope you didn’t log on to social media and saw that Got7 were back in Korea. He quickly stopped by a cute little hole in the wall florist shop and purchased you a dozen of your favorite flowers. No matter how jet lagged he was from the ten hour flight and how much he wanted to go to sleep, the desire and urge to hold you in his arms was stronger than any exhaustion he felt. He knew he should’ve texted you to ask what you were doing in case you were out to dinner with your friends, but he was just too excited to finally see you that it slipped his mind that there was a chance you weren’t home. 

As soon as he buzzed your doorbell, there was an odd feeling that crashed over him and he couldn’t put his finger on it. However, once you opened the door and he saw you dressed so prettily, the numbness he felt in his chest only grew more. 

“Oh my God—Mark! What are you doing back so early?!” 

You didn’t give him any time to answer before you practically jumped on him; wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You began leaving chaste kisses on the sides of his face and finally left a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth before jumping down. 

“Hello to you too baby. I wanted to surprise you. God y/n, I’ve missed you so much.” 

You looked up at him with an adoring look in your eyes before cupping his cheek. These last three months without him was just as hard and if not more difficult on you than it was for him. Mark had all his members, friends, staff, family and fans by his side but all you really had was him. Although he never failed to lean on you whenever he needed to, you didn’t want to bother him and handled most of your problems by yourself. Even if he told you to tell him when something wasn’t going your way; you just never wanted to burden him. Just getting a text of encouragement was enough to help ease your negative thoughts. 

Seeing him, with his fluffy, brown hair down to his neck, his face more healthier and fuller than the last time you’ve seen each other and his biceps more prominent, it was an overwhelming feeling and you had a hard time believing he was actually back and at your apartment. 

“Mmm, I missed you too handsome. Let’s get you settled in. Did you eat? Are you hungry? You look exhausted Mark.” You reached for his hand as he held the bouquet of flowers under his arm and dragged in his luggage with his free hand. Since you were ahead of him, you didn’t get to see the way his cheeks turned bright pink at your sudden movement. He was so whipped for you. Once you walked in to your living room, he was quick to notice the box of chocolates on your coffee table and the flowers in a vase sitting on your counter. There was that weird feeling again and he was soon growing curious with what exactly it was that seemed to be eating away at him. You had him take a seat on the couch as you hurriedly brought his luggage in to your room and made your way back to him. 

“I uh—these are for you.” You gave him a toothy grin; excited at the idea of him thinking to stop by somewhere and get you flowers. The soft peck on his lips was your token of appreciation and you walked in to your kitchen to find another vase to put his flowers in. Although he felt as if he could practically knock out right there, he got up from the couch and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his chin on top of your shoulder. You’ve always adored the height difference between you and Mark. You weren’t the shortest person ever, but you weren’t blessed with height. You shivered at the feeling of him pressing a kiss against your neck and leaned back in to his chest to give him more access to your nape. 

“Where’d you buy the flowers from?” When he felt you tense up at his question, he knew something was up and he had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer. 

“I just came back from a double date—but it’s not what you think. One of my coworkers really likes this guy, but she didn’t want to go out with him on her own just yet so she asked me to tag along with her. Honestly she’s been trying to set me up with all these guys but I’ve told her I’m unavailable more times than I can count on my hands. I think she used that as an excuse for me to go out on a date, but I really wasn’t interested. He gave me these flowers and those chocolates, but I didn’t really give him any of my attention and if I’m being honest, the entire thing was so awkward and I gave an excuse to leave early. I’m glad I did though.” 

You were facing him at his point and ran both your hands through his hair. So that’s why you were all dolled up; Mark knew he wasn’t overreacting for no reason. You just came back from a date. It didn’t matter that your friend set you up, for all he knew you could go on multiple dates and he couldn’t do anything about it. The two of you were untitled. He didn’t have the right to stop you from looking for a genuine relationship. All he could do was hope and pray that the feelings you harbored for him were enough to get you to stick around. 

The way his brows furrowed made you nervous and you didn’t think he cared for you in that way to get bothered at the idea of you seeing someone else. You and Mark may have acted like a couple, but because he wasn’t able to be in a relationship nor did he make it verbally known that he wanted to be one with you, you didn’t think it was possible for him to grow jealous at the thought of you dating someone else. 

“I see. Have you been on any other dates? Met anyone worth your while?”

“No. Just the one tonight. Why would I look for anyone else when I have you Mark? Or I mean—actually I don’t know what I mean. I’m not yours and you’re not mine yet I’m holding on to this tiny little thread and the little voice that’s telling me to not give up on us but I don’t know what you see me as; for all I know I could just be a friend you kiss every now and then just because you can’t have anything to serious. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me and that I’m fine with being stuck in this untitled relationship knowing that I want more, but all I care about is you. I know it’s hard for you to live a normal life and I just wanted to give you whatever it is that you need. I’m sorry, I talk too much—“ 

When you felt a teardrop fell on your cheek, you hesitantly looked up at the older boy and felt a pang to your chest at the sight of his lip quivering as tears were building up at his eyelids. Everyone and anyone who knew Mark was well aware of how sensitive he could be and it was a trait of his you genuinely appreciated. It showed that he had such a big heart. There were moments where he would cry watching a sad video or movie and you’d always smile softly to yourself at how adorable he was. But now, seeing him cry and having a feeling that you were the reason made your head spin. He brought his hands down to your waist and lifted you up on to the counter before connecting your lips together in a rough and extremely passionate kiss. 

You and Mark might have shared quite a few kisses in the last year, but this was the first time his lips smashed and melded against yours perfectly. His lips were chapped and tasted salty from his tears, but it didn’t matter. He all but gently forced his tongue in to your mouth and down your throat and although the feeling was foreign, you could find yourself getting used to this. All too soon, he pulled his lips away and placed his forehead against yours, earning himself a soft whimper from the absence of warmth. He began gliding his thumb along your thigh while lifting your chin up so that you were making eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry y/n, I’m so fucking sorry for having to put you through all of that for the last year but I’m so grateful for each and every single sacrifice you’ve made for me. You’re way more than just a friend to me baby, I thought it was obvious with the way I have to constantly be kissing these pretty lips of yours and the way I always need you around. If you were just a friend, I wouldn’t be calling you and checking up on you every day. You wouldn’t be on my mind the first thing when I wake up and right before I go to bed and I know it’s my fault for not telling you how I feel but I’m telling you now, I’m crazy about you. I was always yours y/n, always. You mean everything to me y/n and you know what? I love you. I love you so much y/n and I plan on loving you for a very long time. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, I don’t care about the repercussions or what punishment I get for this, but please be my girlfriend. I’ll do anything to be yours completely.” 

With the way he was looking at you, as if you were the one who set the entire universe in to the sky, you were putty in his hands. You never said it out loud, but this is what you’ve wanted from the time that Mark stumbled in to your life. Because you were afraid to come off too forward and selfish, you didn’t tell him that you’d daydream of the day he could finally be able to date you without having to worry about what people or say or do if and when they were to find out. You pulled him closer to your body and hid your face in the crook of his neck. Feeling his heartbeat against your chest made it harder for you to keep the growing smile on your face at bay. You really did love the beautiful boy in front of you. 

“I love you too Mark. I’ve always had these feelings for you and I know they’re not going anywhere. You really are one of the best things that ever happened to me. I want nothing more than to take things further with you. It’s always been you too baby. I’m always going to be here for you.” 

He stole a couple more kisses from the corner of your mouth before picking you up from off of the counter and throwing you over his shoulder. “Mark, what are you doing?!”

“You can’t look that amazing and not expect me to show you exactly what you do to me. I’m gonna make love to my beautiful baby.”

“Mark! At least take me to dinner first before getting in to my pants you ass.”

He playfully slapped your butt before making his way toward your room. “You know babe, our relationship was never normal to begin with so there’s no point in following the rules. I like living dangerously. Forget dinner y/n, I’m going straight for dessert.”

Oh, here I go down that road Again and again the fool rushin' in But I can't help when I feel some kind of way Do you feel the same? 'Cause And I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest I fall for you

Love you gonna get hold on me Tell me what you gonna do to me Now you've gone and got your hands on me Tell me what you gonna doAnd here I go down that road Again and again the fool rushin' in But I can't help when I feel some kind of way Do you feel the same?'Cause I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest Yeah, I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest And I fall for you

[cutiepisenpai]

Gifted part 6

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, No happy ending, Oral sex(Male receiving) vaginal penetration, unprotected sex. graphic crimes. 

***Flashbacks are in italics***

Sirens are roaring in the distance, red stained clothing, blood pools into the grass below. Morgan is kneeling over Y/N trying to apply pressure to the wounds gushing blood. “Just hold on, Y/N help is on the way. Hold on.” Morgan says to an unresponsive Y/N. He looks up to see the ambulance approaching, “OVER HERE!! WE HAVE A FEDERAL AGENT DOWN AND NEED MEDICAL.” Morgan yells to the medics approaching. He looks down to Y/N her eyes start to close, “NO NO! COME ON NOW. KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN. YOU’VE GOT TO STAY AWAKE!.” He shouts. The medics rush over to get her on the gurney and into the ambulance. Morgan climbs in the back with them as they speed off to the hospital. 

Four month earlier: Spencer and Y/N were spending the night separately in their own apartments. Y/N is repacking her go bag enjoying a glass of wine as she dances through her apartment listening to music she knows Spencer doesn’t like when the phone rings. She looks at the caller smiling before answering, “Hello my beautiful buzzy honeybee.” She says into the phone. She is met with a deep sigh, “Why do you call me that?” “Honeybee’s are essential to life and you are essential to mine.” She giggles out. Spencer is happy she wasn’t there to see him blush, he had luckily gotten it under control after the first few weeks of dating. “So you finally take some time to yourself and you what? Want to spend your night on the phone with me?” She asks. “I was reading The Magical Mathematics of Quantum Physics but I kept thinking about you.” He replied. “You know I think about you too when we’re not together but we decided that a night apart would be a good break. You are still welcome to come over if you like. I would come to you but I’m on my second glass of wine.” She says waiting for his response. “No it’s ok I just wanted to hear your voice, I’ll um I’ll see you in the morning right?” “Bright and early, sunshine.” She sings out. “Goodnight my love.” He laughs out before hanging up. The next morning just like she said she picks up Spencer and they head to work. The young couple walks into the office hand in hand, which they have been doing since the team found out about them dating. The team doesn’t have a current case and very little paperwork to get done so they are hanging around the office mostly chit chatting. Spencer, even though he doesn’t need more coffee is on his third cup of the day. Y/N is sitting on his desk talking with JJ and Prentiss when Spencer comes over with his coffee. After he takes a sip and sets it down Y/N picks up the mug taking a quick sip before scrunching her face at the taste, “My god how do you drink that? I think I can feel a cavity forming as we speak.” She chirped. Spencer picks up the cup and takes another sip, “Taste fine to me.” He grins. “Um are you not going to say anything about the amount of germs that spread from you two sharing a drink?” JJ asks. They look at each other before sharing a quick kiss, “I don’t see why that would be a problem with her.” Spencer says smugly. 

Now at the hospital Morgan is pacing back and forth arms and torso covered in Y/N’s blood. The rest of the team has rushed in taking in the scene before them. “What happened? Is Y/N alright?” Spencer is the first person to say anything. “She is in surgery right now and they haven’t told me anything.” Morgan responds. “Morgan what happened at the park you two were supposed to be surveying the dump site?” Hotch asks. “We were, um we got to the park and she was saying there was something strange about the dump site and the unsub that something was off that it didn’t feel right.” Morgan starts thinking back to the earlier events, “ We headed down the ditch where the body was left and Y/N said the staging seemed off. She said she couldn’t figure out exactly what it was but it wasn’t making sense. When we walked back up we were discussing the case. I didn’t even hear the shots the next thing I knew she was on the ground and I was trying to stop the bleeding. I’m sorry Reid.” He tells them. The comment directs the team’s attention to Reid; he jaw is clenched tightly teeth grinding, eyes red and filled with tears refusing to fall. “We are of no use to her here, we need to find the unsub.” Spencer sniffled. 

The team was on the jet flying home from a successful case, Y/N and Spencer had been in a heated argument since the case was solved. “I don’t want to watch Doctor Who. I understand that you and Garcia are fans of it but that doesn’t mean I have to watch it.” Y/N whines while yawning lightly. “It’s a great show, you should at least give it a chance.” Spencer responds. They were sitting side by side with her head on his shoulder still arguing. “Just one episode I promise you’ll love it.” He bargains. “No because I will keep watching it because I love you and have an issue telling you no since you’re so cute.” She says deep yawn coming out afterward. Spencer smiles at how adorable she is. “It will be fun Garcia can join and she’ll make it more fun.” “Uh uh and don’t you dare tell her she never gives up she…..” Y/N trails off falling completely asleep on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her shoulder pulling her in closer to him and gently kissing the top of her head. “Oh you two are grossly in love. Get a room.” Prentiss jokingly gags out at them. 

The team is back at Quantico since the original case they were working on was local. “So are we looking for a different unsub or are these two incidents related.” Rossi asks. “If they are related and had something to do with the BAU why would the unsub only choose to shoot Y/N, I was right there they had a clear shot.” Morgan questioned. “Ok if you’re up for it we need to do a cognitive interview and see what Y/N was trying to tell you.” Hotch says. “The case started that morning and we were brought in and briefed. This was the third dumped body found just outside of a park in the DC area. You split us up into teams, me and Y/N were sent to check out the dump site.” Morgan starts by saying. “Okay, so what happened next, I need all the details, even the ones unrelated to the case?” Hotch asks. “On the drive up I was giving her a hard time. You know, asking about how things were going between her and Reid, they are practically attached at the hip these days. “So what’s going on with you two? Getting ready to head down the aisle soon?” Morgan laughed out. “Shush it, we are not there yet don’t try to pressure us into anything.” Y/N retorts. “I’m just saying I’ve seen how he looks at you since day one. I wouldn’t be surprised.” “Oh and how is that?” Y/N asks. “Like you are the answer to life itself. I mean seriously what’s the wait?” “What’s the wait? Are you ready to get married?” Y/N argues. It didn’t seem like much at the time we all know she isn’t very forthcoming with personal information but now I don’t know. When we first got to the park she looked around and said something was wrong. “What was wrong?” Hotch asks. “These are all very remote parks off of hiking trails and in wooded areas, but the bodies were all found relatively fast within a few hours of them dying.” Y/N said as they walked down into the ditch. “I mean look at this it was definitely just a disposal site there is nothing suggesting the victims were killed here.” Y/N adds. “No tire tracks so our unsub has to be physically fit enough to carry a dead body into this ditch.” Morgan said. “So it’s possible our unsub was the person who called in saying he found the body. This is not a well trafficked area and it would be slim chances that the bodies would have been found so quickly.” Y/N said as Morgan helped her out of the ditch. Standing and surveying the surrounding area Morgan turns to look at Y/N and sees as the first shot hits her in the chest, the second in the shoulder and the final shot hits her in the head. Blood sprays as she falls to the ground. It happened so fast I didn’t even hear the gunshot.” Morgan finished explaining tears spouting from his eyes. “This isn’t your fault Morgan, you couldn’t have possibly known what was going to happen.” Hotch says. “I was standing right there and did nothing. If she doesn’t make it. Reid, he’ll never forgive me.” Morgan muttered. “Y/N is a fighter and so long as there is hope we can’t give up.” Hotch says. Spencer had looked through the case file so many times looking for more information hoping to find something, anything really. He was trying to keep it together, to keep his mind off of Y/N for now, if he focused on her, he would be of no use to the team and they needed to find out who did this. 

The team did not have a current case, something they were all thankful for. They had back to back cases for weeks, lucky if they got a few hours to go home before almost immediately being called back in, but today they were catching up on all of the paperwork they had put off over the weeks. The day had been relaxing, as relaxing as paperwork could be but no one was complaining. Y/N had disappeared for a while claiming that she was looking for something related in the archives and Spencer decided to go look for her. Spencer walks in to see Y/N pulling file after file out of the cabinets grumbling to herself. “Hey, I thought you came to get one file what are you doing?” Spencer asks. “Ugh, none of these are in the right place! What is the point of filing them if you’re going to do it wrong?! So now I’m fixing it!” Y/N yelled. Spencer walks up behind her, rubbing her shoulders and moving down to rub down her arms and taking the file out of her hand, tossing it onto the cabinet in front of them. “It’s going to be ok, sweetie.” He says soothingly, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her neck. “Mmm, don’t start that.” She huffs out. “Start what?” He asks, placing more kisses on her neck, “I’m just trying to help you relax.” “Relax huh, if that is what you want then you need to get your lips off of my neck.” She whines. “If you say so.” is all Spencer says before turning her around to face him and pulling her into a kiss. It’s feverish and messy, teeth clacking and panting as he bites down on her lower lip. “We have to stop… anyone can walk in.” She moans out. Spencer attaches his lips to the junction on her neck biting down and sucking hard making her whine and moan loudly. She is tugging on his shirt when he abruptly moves away. With a smirk on his face, “We should get back to work before someone comes looking for us.” Y/N rolls her eyes grabbing the file she originally came in to get. “Hey wait.” She says to Spencer pulling him back towards her. He looks at her questioningly waiting to see what she is going to say next. “That was not very nice of you, honeybee.” She says while pulling him back towards her, she reaches up to caress his cheek before bringing her hands back down and readjusting his tie. “I’ll get you back for that later, you’ll never see it coming.” They leave the archive room walking back into the bullpen when Morgan pokes at Y/N’s neck stating, “Hmm, did you two have fun in there? You didn’t have that when you left.”  

The team had received little information on Y/N’s condition from the hospital; so far what they had heard was that the bullets in her chest and shoulder had been successfully removed and they were still working on the one in her head. “So there is information on the bullets that Y/N was shot with.” Rossi says, pausing to look at Reid before continuing, “The bullets used were .338 Lapua Magnum and they had her first and middle name engraved in the bullet.” Rossi finished. “A sniper?” Spencer asks. “Those rounds are common among military snipers,”Morgan adds. “There is more to it, there is something you all don’t know about Y/N.” Hotch tells the team, “Something like what?” Prentiss asks. “Before Y/N came to the BAU she worked with the DoD (Department of Defense).” Hotch says, “Yea we know, when she first started Garcia looked into her.” JJ says. “We know that but even you don’t have access to what’s inside those DoD files. What you hear here right now does not leave this room. Y/N worked specifically for the NSA. Her work with the NSA included the creation of specific programs that can be used to spy on citizens. Alongside that she also for a short period of time was a sniper with the NSA. There are no specifics on her work, none of us have clearance for that and she is not permitted to speak on any of this.” Hotch finished saying. The team is silent, still taking in the information. “So you’re telling us this for a reason?” Morgan asks “When Y/N was working as a sniper she had a very specific way of taking down a target. She used .338 Lapua Magnum bullets and she hit every target in their joints to insure survival so they can be interviewed later on. So this looks personal. I think that the unsub had encountered her beforehand and killed those other people to get us to come out until he could get a shot in and in this case it worked.” Hotch explained. “But if this has to do with her work at the NSA what can we do? They aren’t going to give us any information.” Prentiss asks, “We just have to work with the bit of information that we do have.” 

Spencer and Y/N were on a hill of a local park. Spencer had set up a night time picnic for them. They laid on the blanket looking up towards the sky, they had binoculars as they looked at the night sky. “So of course we have Ursa Minor by far the easiest constellation to find.” Y/N says looking up at the night sky. “And there is Regulus leading into Leo” She said next. “Stargazing was a good idea. You look so beautiful in the moonlight.” Spencer says, smiling at her. She puts down the binoculars to look over to him reaching out and running a hand through his hair. “This was a nice change of pace. We are practically inside all of the time nowadays.” She says The moment is nice it is as if time stills. They scooch in close to one another kissing as they lay on the blanket. The moment is sweet but ends quickly when a bug lands near Y/N causing her to jump and screech fleeing from the bug. Spencer wants nothing more than to come to her rescue but her reaction is so endearing and he just lays there and laughs. She picks up a pillow to wack him with, “It’s not funny Spence!” She yells. He stands up to hug her, “I know I’m sorry. We can pack up and go home.” They drive back to Spencer’s apartment to retire for the night. After showering they climb into bed. “Are you wearing my shirt?” Spencer asks even though it is obvious. “Yes, it smells like you. If you want it back by all means.” She says with a wink. Grabbing the back of her thigh and pulling her legs to wrap them around his waist. “You’re so beautiful you know that.” He says. Y/N wraps her arms around his neck, “I love you.” she whispers. “I love you too.” Spencer whispers back before taking her lips into his kissing her passionately. His hands run under the shirt and her back gently caressing her sides. Y/N tightens her legs around Spencer flipping them so that she was now straddling his hips. She leans down sucking on his neck leaving a bruise in her wake. She raked her hands down his chest reaching the hem of his shirt and pulled back taking the shirt to pull off of his body. Y/N kisses all over his chest, light gentle kisses trailing down to his happy trail. “So are you up for something more?” She says between kisses. He looks down making eye contact groaning at the sultry look in her eyes and nods. She taps his thigh signalling him to raise his hips so she can pull off his pajama pants along with his boxers. Laying herself between his thighs she kisses the tip of his semi-hard cock making his breath hitch. Wrapping her lips around the head and sucking gently until he becomes fully erect. She continues to tease him pulling off of him before licking down the underside of his cock and coming back up tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. “Stop teasing. Y/N” Spencer moans out gripping her hair in his hands. 

She wrapped her lips around the tip again, tongue swirling and she bobbed down engulfing him inch by inch. She moaned the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Heat took over her body arousal soaking the thin cotton panties she wore. She swallowed the last few inches before she felt tightness in her throat causing her to gag. “Can’t take it?” He challenges laughing. She squeezed her thumb before surging forward taking all of him in hallowing her cheeks and sucking hard receiving a strangled noise and he bucks his hips up into her mouth. She pulls up sucking the entire way before pulling off with a pop. Spencer’s chest is heaving as he pants. Y/N had slid off her panties but kept his shirt on when she climbed back onto the bed. Spencer who has caught his breath is now sitting up back against the headboard licking his lips at the sight before him. Y/N gets to the head of the bed and straddles his lap once again scooting close to him but not touching. “Tell me honeybee what is it that you want?” she says as she runs her hands through his hair brushing it back. He grabs at the hem of the shirt she is wearing pulling it up off of her. Reaching out to take a nipple between two fingers pinching and rolling the nub eliciting a moan from her, “I want you to ride me, kitten.” She surges forward to kiss him and when she does he lifts her hips up bringing her closer to his cock rubbing between her slick folds. She lowers herself down on him, a muffled groan into his mouth. She raises herself up before lower back down again setting a steady pace. Spencer pulls on Y/N’s hair exposing her neck to him and he latched on suckling leaving a bruise. She reached between them rubbing circles on her clit. It wasn’t long before she quickened the pace and tilted her head back in ecstasy panting roughly with each thrust. She can feel her orgasm rapidly advancing. “I’m close” She whispers in Spencer’s ear putting an arm around his neck desk pulling them chest to chest. Spencer begins thrusting upwards meeting Y/N’s thrusts feeling his orgasm close approaching. He digs his fingers into her hips lost in pleasure. He can feel her walls squirming around him and with a few more thrust he leans in for an open mouth kiss as she cries out her orgasm ripping through her body. Her body trembles and shudders sending Spencer over the edge as he releases his cum into her eager hole. Deep inhales and exhales are heard as they come down from their collective high foreheads touching. Y/N pulls off Spencer laying down on her side facing him. He reaches over gently pushing her wet bangs out of her eyes. He looks into her eyes, always bright but he can see the glazed over dew before they flutter shut and she drifts peacefully to sleep. Spencer awakes the next morning bright sunlight shining through the windows. He looks down to see Y/N asleep on his chest, her hair is a mess but to him she is gorgeous. He kisses the top of her head, “Good morning love.” He says voice horse. She turns and her eyes open before immediately shutting back closed wincing at the sunlight. “Shush, go back to sleep.” She says groggily. 

The team has not been able to find any new information on the unsub. There was no evidence left at the park crime scene suggesting that anyone had ever been there. They even tried to talk with NSA but if they had any information at all they weren’t offering any assistance. Hitting wall after wall Hotch sent Garcia and Reid back to the hospital to wait and hear about Y/N. Hours later a woman in scrubs came out to speak with them. Her face was red and her eyes looked as if she was trying not to cry. “Dr. Reid, Agent Garcia. I’m Dr. Y/L/N I’m Y/N’s mother.” They knew her mother was a surgeon at this hospital but none of them thought she would be the one performing the surgery. “We got the last bullet out and intracranial pressure is coming down. But she is still unresponsive.” She explains. “So what does that mean? Is she okay?” Garcia asked. “The bullet tore through her frontal lobe. As of right now we don’t know what is going to happen. It could be a day, it could be a week. There was a lot of damage at this point and she is lucky to be alive.” She sobs out. This information is the dam that breaks Reid, tears uncontrollably flowing from his eyes as Garcia hugs him in an attempt to comfort him. Days had passed and the case ran cold, no new leads, nothing to connect the unsub. Spencer spent every chance he could visiting Y/N at the hospital. She hadn’t shown any signs of waking soon, but Spencer spent his time with her talking and reading hoping that it brought her comfort. A week later while the team was dejectedly filing the paperwork from the case they were working when Y/N got shot since there were no new leads they were told they had to move on and take a new case until new evidence presented itself. Reid is sitting at his desk, he would only talk if someone started a conversation with him. Garcia had been trying to keep his spirits up bringing him colorful figurines from her office and placing them around his desk. He is sitting at his desk staring off into nothingness when he hears the phone ring. “Dr. Spencer Reid” he grumbled into the phone. There was a nurse on the other side of the phone informing him that Y/N is awake. He jumps from his seat rushing out of the door telling no one where he is going. Arriving at the hospital he dashes down the halls towards Y/N’s room and when he opens the door and sees her sitting up, eyes open he runs over and throws his arms around her. “I’m so glad you’re awake.” He whispers. It wasn’t until he pulls back and makes eye contact that he realizes something is wrong. She smiles at him but it’s not the smile he knows, “Um hi.” She says, sounding confused. He doesn’t get a chance to ask her anything before, “Do I know you?” and those four words break his heart.   

[poguesofthebau]

Idea to write for OBX!!!! The pogues just having a good evening together, like playing truth or dare like 16 year olds before the events of the show take place!!

heyo all, writing is hard for me recently so i decided that i would do something based off what real life is like right now with a lil inspo from this request tossed in :) hope you like it!! (naturally, reader is dating jj in this bc i can’t help myself hehe oops)

summary: jj, y/n, and the rest of the pogues (including sarah) live in the world we’re all currently living in: quarantine. so what happens when the craziest friend group in the obx are trapped inside the Chateau for weeks at a time without any authority figures or outsiders? to put it simply, anarchy happens. (alternate summary: what i wish i was doing during this stupid quarantine instead of sitting in my room to avoid my parents’ hovering.) (alternate, simple summary: a hot ass day in quarantine with the pogues.) word count: 2101

sticky. why the hell were you sticky?

you opened your eyes with a deep groan, peeling yourself from jj with a disgusted look on your face. “jj, get off of me.” you’d both been laying on your stomachs as you slept, but the boy had somehow wound up directly on top of you. it would’ve been kind of endearing, cute almost, to wake up so close to jj, if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

someone across the room laughed lightly, and you slipped out from under jj and flipped onto your back, sitting up and squinting to see who it was. when you saw sarah, kie, and pope staring at you from the table a few feet away from the pull-out couch, you let out an annoyed puff of air, raking a hand through your bedhead to slightly calm it. leaning back on your hands, you glanced back down at your boyfriend. his nose was scrunched up, and his hand started rustling around the sheets until it made contact with your right calf. satisfied, his face relaxed again. before you could look back to your friends, pope was speaking. “i don’t know how the two of you managed to sleep like that all night. with those body temperatures combined, i’m pretty sure you should’ve burst into flames by like, 2am.”

“c’mon, pope,” sarah smirked. “they’re in love. their feelings for each other, they’re hotter than anything. like, hotter than--”

“hotter than the flames in hell!” kie interrupted proudly. “and the obx may feel like it’s hotter than that already, but--”

“nothing compares to their sacred, burning love.” sarah and kie both smiled smugly at their own ability to finish each other’s sentences, fist bumping as pope shook his head. “that was good. i love us.” the girls giggled again, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“can you corny fucks shut the hell up? a guy can never get a wink of sleep around here, shit.” with that, jj was rolling over, too, a very unimpressed look plastered on his face as he scolded his friends. not as eager to be awake as you had been, jj groaned as he stretched, flopping into your lap on his back when he was finally done waking himself up. your hands naturally found their way to his hair, scratching at his scalp subconsciously as you looked around at the mess of the Chateau. “where’s jb at? and why is it so fucking hot in here?”

“you can’t really complain about body temps when you’re curled up in your girlfriend’s lap like a cat, bro,” pope pointed out. jj rolled his eyes as pope continued. “but since you asked so nicely, it’s the first heat wave of the year-- you’d know that if you ever listened to anything i say throughout the day. john b’s out trying to get food and water and stuff before it’s all gone.”

jj muttered something under his breath about wishing pope had gone out with their other friend as his eyes closed again at the feeling of your fingertips on his hairline. “you know what we should do today?”

“make out? at least let me brush my teeth first, you animal,” jj interjected. you flicked his nose, ignoring the comment otherwise. “oh, so you don’t wanna make out? alright, y/n, but just remember, it’s your rule!”

“jj, why does everything always have to be about you?”

“i have needs, kie!”

“okay, okay, okay, i think y/n had an idea. let the woman speak!” sarah quickly redirected.

“thank you,” you smiled pointedly at sarah. “i think-- and tell me if there are any objections-- i think, maybe, we should day-drink.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, the door beside you was swinging open with a creak, john b bursting into the room. “did someone say-- DAY-DRINK?” he held up a six pack of beer in each hand, that bright and proud john b grin plastered on his face. the entire group cheered, jumping up to help him bring in the groceries he’d gotten his hands on. “thanks to mr. c’s non-existent credit card limit, we are now loaded. thanks kie!” he tossed her dad’s card back on the table, the curly haired girl laughing at his words. kiara had somehow convinced her parents that spending her quarantine with the pogues at john b’s house was an acceptable idea, and they had even given her an emergency credit line for necessities and necessities only.

beer was an absolute need for the pogues, to be fair.

----

a few hours later, everyone was pretty day-drunk, so to speak.

sarah was currently engaged in a deep conversation with pope about why, exactly, he wanted to be a coroner so badly. you were in the middle of an arm-wrestling tournament against john b, with jj and kie passing the group’s second blunt of the afternoon back and forth. “y/n, your hand is fucking slippery!”

“fuck you, john b! it’s sweaty! haven’t you noticed that it’s a million damn degrees in this place?”

the arm wrestling tourney came to a close soon after, and the group went back to sweating, smoking, and throwing back beers. your feet wound up in jj’s lap as you tried to fan yourself with an empty, folded up cardboard box that one of the six-packs had come in. “hey kie, do you think your dad would mind if we used his credit card to buy a decent air conditioning system for this shithole? no offense, john b.”

“actually, y/n, i kind of take offense to that. just a little, you know?” you stuck your tongue out at your friend, throwing your piece of cardboard at him.

“you know, guys,” sarah spoke up. “me and my sister used to play this game--”

“oh, sarah, please tell me it’s not truth or dare with no dare.” john b’s face twisted into disapproval, and it was sarah’s turn to stick her tongue out at him.

“it is truth or dare with no dare, and i don’t hear any better ideas from anyone else, so we’re playing.”

jj’s hand came down on your ankle as he sat up and looked at the other blonde of the group. “actually, i’m thinking me and y/n will just roll another blunt and go hide in the guest room. that would be a better idea, i think.”

“no way, dumbass! if we have to do it, you two are sticking around for it too. pogues never abandon pogues, remember?” kie and her rules. “so, who starts?”

“well usually when i’ve played before it’s only been two people, so maybe i’ll ask the first question and we can all go around and answer?” jj groaned at this new development, causing you to smile. you flopped around on the futon a bit until your side was pressed against his, and he threw his arm around your shoulders once you’d settled. “okay, first question. um, let’s see... i don’t know. what’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?”

----

“weirdest place you’ve ever had sex. three, two, one, go!” jj pointed to john b, and the entire group erupted into laughter. john b was clearly struggling to think of an answer, and jj, who had become strangely invested in hour-long game, was running out of patience. “c’mon, man!”

“jesus christ, jj, i don’t know!” john b choked out through his laughs. “a bell tower, i guess?”

“great! sarah? where’ve ya done it, kook princess?” that one earned a smack on the arm from you, and jj quickly rephrased. “sorry! i meant, uh, where’ve ya-- i don’t know. just-- what’s your answer?”

sarah glanced between john b and jj, hesitating before she answered. “conveniently enough, my answer is also... a bell tower.”

with the ruckus that answer caused, you weren’t expecting the game to end any time soon.

----

“oh, my god. i finally don’t feel like i’m burning alive anymore.” pope threw his arms victoriously above his head as he made the statement, kie smiling at him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“that’s how fucked the weather’s gonna be forever if humans don’t start taking care of the planet, pope. isn’t that crazy?” pope looked at her and nodded with a slightly terrified look in his eye, not finding the person kie became when drunk completely trustworthy to not flip out on him for his history of littering and excessive plastic use.

“you know, guys,” john b called out, quickly changing the subject. “this is kind of insane.”

“what do you mean, johnny boy? what’s so insane about a heat wave?” your head was pretty much buried in jj’s chest as you spoke, with his hands slowly tracing big circles in your back. the last blunt of the night had just been smoked, and it was hitting you both a little harder than the others had. for the past few minutes, you’d been thinking about you and jj finally making your way to the guest room for the more intimate one-on-one time that the weed had made you crave. as soon as he’d put the roach down, you’d crawled into his lap. the temperature had dropped reasonably, and the sticky feeling you’d experienced that morning was now completely out of the picture. your left hand was wrapped around jj’s neck, your right just hidden under his shirt as your thumb stroked back and forth just above his hip. jj had watched you nuzzle into that position through hooded red eyes with a little amused smile playing his lips, before returning the physical affection by sliding one hand reassuringly onto the back of your neck and letting the other draw shapes into your back.

by the time john b had finished gazing around lovingly at the group before answering, you had almost forgotten about having asked a question to begin with. “not the heat wave, y/n.” his correction reminded you of what the conversation had been, and your tilted your head up to make eye contact with jj. when you locked eyes, you knew jj was thinking the same thing as you: john b’s about to get corny and emotional. and you were both right. “seriously, look at us. isn’t this crazy?” you and jj smiled at each other, and you placed a loving kiss on his jawline before refocusing your sight on john b. “how did we all end up together? i mean, three losers who met in elementary school,” john b listed, looking to you and jj with a bright smile as you felt jj squeeze your neck lightly. “a weird kid who, for some reason, is totally obsessed with dead bodies and shit,” pope looked a john b awkwardly as kie giggled, slipping her hand into pope’s. “and a couple of fucking kooks.” sarah hummed from her spot next to john b, kie sarcastically saluting with her free hand. “you guys, somehow, we all got together, all found each other. what are the odds of that? what are the odds that we found this totally perfect, totally dysfunctional but perfect little family?”

before you could stop yourself, you felt the first tear slip down your face. “fuck you, john b,” you muttered quietly, taking your hand out from under jj’s shirt to swipe at the wetness on your face. scrubbing away the rest of the tears in your eyes before they could escape, you put your hand back down on jj’s arm this time.

“yeah, fuck you, john b. why you makin’ my girl cry, bro?” everyone chuckled softly, admiring each other in the moment. “alright, though, really. since she’s already crying, i guess i should say it now.” your head lifted back up to look at jj, and he looked back down at you as he continued. “i love you.” as you both broke into smiles, he looked back to your friends. “i love all of you guys. you’re all annoying as fuck, and i know i live for giving you all a hard time and stuff. but seriously. this is my family. pogues forever.”

“shit,” kie muttered this time, her thumb swiping under her own eyes as pope looked down at her adoringly. “pogues forever, guys. thank you for taking in us stupid kooks and letting us be who we are. pogues for-fucking-ever.”

“as corny as it sounds, i feel like we’re kind of required to group hug now,” pope added. “everybody up! i love you sickos and psychos, criminal records and all!”

and then, you all hugged the shit out of each other. pogue style.

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Paint

Chapter 26 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is up!

In which Felassan reveals yet another hobby. 😂 Featuring gorgeous art this week by @elbenherzart​!!

~8100 words; read on AO3 instead.

The following days were a buzz of activity for Tamaris and Felassan. Gone was the lazy flow of leisurely-executed activities that had previously characterized their time; now, it almost felt to Tamaris like there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything they wanted to do. 

Their morning sparring sessions were becoming longer and more strenuous as Felassan’s grasp of his magic grew. He switching between types of magic now in his attacks, transitioning from fire to lighting to ice to raw Fade strikes while using barriers to repel Tamaris’s blows, and by the time they finished their sparring these days, they were often too fatigued to fuck right afterwards like they’d been doing when his magical control was more modest.

Outside of their sparring sessions, Felassan kept working on his magic by himself. He tinkered with Dorian’s crystals and pored through the few tomes on magic that he’d found in the mansion’s library, as well as a few tomes that Varric had given him from the stock that was salvaged from the Gallows during the Kirkwall Uprising. Dorian was sending a selection of more complex books from Tevinter, and until they arrived, Felassan cheerfully made fun of the Chantry-based books he did have access to, even as he read them. 

While Felassan was working on his magic, Tamaris worked on getting herself back up to speed about current events happening in Thedas and what the other branches of the wolf hunt were doing. They sat together in the study, Felassan working at the desk while Tamaris spread her papers and reports across the couch and floor, and they frequently made snarky comments to each other about what they were reading. Although it wasn’t pleasant to be so busy again, Tamaris had to admit that it was nice to have a constant companion who was working just as hard as she. 

One day, Tamaris looked up from one of Leliana’s coded letters to find Felassan leaning back against the desk with his arms folded and a pensive frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He met her eye. “That piece of ironwood I gave you. Can I have it?”

Her eyes widened. He’d given her his piece of ironwood so long ago now that she’d been half-wondering if he’d forgotten about it. “Of course,” she said, and she stood from the couch. “What are you — are you going to make a staff with it?”

“I’m going to try,” he said.

“That’s great!” she exclaimed. “That’s – I’ll go get it right now.” She ran upstairs to her bedroom and pulled the short length of ironwood out of her dresser. 

It was wrapped in a fine silk scarf Josephine had given her. She carefully unwrapped it, then ran back downstairs and held it out to Felassan.

He smiled faintly as he took it. “Why do I get the impression that you’re more excited about this than I am?”

“It is exciting,” she insisted. “You’re going to… I mean, I don’t really know what you’re going to do, but you’re going to try and make this into a staff! That means you feel pretty confident that you can do it, right?”

“I’m reasonably confident that I won’t blow up the house while trying,” he said wryly.

She frowned. “Come on, Felassan, don’t be so down on yourself. You’ve got so much more control than you did a month ago.” Just this morning, they’d been discussing the possibility that he shouldn’t spar with her anymore out of concern that he might harm her, since his attacks were surpassing the bounds of her barriers to repel him.

“True,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I am close to what I used to be.” He twirled the ironwood in his fingers and gave her a knowing look. “Using magic in this time truly is a matter of control and skill, you know. The feeling of magic being like a second seamless heartbeat really was an artifact of my time. Waking up in this time was like… like having to learn to speak again. Conscious manipulation of a skill I once took for granted.” He gestured at himself. “This relearning is like doing that all over again, but even more difficult since I can’t do what I intend to do.”

“You couldn’t before,” she said emphatically. “Now you can.”

He shrugged. “I can sometimes.”

She frowned more deeply. “Most of the time. You do what you mean to do three-quarters of the time now.”

He smirked. “Have you been keeping a ledger of my progress that I don’t know about?”

“I’m proud of you, okay?” she blurted.

He raised his eyebrows, and she hunched her shoulders defensively. “I’m just… You thought you might not recover anything when you first got here. You’ve come a long way.”

His expression softened with fondness. “I haven’t tried to do anything particularly complex. Certainly nothing as complex as making a staff.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “Just try, and if you can’t do it right away, keep trying. You’ll get it.”

His smile widened. “Look at you, being all optimistic. If not for your scowl, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”

She scoffed and gently shoved his chest. “Go make your staff, you brat. I’ve got reports to read.” She started back toward the couch, but Felassan grabbed her hand before she could get very far.

He pulled her close and stroked the metal joint of her left wrist. “Ise inor vhenan. Do you know what this means?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “‘Heart of fire’?” she said hesitantly.

“‘Fire in the heart,’ yes,” he said. “It’s an Elvhen term for someone who refuses to give up, even when the odds are stacked against them.” He smiled faintly. “Determination to the point of stubbornness.”

“Uh-huh,” she said flatly. “You’re calling me the stubborn one here, I guess?”

His smile widened. “I’m saying you are the fire in my heart, Tamaris. And I appreciate your stubborn reminders that I am, in fact, getting better.”

Her belly burst into giddy butterflies. The fire in my heart... 

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a stupid grin from spreading across her face. She gave him a chiding look instead. “Now who’s trying to seduce whom?”

His smile curled with mischief, and he tipped her chin up with a gentle finger. “Not when you have so many fascinating reports to read,” he murmured. He placed a sweet kiss on her lips, and for a blissful moment, she melted helplessly into his kiss.

He leaned away from her with a smile, and Tamaris grinned goofily at him before tottering back to her spot on the couch. Felassan chuckled and returned to his desk, and it was with a light and happy heart that Tamaris returned to her pile of reports.

Their evenings were spent with Varric and Dorian discussing the ways they could use Felassan’s information to benefit the wolf hunt. Tamaris felt that getting in touch with the Grey Wardens’s commanders should be a top priority. “We should be telling them not to kill the last two archdemons, right?” she said one night as they gathered at the dining table with Dorian’s crystal. “They should know the archdemons might be guarding against the Blight, so if anything, the Wardens should be protecting the archdemons from being found by the darkspawn.” Based on the information that Felassan had outlined, they had come to the conclusion that events like the Fifth Blight happened when the darkspawn infected the archdemons, and not that the archdemons were galvanizing the darkspawn into action like everyone seemed to think.

Felassan shrugged. “It probably would be ideal for them to stop attacking the archdemons, yes.”

“But you don’t think they’ll stop,” Varric said.

Felassan smiled faintly. “I think they have several centuries’ worth of evidence that killing archdemons coincides with the end of a Blight event, and no reason to accept the hypothesis of a random elf.”

“Well, we still have to try,” Tamaris retorted.

“I am not saying not to try,” Felassan said. “But I also think it might be worth launching our own independent ventures to find the archdemons.”

Varric grimaced. “That’s a pretty ambitious undertaking, Jester.”

“True,” Felassan said casually. “You could also speak to individual lower-ranking Wardens rather than approaching their commanders.”

Dorian’s voice floated up from the crystal. “Why shouldn’t we try and approach the Warden-Commanders?”

“People in charge are usually disinclined to listen to strange ideas,” Felassan said. “They’re considerably more skeptical than the average person. The more experience they have, the more convinced in their rightness — and the more closed-off — they tend to be.”

Varric chuckled. “Not a fan of authority figures, are you?”

Felassan widened his eyes. “I respect authority figures deeply. That doesn’t mean I listen to them or follow what they say.”

Tamaris snorted with amusement. Felassan smiled at her, then casually waved his hand. “Anyway, we should start looking for stray lower-ranking Wardens. Not only might they be more open-minded, but they could lead us to Weisshaupt, if that’s still where you think the Wardens are gathering.”

Varric scribbled a memo in his notebook. “All right. More efforts to find the Wardens. Any other thoughts?”

 Dorian spoke up. “I was thinking about the fact that Solas has so much knowledge at his disposal now, with those two other souls piggybacking on his body. It certainly puts us at a disadvantage, but he’s not the only person we know whose head is stuffed with ancient knowledge.”

Tamaris nodded ruefully; she’d been thinking the same thing. “You mean Morrigan.”

 “Yes,” Dorian said. “We should try and get her assistance. There must be information from the Well of Sorrows that can benefit us.”

She ran her hand slowly through her hair. When Dorian spoke again, his voice was gentle, as though he could see her reluctance. “I know you wanted to let her raise Kieran in peace, but if Solas drops the Veil, there will be nowhere safe left for them to live. Or any of us, for that matter.”

“No, I know. You’re right.” Tamaris sighed and lowered her hand. “How should we even go about trying to find her? She doesn’t care about keeping in touch with anyone.”

Varric tapped his quill idly on his notebook. “The Hero of Ferelden would be a good bet. Nightingale said she and Morrigan were close back in the day.”

Tamaris frowned. “That was over ten years ago. And isn’t Mahariel already going off to spy on the qunari?”

“She’d have time to send a letter,” Varric said reasonably. 

“I guess,” Tamaris said, somewhat reluctantly. She still felt guilty about the Hero of Ferelden doing so many tasks for the wolf hunt after everything she’d already done for Ferelden, but no one seemed to have any choice about getting pulled into all of this. 

“Okay,” Varric said as he took another note. “Get the hero to write to the swamp witch.” He looked up at Felassan and Tamaris. “Any other ideas?”

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about, actually,” Tamaris said. She gave Felassan a critical look. “The Well of Sorrows. The fact that it even existed and that Mythal had warriors who were bound to her will. Don’t you think that’s fucked up?”

He pulled a little face. “It’s not a fate I would ever choose, that’s for certain.”

“So why did she make anyone choose it?” Tamaris demanded. “Why make anyone be bound to her will?”

“Remember that the Sentinel order arose around the time that the Evanuris were all starting to war with each other,” Felassan said. “In retrospect, I wonder if the rising of the Sentinels might have been the first sign that Mythal was worried she would be betrayed. An order of warriors who are bound to your will means they can’t betray you, not even if you die. Allegedly die, that is,” he added.

Tamaris folded her arms. In her opinion, that was no excuse. “What did Solas think of the Sentinels when Mythal started recruiting them?” she asked.

Felassan grimaced again. “He was… conflicted,” he said slowly. “On the one hand, Abelas and the others were willingly giving themselves into Mythal’s will, so technically they were submitting to her by choice. But by submitting to her, they were effectively making themselves her slaves.” Felassan twisted his lips ruefully. “It certainly kept him up at night, even if he didn’t speak against her outright.”

Tamaris relaxed slightly at this. “It didn’t seem to sit right with him when we were there, either.” 

Felassan nodded and gave her an appraising look. “You never considered drinking from the Well, did you?”

“I mean, sure, I considered it for a second,” she said. “Until Solas refused point-blank to drink from it. If he was saying no, then I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do it.”

Felassan snorted a laugh. “Wise of you to follow his example. It would be a very different Tamaris sitting before us now if you had drunk from the Vir’Abelasan.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here at all, if Solas really is hosting Mythal.”

Tamaris frowned, but Dorian filled in his unspoken thoughts. “Fasta vass. You think he would have taken control of Tamaris via Mythal?”

Tamaris’s guts went cold at the thought, and Felassan’s answer only discomfited her more. “It’s possible,” he said.

“So that means Morrigan could be in trouble now, then,” Tamaris said tensely. “And Kieran too.”

“Also possible,” Felassan said.

“Shit. Fuck.” She ran her hands through her hair, then gestured at Varric’s notebook. “Write that down. Trying to find her should be a priority.”

“Fen’Harel won’t kill them, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Felassan said. 

Varric gave him a skeptical look. “If he’s willing to bring the Veil down on us, he’s probably not too concerned about killing one woman and her kid.”

“It’s not like that,” Tamaris said. “Solas doesn’t want to kill more people than he has to.” 

Varric looked at her in surprise, and Dorian sounded surprised as well when he replied. “That almost sounded like you’re defending him.”

“She’s not defending him,” Felassan said. “She’s just explaining him.”

She looked up to find Felassan smiling at her. But instead of smiling back, she frowned. “Can you explain something to me? Why did he trust her?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Who, Morrigan?”

She gave him a chiding look. “No. Mythal. She was so fucking shady. The dwarf stuff, the Well of Sorrows stuff, hiding her dragon without telling him so he thought she was dead, not to mention how smug and bitchy she was when I met her, and all the shitty things Morrigan said about being raised by her. How could Solas have trusted her?”

His smile began to melt into that look of anachronistic melancholy that made Tamaris’s heart twist. “I don’t know if it is possible to explain the strength of the ties that exist between them,” he said quietly. “Can any of us even imagine the depth of love that could develop between two beings who have known each other for several thousand years? Solas knew Mythal since he was barely more than a wisp. She was one of the main sources of pride that fed and fostered him before he became an elf. She shaped him in ways that none of us can fully understand. Even if he later realized that some of her proudest achievements were terrible mistakes, the depth of his devotion to her would have made him incapable of seeing her as truly flawed.”

Dorian hummed an acknowledgement. “Love is blind, hm?”

Varric grunted. “It’s a literary cliché for a reason.”

“It really is,” Felassan said. His tone was jocular, but his smile was wry and sad.

Tamaris reached over and squeezed his thigh. Then Varric snapped his fingers. “Hey, that reminds me. I was thinking about the whole Mythal-hiding-her-dragon thing the other day, and I thought, uh… well, what if Mythal’s dragon really is dead?”

Felassan straightened in his chair. “Interesting. Then how do you propose that she survived?”

Varric put his quill down. “Well, Hawke had this amulet that Flemeth told her to take to the Dalish. She took it to our friend Merrill’s clan, and Merrill did some kind of ritual, and Flemeth popped out of the amulet like… like, uh…”

“Like magic?” Dorian suggested wryly.

Varric laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Obviously.”

Dorian chuckled, but to Tamaris’s surprise, Felassan just stared at Varric without laughing.

“Felassan, what’s wrong?” she asked.

He continued to stare at Varric. “Why didn’t you mention this the other day when I was talking about the dragons?”

Varric shrugged. “I didn’t think of it then.”

“I wish you had,” Felassan said. “That changes everything. If Mythal’s dragon truly was killed, but she had another piece of her life essence stored in an amulet…” He trailed off, then snorted a sudden little laugh. “Amulets are far easier to hide than dragons, you know.”

Varric shrugged and picked up his quill. “I mean, I could be wrong. You can read The Tale of the Champion yourself and see what you think.”

“You should read it, actually,” Tamaris piped in. “There’s more detail in there about Merrill and her eluvian, too.” She turned to Varric. “It’s the same eluvian that gave the Hero of Ferelden the blight, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Daisy said,” Varric replied.

Felassan looked at him sharply. “What do you mean, an eluvian gave the Hero of Ferelden the blight?” he said sharply.

Varric tilted his head in an equivocal gesture. “Well, maybe it didn’t directly give Mahariel the blight, especially if only living stuff can have the blight. But it was definitely involved, from what Daisy told us.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, eluvians aren’t alive, are they?”

“No, they’re… they’re not alive,” Felassan said numbly. He kept staring at Varric in a stunned sort of way that made Tamaris nervous.

She tapped his thigh. “Felassan, are you–?”

He suddenly burst out laughing — a distinctly hysterical-sounding laugh. Tamaris shifted closer to him and held out her hand, and he grabbed it as he dragged in a breath. 

She squeezed his fingers. “Just breathe,” she said soothingly.

He nodded, then burst out another uncontrolled laugh. “Just when I think I have a grasp on this time, I realize something enormously significant that I missed,” he wheezed.

“What do you think you missed?” Dorian asked.

Felassan giggled before dragging in another calming breath. “An eluvian that’s steeped somehow in the blight makes me think there is a specific place that it was keyed to access. A place that was so catastrophically affected by the blight that the eluvians connected to it might be growing red lyrium.”

Tamaris’s eyes widened. “Arlathan?” she breathed.

Felassan nodded and chuckled, and Tamaris sighed. “Fuck. So we should try and get Merrill somewhere safe too, then.”

Varric sighed. “I hate to tell you this, but I haven’t heard from Daisy in a while.”

Tamaris’s stomach went cold once more. “You think she’s working with Solas?”

Varric twisted his lips sadly. “She’d have good reason to, if he sweet-talked her with stories about the ancient elves.”

Felassan sighed. “That’s good.”

Tamaris frowned at him, affronted. “It’s good? What do you mean, it’s good? One more ally for Solas means one less for us!”

Felassan gave her a chiding look. “It would also mean that an eluvian leading straight to the Black City is under Solas’s control and not, for example, Tevinter’s. Neither is… ideal, but having that eluvian in Tevinter hands is probably worse.” He cocked his head. “Probably.”

“That hurts my feelings slightly,” Dorian said.

Felassan chuckled, then sighed and rubbed his forehead, and Tamaris studied him with a pang of sympathy. He looked so tired. 

She squeezed his hand once more. He gave her a little smile, then squeezed her hand in turn before kicking his feet up on the table. “In any case, I know what’s next on my reading list.” He shot Varric a smirk. “Maybe you should just give me an annotated bibliography of your work so I can catch up on everything I need to know about the last twenty years.”

Varric huffed in amusement. “I guess I could get you a copy of all my works. I am just a humble servant to my loyal readers, after all.”

Felassan smiled at him. “A sweet sentiment. That reminds me, how is your most loyal reader?”

Varric rolled his eyes. “Cassandra’s fine. Yes, I wrote her a smut scene. And no, you can’t read it.”

Dorian burst out laughing while Felassan complained playfully about not being allowed to read Varric’s smut, and Tamaris listened to the three of them faux-bickering with a bittersweet feeling in her chest. 

Later that evening, long after Dorian ended the call and Varric had gone home, Tamaris trudged gloomily back to the study to read some more reports. A minute later, Felassan sidled into the study as well.

He pushed some of her papers aside to sit down beside her, and Tamaris poked him in the arm. “Hey, don’t touch my mess. I have a system.”

He draped his arm over the back of the couch. “You’re not really going to continue working now, are you?”

She scratched her ear. “Well, I — there was one last report I was in the middle of reading, so I just want to finish it.”

“Finish it tomorrow,” he said. 

She gave him a chiding look. “You’re being a brat.”

“And you’re working far too hard for someone who doesn’t actually have anything to do.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Do you have to rub it in? I feel guilty enough already.”

He tilted his head. “You feel guilty staying in this house with me while my magic is too uncontrolled to travel?”

Her eyes widened in dismay. “Wha– no, that’s not what I mean at all!”

“Then why bother feeling guilty?” he asked.

She gazed at him in exasperation. “It’s — I can’t just turn it off, okay? Everyone else is working hard, including you. I need to do something.”

He shrugged. “You can help me with making my staff.”

Her irritation melted into surprise. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said. “You have full control of your magic. It will form a stabilizing influence to help me channel mine into the ironwood.”

She smiled at the thought of helping Felassan with something magical, then wilted slightly. “Are you sure you don’t want Dorian’s help instead? His mana reserves are way stronger than mine.”

Felassan smirked. “Jealous, are you?”

“No, for once,” she said snarkily. “Just being practical.”

His smile widened. “So you admit that you are jealous of my friendship with Dorian.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her half-read report. “Fuck off and let me read my report, will you?”

He chuckled and plucked the papers from her hand. “To answer your question, no. I don’t want his help. Even if he could help via the sending crystal, which he can’t, I would still be asking for your help instead.”

“And why’s that?” she grumbled.

“Because I’ll enjoy feeling the hum of your magic in my fingers when I use the staff,” he replied.

She looked at him with fresh curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll leave a magical signature in the wood if you help me make my staff,” he explained. “It will be an enjoyable feeling when I’m blowing apart our enemies.” 

“Oh,” she said dumbly. His tone was casual, but she couldn’t help but feel oddly flattered that he would want to feel her magical signature during a fight. 

She shyly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, um. Sure, I’d be happy to help.”

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll let you know when I need your hands.”

She blinked in confusion. “Oh, you – you don’t want to do this now?”

“Oh, no,” he said casually. “My experimentation today proved that I need more time to practice the spells for imbuing our signatures into the wood, not to mention tailoring it to the size-modulating spell I’ll be putting on the staff.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Besides, we’re not working anymore tonight.” 

“We’re not, huh?” she said wryly.

“No,” Felassan said. “We’re going to do something fun.”

His tone and the curl of his lips were mischievous, and Tamaris smirked. “Like what?” she said drolly.

His answer surprised her, though. “Like painting the walls.” 

She wilted. “You want to start painting the walls? Now?” She eyed the plain washed walls of the study with some resignation.

“Not those walls, and not that kind of paint,” he said. “Come.” He stood up and held out his hand.

Tamaris sighed and allowed him to pull her up from the couch. He led her to the foyer and jerked his thumb at the east-facing wall of the foyer, which they’d painted a deep peacock blue. “This bores me,” he said. “I think we should paint a mural.”

She balked slightly. “A mural?” Her mind instantly went to the murals Solas had painted on the walls of the rotunda: those huge, floor-to-ceiling works that he’d painted during the year he’d spent by her side — beautiful masterpieces that she’d once considered as tributes to his love for her, but which had later been too painful for her to look at, leading her to avoid the rotunda altogether. 

Felassan, as usual, picked up on her thoughts. He gave her a knowing look. “Not a mural like Fen’Harel’s. Something much simpler and much less planned.” 

Tamaris gave him a cautious look. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing in particular, really,” he said. He looked at the wall and thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I usually just start painting and see where my hands take me.”

She gazed at him with growing confusion. “W-wait. You… do you know how to paint?”

He shrugged. “I have been known to paint sometimes.”

She gaped at him. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe I didn’t want to be made fun of for having yet another hobby.”

She gently punched his arm. “Don’t be stupid! I would never make fun of you for being an artist! Would I have seen anything you painted? In the Vir Dirthara or any ancient temples or anything?” Her eyes widened. “Or — or even at Skyhold?”

He gave her a mischievous grin. “You flatter me by suggesting anything I paint would be worthy of such illustrious locations.”

She eyed him shrewdly. “That's not an answer.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. And you might have seen some of my work, though it would be hard to tell it apart from the work of others.”

“What do you mean?”

He let out a little huff of laughter and rubbed his mouth, as though he was thinking of a private joke. “Did you ever see quick, messy paintings of elven warriors going to battle on halla?”

“Yes, in many places,” she said. She paused, then double-taked at him. “Wait, those were by you?”

“Not just me,” Felassan said. “Fen’Harel’s rebels had a tendency to leave our mark in the places where we foiled our foes.”

Tamaris stared at him, then smiled. “You vandalized the Evanuris’s property while you were freeing their slaves?”

Felassan grinned. “I like to think we improved their decor, much like you and I are doing in this house. Now let’s see how we can improve this wall, why don’t we?” He started opening the pails of paint, then glanced up at Tamaris. “Can you bring some bowls so we can mix the colours?”

“Sure,” she said. She hurried to the kitchen and came back a minute later to find that Felassan had already laid some dropcloths on the floor along the base of the wall.

He gestured to the floor. “Set them here. You don’t mind ruining those bowls with paint, do you?”

“I don’t give a single fuck about these bowls,” she said.

He snickered. “I figured as much.” He poured together some red and yellow paint to make a deep orange shade, then looked up at her as he stirred the paint. “What colours are you in the mood for?”

She blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” he said drolly. “What colours do you want to start with?”

She recoiled. “What? No. I’m not — I’ll just watch.”

He paused in his stirring. “That won’t do. You have to paint.”

She laughed at his bossy tone. “No I don’t. I’ll just watch.” She sat on the carpet and wrapped her arms around her knees, perfectly willing to watch Felassan the way she used to watch Solas during the long nights when he painted his murals.

Felassan gave her a chiding look, then gestured for her to come closer. “Come, avise. Paint with me. You’ll like it.”

She stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t know how to paint.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I knew how to paint before I started vandalizing the Evanuris’s walls?”

“I thought you were ‘improving their decor’, not vandalizing,” Tamaris retorted.

He grinned. “Silly me. Of course that’s what we were doing. Now come, I need your help to improve this wall. What colours do you want to add?”

She gave him a knowing look. “If I touch that wall, I’m going to fuck it up.”

“Anything you do will be an improvement over the wallpaper that was here before,” he said.

She snorted a laugh. “You know what, that’s true.”

He raised his eyebrows hopefully, and Tamaris finally gave in with a sigh. “Fine. How about…” She paused and gazed idly into his expectant violet eyes.

“Purple,” she said. “Mix me up some purple paint.” 

“Purple it is,” he said. He mixed together some red and blue paint and added some white to lighten the shade, then held out the bowl.

She stood up and took the bowl. “I need a brush.”

“Use your fingers,” he said.

She recoiled slightly. This would make an enormous mess if she painted with her hands. “Are you serious?”

“I never joke about vandalism,” he said. “I take it very seriously.”

He was grinning. His eyes were dancing with mischief and he looked so carefree and young, and Tamaris couldn’t help but smile in response to his joy. 

She blew out a breath. “All right, but if it looks really bad, we’re painting over it.” She dipped her fingers in the thick paint, then smeared some of it on the wall. 

She immediately regretted what she’d done. The paint began to run in slow drips, and Tamaris was forced to catch it with her fingers and smear it even more. Exasperated, she started rubbing the paint haphazardly onto the wall until it was a blobby patch of purple.

She threw Felassan an I-told-you-so look. “See? It looks like shit.”

He shook his head. “Keep going,” he said. He was still smiling, and Tamaris gazed at him with rising annoyance.

“Keep going with what?” she demanded. “It’s an ugly smudge.”

“You had something in mind when you started painting,” he said. “Keep going with it.” He picked up the bowl of orange paint, then padded over to the other end of the wall and began dashing the paint onto the wall in quick practiced strokes that clearly told her he’d done this a thousand times.

She sighed, then dipped her fingers in the paint again and kept slapping it haphazardly onto the wall in a series of vaguely rounded irregularly-sized blobs. A few minutes later, she set the bowl down and wiped her hand on the dropcloth before looking over at what Felassan was doing. 

Her eyebrows jumped up. Felassan was painting a series of what looked like stylized orange teardrops that varied in size and shape, but the shifting shades of orange and red and yellow were clearly meant to signify fire. 

She narrowed her eyes. The shifting colours in his painted flamedrops represented such a subtle blend. How was he managing to make the colours meld so seamlessly? He was holding the bowl of orange paint, but the buckets of yellow and red were sitting on the floor a good two metres away from him. 

She stepped away from the wall, and Felassan looked over at her. His gaze darted to the wall, and he smiled. “Clouds,” he said.

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “Really original, I know.”

He gave her a chiding look. “A wise woman once said you shouldn’t be so down on yourself.” He approached her end of the wall and examined her purple smudgy clouds for a second, then dipped his fingers into his bowl of orange paint and added a dash of orange to the underside of each cloud.

Tamaris raised her eyebrows. The orange underline gave the impression that each blobby cloud was lit from below by the setting sun. It was exactly what she’d been thinking of when she started to paint: sitting on the roof with Felassan while the fading light of day lit the clouds aglow from beneath.

She looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows. “Better? Worse?” He smiled faintly. “Did I ruin your artistic vision?” 

She swallowed hard, feeling oddly emotional by his addition. She shook her head. “You un-ruined it,” she said gruffly. 

His smile widened. “Oh good. I’d always dearly hoped to un-ruin something during the course of my life.” 

She scoffed, then nodded her chin at his drops of flame. “What are you doing over there?”

“Sketching,” he said. “Working out an idea.” He nodded at her clouds. “Keep going. Or paint something else.”

She nodded, but as Felassan returned to his side of the wall with his bowl of orange paint, she couldn’t help but watch him instead. He continued painting drops of flame on the wall, then eventually put the orange paint aside and picked up the bucket of green paint instead. He set the bucket on the floor by his feet and started scrawling green shapes on the wall that looked like stylized leaves, and Tamaris was once again awed — and bemused — by how seamlessly he seemed to be blending the orange of the flames into the green of the leaves. 

She watched him with unabashed interest, her own painting endeavours forgotten in favour of watching Felassan instead. He eventually paused and smiled at her. “If you’re going to stare, this really is your chance to paint a picture. The paints are open and everything.” 

She smiled at his cheeky remark. “I’d honestly rather watch,” she said. “I want to see what you come up with.”

He gave her a reproving look, and she waved dismissively. “I mean it. I’ll have more fun watching you than I will with actually painting.”

He frowned at her for a moment longer, then finally shrugged. “All right, but you’re going to start off the next mural. I insist on it.”

She wilted slightly. “The next one?”

He nodded. “We need to cover every wall of this house with filthy knife-ear art.”

Tamaris burst out a laugh. “That would be pretty good revenge for how aggressively Orlesian this house was before we got here.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” he said complacently. “I have always enjoyed exacting petty revenge through the use of paint.”

She beamed at him. “You really are a vandal, you know that?”

He bowed politely to her. “Thank you, Tamaris. That warms my heart.”

She chuckled and settled on the carpet once more. She hadn’t been self-deprecating when she’d told Felassan she wanted to watch him instead of doing the painting. She’d always enjoyed watching artists working on their craft — and one of the artists she’d most enjoyed watching, unfortunately, was Solas.

She’d never seen an artist who worked the way Solas did. Watching him transform the rotunda walls from raw rock to smooth plaster to charcoal sketches and finally to fully-rendered murals had been, in her eyes, its own form of magic. Solas’s careful stepwise method had also been something to marvel at; he always started with a lovingly-crafted small-scale sketch of each design before translating the sketch to the walls in perfect proportion, and the actual painting of the mural was an all-night process that exemplified his focus and methodical devotion to the art. During those all-night painting sessions, Solas was intent and focused and almost completely silent, and Tamaris couldn’t remember a single time when he’d faltered or made a mistake in the execution of his spectacular works.

Watching Felassan paint, on the other hand... truly, it was nothing like watching Solas. Felassan hadn’t planned a thing, opting instead to experiment directly on the walls with his fingers instead of the sorts of fine brushes that Solas used to use. His movements were loose and relaxed and lacking in precision, and he kept jumping between the different elements of the scene he was creating: adding a bunch of those green leaf shapes, then adding some more flames, then swiping a streak of gold in a bold vertical arch through the cluster of flames before starting to add some violet clouds to his end of the mural. He hummed to himself as he worked and made little playful comments to her over his shoulder, and when the occasional drop of paint rolled slowly down the wall from his quick and messy application, he simply blended it back into the wall or painted over it with a new leaf or flame. 

She stared shamelessly at Felassan’s emerging work. His application method appeared slapdash and careless, but the effect was anything but; his work was striking and bold, and to Tamaris’s eye, very appealing. The lines varied from dark saturated lines to graceful faded streaks, giving his mural a dynamic and energetic feel that was more emotion than story, and Tamaris felt energized in turn as she watched him moving from one end of the wall to the other and back. 

The longer he worked, the less he spoke and the more focused he seemed to become, even as his movements remained loose and flowing. He looked incredibly graceful as he moved across the wall, and he was using both hands now to paint, and–

Wait. Both hands? she thought. And with a jolt, she realized that Felassan was no longer holding a bowl of paint in his hand. Even so, the colours continued to flow from his fingers as though he had dipped his fingers into the paint. But how…? 

She narrowed her eyes and watched him more carefully. And eventually, with a rising of wonder, she realized what he was doing. He kept gesturing in the direction of the paints and twisting his wrists as though he was dipping his hands into the paints, and the amount of paint in the buckets and the bowls was actually decreasing in accordance with the movements of his hands. 

It’s magic, she thought in amazement. He’s using magic to pull the paint to his hands and to blend the colours. Her heart was pounding now with excitement at his exquisitely controlled magical feat, but she continued to watch him in silence, unwilling to disturb his flow by commenting on what he was doing. 

He flicked his wrist at the bucket of gold paint, then dragged his fingers in a long horizontal line from the center of the vertical arch and back toward Tamaris’s end of the wall, and Tamaris finally recognized the shape that dominated most of the mural: a stylized bow and arrow, with a background of flames toward the front of the bow that blended into leaves toward the end. Enthralled by his design and by the magical way he was executing it, she wrapped her arms loosely around her knees and continued to watch as he added a silvery-white bowstring, then a purple-silvery arrowhead and purple-and-red fletching to the arrow. 

He stood back briefly to study the design before going over the golden bow and arrow again with a smattering of brown, making the bow and arrow look like a combination of wood and gold. 

He paused again and idly scratched the back of his neck, and Tamaris watched with a swelling of affection as he smeared some paint on his neck. 

He turned to face her then. “Look at me?” he said.

She lifted her eyes to his face, and her breath stalled in her chest; his beautiful amethyst eyes were bright with focus. He studied her face intently for a long second, then nodded and turned back to the wall. He flicked his wrist at the paints, then started painting over the leaves again with a slightly lighter shade of green that blended into a darker green at the edges. 

When he finished re-painting the leaves, he stood back once more and folded his arms as he surveyed his work, and Tamaris stared shamelessly at his handsome profile as he studied the wall. He carelessly flicked his wrist at the paint buckets, then flicked his fingers at the wall, and Tamaris watched as a fine blend of white and bright blue droplets appeared in misty-looking streaks near the upper edge of the bow — a fine blend that would have required painstaking care to paint by hand, but which Felassan’s magic had rendered quick and doable. His magic, which he was clearly gaining better control over with every passing day… 

Her heart throbbed again with an undeniable surge of pride. Felassan continued to flick streaks and curls of fine blue-and-white droplets across the mural, and Tamaris eventually realized that the streaks and curls looked like smoke, which made sense given the omnipresent stylized fire that dominated much of the right-hand side of the mural. 

He stepped away from the wall one more time to examine his work, then finally nodded in satisfaction. He turned to face her with a smile. “So? What do you think?”

“I love it. It’s beautiful,” she said. Then she immediately regretted her inane compliment. It sounded so paltry compared to the way her heart was pounding in her chest, as though it wanted to escape the confines of her ribcage and leap into his open hands.

He sat beside her with a satisfied sigh. “I’m glad you like it. It’s us, after all.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

He gestured at the wall. “It’s us. A slow arrow dancing with flames. And a little bit of deep mushroom smoke, of course.” He smirked, then gently lifted her chin and studied her face. “I’m not convinced that I captured the shade of your eyes right, though.”

“My eyes?” she said stupidly.

“Yes, your eyes,” he said vaguely. He was still carefully examining her face. “Those green shapes on the left half of the wall.”

Those are my eyes? she thought. The green shapes he’d painted, then painstakingly repainted a second time to adjust their shade: those were meant to represent her eyes? 

He chuckled and lowered his hand. “Tell me the truth. You thought they were leaves, didn’t you?”

She stared wordlessly at him, overwhelmed by the perfection of this moment — the perfection of him. Her body was still buzzing with energy from watching him paint, and her heart was humming besottedly from the careful way he’d inspected the verdancy of her eyes. The memory of his loose and joyful movements danced across her mind as surely as his paint-slathered hands had danced across the wall, and gods, the laughter in his voice and in his smile… 

Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was shocked he couldn’t hear it. She swallowed hard and gazed at the mural once more — this mural that was them, that was her and Felassan together: a slow arrow dancing in flames, splashed boldly across the wall of this house for everyone to see. As Tamaris studied the bold jewel tones of the freshly-painted wall, it dawned on her that she had never seen any mural more beautiful than the one Felassan had just rendered with his magic and his own two hands. 

Tamaris tore her gaze away from the mural and met his bright violet eyes. “I love you,” she said.

A slow and brilliant smile lit his entire face, like a bursting of joy that rendered him even more painfully handsome than he already was. Tamaris stared gormlessly at him, her throat thickening with emotion as she took in the tenderness in his face. 

He cradled her neck in his palm. “I know, Tamaris,” he murmured.

Her heart squeezed with nerves. She swallowed hard, then smacked his chest. “You know? What do you mean, you know?”

His smile grew wider and softer at once. “I know you love me. I don’t need to hear you say it.”

Feeling slightly stung, she scoffed and tried to push him away. “You’re so fucking smug.”

He pulled her easily into his lap. “I don’t need to hear you say it, but I have been waiting for you to say it first.”

“Why?” she complained. “Why did I have to say it first?”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if I said it first,” he replied.

She darted him a cautious look. If he said it first? So that meant — did that mean…?

She cleared her throat and rubbed at the dent on her metal arm. “So… say it back, meaning…?”

He chuckled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It means that I love you too, felasil’ain. But I think you already knew that.” 

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she gazed silently into his glittering amethyst eyes. As usual, Felassan was right. He’d been right when he said that empty words couldn’t wipe her bitterness away. And now, in this moment, he was right when he said that mere words of love weren’t necessary. Just because he’d never said he loved her didn’t mean she didn’t know — and if she dug beneath the surface of her own stubborn insecurity, she could openly admit that she’d known all along.

She knew Felassan loved her; of course she knew, because it was infused into his every act. He made foods that he knew she would like and concocted herbal remedies for her withdrawal and her pain. He offered her massages and pulled her out of her terrible moods with his terrible jokes. He kissed her like there was nothing else he would rather do, and he fucked her like he was trying to wring every last shiver of pleasure from her body, and he was patient — almost unfathomably patient. He listened while she talked about Solas, and he’d tolerated the torture of their heated trysts until she was ready to have sex again, and he’d waited quietly while she held back the words of love that seemed to consume her more with every passing day.

No longer would she be consumed by those words. No longer would she be held hostage by them — especially not when his feelings for her were so patently obvious. 

She straddled him and cradled his paint-stained neck in her palms. “I love you,” she said huskily. “I — you’re right, okay? I wanted to say it for weeks but I felt — I don’t know, shy or something. I was being stupid.”

He squeezed her waist soothingly. “You were not being stupid. And there’s no need to explain. I told you, I don’t need you to say it.”

“Well, I need to say it,” she retorted. “And you deserve to hear it, okay? I fucking love you.”

He grinned at her, then broke into laughter. “How is it possible for someone to be affectionate and rude at once?”

She tsked and smacked his chest. “Shut the fuck up,” she said, and she kissed him. 

He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her tongue with his, and Tamaris happily capitulated to the heat of his kiss. When he broke away from her lips to laugh, she was helpless to do anything but laugh in turn.

They sat twined together on the floor, kissing and laughing and making fun of each other in husky murmured voices, and Tamaris basked shamelessly in the ample evidence of Felassan’s love. His lips pulled gently at hers and his hands moved carefully over her body, and there on the wall, looming benevolently over them in bright and brilliant strokes of colour, was the most visible sign of his love: a mural rendered by Felassan’s bare hands — a mural showing his slow arrow dancing fearlessly and boldly through the fire of her heart.