#i hate it when people say to 'set aside time for a task' is that not embarrassing to you <- insane

[epicdogymoment]

wondering why i only ever want to draw when i happen to have something else i need to do preventing me from drawing. you fool. its not coincidence at all. the inability to draw is what stimulates the desire to draw. now i just need to figure out a way to exploit this (so i can get myself to draw. ever)

[aperrywilliams]

That Wasn't Fake (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Request: Can you write a Spencer fic where the reader is kind of quiet and shy when she begins working at the BAU, and Spencer has a crush on her, and then they have a case, and she has to like to seduce the unsub lowkey and everyone kind of like...how is she going to do this shes not very outgoing but when she does shes really good at it, and everyone is surprised and impressed.

Summary:  You're shy and reserved. Spencer has a crush on you, and unbeknown to him, you have a crush on him. Maybe the cat can get out of the bag when you have to step aside of your comfort zone to catch an elusive unsub.

Word Count: 4.2k (no self control here)

Warnings: Words like 'fuck' and 'bitch'. A rant about self-doubt. Typical CM stuff: unsubs, killings, etc.

A/N: Another request I loved! It should have been a little shorter, but I'm having a hard time getting to the point these days. Please keep sending requests!

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Spencer knows it is inappropriate, but he can't help it. You're coworkers, and that itself sets a boundary, so he shouldn't be thinking of trespassing.

But the crush he has on you seems to grow every day.

He doesn't know if it is your beautiful smile, the kindness you show in everything you do, or the enthusiasm you put into every task you are committed to. Since the moment he saw you pass the bullpen glass doors, Spencer knew he was damned.

From that moment, Spencer knew he wanted to know you and learn everything about you. About what you liked, what you hated, and what your fears and dreams were. Everything.

But not much after that revelation in his mind, he understood it wasn't going to be easy to get to you.

You were extremely shy and reserved.

In fact, your first interaction - when Emily introduced you both - consisted of a wave of your hand and a timid 'nice to meet you.'

He thought as time went by, you would loosen and become less bashful and quiet. And in part, he was right. As the months passed, you began to feel more comfortable within the team. You laughed at Luke's jokes, you commented on Rossi's stories, and you could even - when the stars aligned - crack a joke yourself to Tara or Matt.

But beyond that, no one knew much about your life outside of the BAU, unlike JJ, who always talks about her kids and her husband, or Matt, who talks about his kids, too. Or Tara, who recounts her failed dates. Or the same Luke who always shows photos of Roxy.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be an enigma. But Spencer Reid loved decoding enigmas.

At first, he turned his interest in you out of mere scientific curiosity. However, internally, he knew it wasn't just that.

It started with small random questions about the times you worked together: Is this coffee okay? What was the last book you read? Do you think we should buy some donuts for the team?

If you were honest, it picked your interest why, from all people, Dr. Spencer Reid was so adamant in making conversation with you.

From what you knew and from what the team said, Spencer was not a person very interested in things other than work or books. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he asked you what the last movie you saw was or something like that.

You always answered his questions; however, you would have liked to be much more talkative and engage in longer conversations, but your nature stopped you.

'What if I don't have anything more interesting for him to say?'

'Does he just talk to me because he feels sorry for me?'

And that was the big issue: you have never had problems with the way you live your life. You're pretty satisfied with what you do in your job and out of it, too. But you have always thought you are too 'simple' to entertain people's interest.

And to be honest, being surrounded by people with so much experience and big things happening in their lives still intimidates you a bit. So, you usually refrain from talking too much about yourself or anything for that matter.

But with Spencer, things are a bit different. He's always checking on you but respects your boundaries. He has learned that sometimes you just don't want to talk, and he doesn't push.

Despite his interest beyond the professional, Spencer would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Being able to share time with you will have to be enough for him.

In a way, he has become your protector. He is your backup during interrogations or in situations where you can feel awkward, like the times when some police officers tried to flirt with you and got too close. Sure, you know how to turn them down, but sometimes guys don't get the memo and keep pushing. You're too shy to yell or be aggressive about it.

The team also understands the way you are, and they know it does not make you any less professional. However, they have always been careful not to take you too much out of your comfort zone.

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A whole two weeks and five murders later, the team is stuck trying to catch an unsub who has preferences for killing women after club nights. The profile says he is not interested in just any woman but in those between 25-30 years old who like to flirt with several men in the clubs. But it is not just any type of flirting; it is the type that is initiated and dominated by them. In short, he likes to kill women who are the opposite of submissive. He sees them as predators on a hunting ground.

Another finding in victimology is that the women he kills, in addition to having a specific age range, have very similar physical characteristics. And similar to you.

All his victims have your build, eye color, hair color, and height. It gets to be creepy to a certain point. And it's something difficult to ignore.

Bouncing information and possible strategies, the team agrees they need to be proactive to get him to show up before another killing happens.

"Okay, what options do we have?" Emily asks.

"The witnesses haven't gotten us anywhere," Luke complains.

"Although we've narrowed down his hunting grounds," Rossi shrugs.

"Yeah, we know the clubs where he likes to hunt," JJ backs Rossi.

"But although the profile, we have yet to learn about what to look for there. I mean, we know what the unsub wants, but not how he looks like." This time, it's Tara who speaks.

You've rarely seen Emily bite her tongue when she wants to say something, but it's clear that she has something on her mind, and she doesn't know how to put it, or maybe the problem is something else. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, and she looks back at you; what do those eyes say? They look like they're even apologetic.

It's a fraction of the time before she comes back to behave like herself.

"We need to lurk him. It's the only way," she says. And everyone's eyes - yours included - are on her immediately.

"Lurk him?" Matt repeats.

"Yes. And all we know who should be the one going undercover to do that," Emily adds, looking at you this time.

That's it—the elephant in the room.

Of course, you're the ideal candidate. Well, you're perfect in the physical aspect because if we talk about the victim's personality and yours...

There's silence in the room, and you can feel like the team's eyes are all on you.

Do they expect you to say no? To refuse? From your perspective, it's not a question; it's more like the option you all have to catch the guy.

"It's true (Y/N) would be the closest to the unsub type, but there are a lot of things to take into account," Matt says. And you know perfectly well what's behind his words, even if he doesn't say it directly.

And that's okay; it's perfectly plausible they have their doubts. It is not enough to look like the victims for the operation to work.

But if there is one thing you are sure of, it's that you will always give your all to your job, even if that means becoming a completely different person.

"I can do it," you mumbled so quietly that if the AC weren't in the lower setting, people wouldn't have heard you.

"But (Y/N), you know about this guy. It's dangerous," Matt points, a frown on his face.

"Not to mention he likes rough interactions," Luke adds.

"You don't have to do it if you feel uncomfortable." This time, it is JJ who voices her opinion. And you know, that's the closest reason to the team's main concern.

And the fact you can blow up the entire plan.

Spencer stays in silence. Internally he's freaking out thinking of you having to lurk on the unsub, but he knows you are a professional. And he feels a kind of deja vu.

When he was younger, the team would have said the same about him doing something like that. Spencer knows what it's like when people baby you, making you feel insecure. Sure, he hasn't had to worry about that anymore. Spencer is almost forty, and no one would dare to tell him he can't do something. Not after all the things he has been through.

"JJ is right, Bella. You don't have to do it. We can think of another way," Rossi backs JJ.

That's when Spencer notices the slight frown on your face. It's invisible to everyone but him. He knows it's there.

You stay collected, even when everyone on the team has something to say about how bad the idea of you going undercover to lurk the unsub is.

Emily is who stops everyone's rant.

"Guys, hey. If (Y/N) is telling us she can do it, we're going to do it. Of course, we'll be there to back up her and catch this unsub."

And this is how the discussion is settled.

Emily sends everyone out with a task to prepare for the night. Today is Friday, and the unsub will surely be stalking some new victim. The chances are high.

When it's just you and Spencer in the room, he still looks at you in silence.

"Do you also think I'll not be able to pull off this mission and I'm going to ruin everything?"

You downcast your gaze, exhaling deeply.

"No. I don't think that," Spencer clarifies, and you raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "You are more than capable, (Y/N). The team is worried because you'll be out of your comfort zone in a dangerous situation."

"The team? Not you?" You narrow your eyes to him.

You try not to sound accusatory, but if you're as scared as everyone, you also are fed up with the other's doubts.

Spencer closes the distance between you both but doesn't invade your personal space.

"Of course, I'm worried too! I don't want anything bad to happen to you. But I trust you and your judgment."

Your heart does flip-flops, and you're not sure if it's because Spencer is worried or because, despite that, he trusts you—or both.

"You do?" You ask, not so convinced.

Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And we'll be there when you catch the guy."

If that is the reassurance you need, you don't mention it. Instead, you grin at Spencer as a promise you'll do your job just how you are supposed to.

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You insist on getting ready in your hotel room. The only assistant you ask for is Emily. She was the one who trusted you first in this, so you'll take every piece of advice she can give you before this night starts.

Everyone has a role in the plan.

Rossi will be the chauffeur who will drive you to the club.

Luke and Spencer would be in the club, mingling with the patrons. JJ, Matt, and Emily would be in the van monitoring the whole situation with cameras and earpieces. Rossi would keep his facade as a driver so he could be at one of the entrances. Tara would be at the club, too, eyeing nothing suspicious going on in the bar because there is a chance the unsub is getting help from the bartender.

When you are in front of the mirror applying the last touch of makeup, Emily is looking at you with a stare you can't decipher.

"What?" you ask, and Emily chuckles.

"Please, don't take this in a bad way, but I never thought I would live the day of seeing you using clothing like this. And Jesus, you look so hot!"

Your cheeks redens.

"It's a little bit odd coming from my boss, don't you think?" you muse, smoothing the fabric of your dress.

"Point taken," Emily raises her hands in defense. "Although I know someone who is going to run out of breath after seeing you."

You let out a scoff. It's not a surprise for you. The BAU girls - boss included - have been trying to set you up with Spencer since forever. You don't entertain the idea only because you don't think it's possible and not because you don't like the concept.

"Come on, don't say that. You are not helping to my nerves."

"Sorry, I'll shut up. We should go, though," Emily says, checking her watch.

One of the SUVs drives you to the van parking point. You needed to review the operation details.

At the back of the van - or commander point - JJ, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Matt, and Spencer see you come up with Emily.

For the best US profilers, they're not doing a good job hiding that they are gawking at you. Surely, no one imagined seeing you in such a revealing outfit. Outfit that, without a doubt, suits you extremely well, highlighting all your body attributes.

Spencer feels like he died and was resurrected after seeing you.

"Okay, guys, we need to check the details again," Emily announces.

The plan is in motion, and everyone is in position.

As expected, you arrive with Rossi at the club, who opens the door for you and helps you descend from the car. Rossi gives you a reassuring smile before letting you go.

Like a switch, you are no longer the shy SSA (Y/L/N). Now you are the woman who is going to take what she wants and attract the unsub attention doing that.

Your walk is determined, and your eyes send out flames of confidence to those who look at you. The music is very loud, something that would usually bother you, but not now. This needs to feel like your environment. That's how you like it, you tell yourself.

Almost instantly, you start to attract the looks of men who are eager for a woman like you.

You exude determination, and you don't go unnoticed.

Walking into the club, you make brief eye contact with Luke, who is on the dance floor. You see Spencer perched in a booth, nursing a beer.

At the same time, Tara is stationed at the bar.

"Remember (Y/N); the unsub expects the woman to approach men. The flirt needs to come from you," Emily reminds you by the earpiece hidden in one of the earrings you're wearing.

"Show time," you mumble to yourself.

You walk seductively to the dance floor, where a young man is dancing with a blonde. You approach and whisper something in his ear. That makes the boy completely lose interest in the blonde and start dancing with you. You smile and cling to the man's body, who wastes no time and takes your hips as if they were his possessions.

That dance certainly has nothing innocent about it. You continue whispering things in the boy's ear, and he looks more and more excited. Once you consider it a reasonable amount of time to have attracted attention, you leave the boy alone and head to the bar. Just a few meters away from Tara, a suspicious man is staring at you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as you order a drink. When the bartender passes it to you, you make subtle eye contact with Tara, who nods, indicating that the drink is clean.

You look next to you and see another man not so subtly looking at you. You know the unsub's profile, and you can't be intimidated or dominated by another man. You are the one who calls the shots. Otherwise, this will not work.

Before the man makes his attempt to seduce you, you turn to him, and with a penetrating look and disdainful voice, you stop him.

"Sorry, honey. Don't waste your time. You're not my type," and with that, you leave to move to the opposite side of the club. The guy huffs, and you're almost sure hearing him call you 'bitch' under his breath.

JJ, who's following the cameras inside the club, sees someone who looks suspect.

"Hey, this guy has been peeking at (Y/N) the entire time, and look, he clenched his fists when (Y/N) turned down that guy at the bar."

Emily confirms JJ's observation before giving you the next instructions.

"(Y/N), you're doing great. We have a possible target. So we need to raise the bet."

You know exactly what Emily means. You both had talked about the strategy to follow, having more details about what you should do than the rest of the team.

Matt and JJ look confused at each other but say nothing.

Your next step is to find another dude to seduce before delivering the coup de grace.

Luke and Spencer keep an eye on you. And while Luke is pleasantly surprised by your audacity, Spencer can't help but feel his stomach tighten. He tells himself it's because he is afraid something bad could happen to you, but inside of him, it's that and the fact of seeing you flirt with other men.

Just like you did with the guy on the dance floor, you attract the attention of another man; this time, you take his hand and pull him to the dance floor.

JJ and Matt's jaws drop to the floor. If Tara, Luke, and Spencer could do the same without giving themselves away, they would have done it, too.

As if it were your second nature, you laugh and move to the music. The man seems to enjoy the moment so much that he takes a bold step by leaning in to kiss you. You let him get closer until his lips are almost on yours. But before touching each other, you pull back with a malicious smile.

"Naughty boy. I'm who says if you can kiss or no," you pout, faking disappointment. Dizzed, the guy cocks his head and sees you walk away.

Matt chirps now. "It's him. Look boss," he tells Prentiss, pointing to the same guy JJ saw before.

There is no longer any doubt that it is him. Now you just have to catch him red-handed.

"(Y/N), we got him. It's time for the last play," Emily tells you.

With Emily's instruction, you go to the bar for another drink before heading over to where Spencer is sitting.

He tries to play it off, but he has no idea why you're approaching him.

"Is this seat taken, handsome?" You ask, with your drink in hand.

"N- no. Please," Spencer gestures to the booth on his front, but you opt to perch to his side. Spencer thinks he never has been this close to you. He looks at your eyes, and it's like you are a totally different person. It's a little bit contradictory for him, to be honest. He already likes you just as you are, but this version of you? It's driving him insane.

Some resemblance of your true self looks with a kind of curiosity the nervousness on Spencer. You don't think much about it; you assume he's playing the nervous guy who is baffled by you.

The thing is, Spencer isn't playing. He's definitely baffled by you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, masking your question with a seductive smile.

"Yeah. Are - are you?" Spencer stutters a bit—something that is perfect for the plan but embarrassing for him.

You get closer to him to speak in his ear.

"This was Emily's idea," you tell him before kissing his ear and gently biting his lobe.

Spencer's breath hitches in his throat, and he thinks he's going to pass out any second. You're not doing it better: your heart is also pumping hard from the adrenaline. Of course, you had imagined something like that with Spencer, but only in your erotic dreams. You wouldn't dare do this on any given day.

You keep teasing Spencer, who, despite the nervousness, tries to play along. If this is the closest he will ever have you, he wants to engrave this in his memory.

"Just a little push, (Y/N). We almost have him," Emily instructs by the earpiece.

You swallow as subtly as possible as you wrap your arm around Spencer's neck, pulling him closer to you.

It's only a second between that action and the fact that you're kissing Spencer like it's your last meal.

Spencer doesn't know how to respond, and you were counting on that; it was enough time for the unsub to notice that you were the one who chose her last prey.

When Spencer is about to reciprocate the kiss, you murmur a 'sorry' into his lips and quickly pull away, giving him a disdainful look—which you hope he understands is fake—before getting up and walking toward the back exit door.

As expected, the unsub follows you towards the back door, and while your back is turned, he believes he has the advantage to attack you. What he doesn't know is that Matt and Luke are ready to lunge at him the moment he tries to touch you.

Everything that happens after is too fast.

The unsub is detained and taken to a patrol car while the team gathers around you, congratulating you on the successful operation. They all apologize to you for their previous apprehensions. You tell them that you understand and that there is no need to apologize. And it's like the switch has been flipped again since you came out of the femme fatale role.

But something is wrong. Spencer is not in the group. You see him a little further away, near the exit door of the club. Emily notices the looks between you both, and she sends the team on different tasks to close the case, leaving you and Spencer there.

There's something in his eyes that you can't decipher. You think it's resentment for using him without warning him what you were going to do.

You shyly approach him.

"It's me again," you tell him, pulling a face. You don't know what to say to make the situation better. Spencer nods.

"Yeah. You did it great, by the way," he compliments you. But it doesn't feel good like Spencer's compliments usually do.

"Look, about the kiss back there-" you start. He needs an explanation as a bare minimum.

"I know. It was fake," Spencer cuts you off.

Those words shouldn't hurt you as they do now. But isn't that the most reasonable thing to believe? The you in the club weren't you, so all you did inside was pretend.

Everything except that kiss.

If it's true you couldn't enjoy it the way you would have liked, you will never forget his lips on yours.

A tense silence takes over the moment. This is not okay.

You can't afford to lie to one of the most important people in your life, even if telling the truth takes you out of your comfort zone.

What the hell! Tonight has already been a total of 180 from a usual day for you.

"It wasn't," you mumble, and you see his eyes flicking to yours in a second.

"What?" Spencer asks, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Everything was fake, but not the kiss," you say with a stadied voice this time.

Spencer's heart races again. If you say you didn't fake it, then what he felt on your part at that moment was real?

"It wasn't fake?" He asks for clarification. You nod.

A smirk forms on Spencer's lips, seeing your cheeks redden.

There you are. The girl he had fallen for in the past two years.

"Well, you know that I am a man of science, right?" he tells you, and you frown because you have no idea where this is going.

"I know," you say with some hesitation.

"And as a man of science, I need evidence of things, you know?"

Now, you are the one who smirks at him.

"Evidence, huh?"

"Yep," he says, emphasizing the 'p' and swaying his body on his feet. You hum.

"I believe I can provide the necessary evidence if you need them," you concede, and Spencer's eyes sparkle with excitement.

Now, he is the one who reaches out and cups your cheeks. Your breathing quickens, but that doesn't stop you from standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips with his.

This time, there is no unsub, no curious eyes are looking at you, there is no rush, there is no femme fatale role, and above all, this is not fake; it's as real as the fact that your heart beats for him, and his for you.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[gutsby]

Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

[sentientfunfetti]

Yandere! Actor Wally, please...

possessive actor!wally/reader hcs

(actor wally and his au was made by @/frillsand on tumblr! go support their work!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

CW// POSSESSIVE THEMES

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of course, like any other version of him, this one would be very cautious and closed off at first. he wouldn’t share much with you and if he does it’s brief, but after you ‘prove yourself’ to him he immediately becomes attached to you. he's absolutely stuck by you. you're just his assistant but he falls hard. harder than he ever has.

seeing as how you’re the first person to ever see him for who he is, he lets you get away…with a lot. it’s all bias of course, and you may not even use it but you start to notice that your small mistakes barely go noticed. he doesn't even allow anyone else to scold you either. you can tell that his patience is still thin, however.

he values your time with him. in his downtime he’s hellbent on spending time with you and you only, even if this means dragging you along on subtly planned ‘lunch breaks’ with him. (these are dates) or calling you for petty tasks he could have easily done himself just to see you.

he likes spoiling you, and that becomes very obvious very fast. he loves it when you tell him ‘thank you’ for buying you lunch or getting you coffee. he goes from sending you in to get these things for him to go in with you, bringing his bodyguards along.

you take up so much of his mind he starts to stumble in rehearsal. this actually frustrates him at first. he takes his frustration out on you a tad before finally cooling down.

practically demands all of your attention. he goes to you for just about everything. input, script reading, any excuse to see you. any excuse to get closer. he hates the fact that you two have such a professional relationship and wants to be more, even if that means breaking a few rules. it's not like you're a fan, you're his assistant. no harm done.

ignores fanmail entirely. when you ask why he brushes it off the way he usually does. "why would i want a bunch of strangers telling me what i already know?". the truth is very different, however. he secretly wishes to be praised by you and you only.

speaking of, he may not show it but he soaks up any and all praise you give him and internalizes it almost immediately. no matter how small. he loves it when you compliment him.

it's hard to keep his cool when he sees you getting the same treatment from others, however. he silently watches from the corner, fuming. how dare they. until he can muster up the courage to fully compliment you himself, he glares daggers at people who do. repeat offenders get fired and blacklisted from acting entirely.

he is not above blackmail to get his way. not to you, no of course not! other people, however? free game. he has dirt on just about everyone. they don't even know.

even though he has a tendency of doing horrible things to get his way, he always tries to steer away from that entirely. he keeps trying to convince himself that he’s above that and he’s a changed man. unfortunately, you make that a bit hard with how many other people you seem to attract every other day.

appreciates your patience with him most of all. set aside the fact you're not weird about the fact that he's a puppet like most people, he loves your kind heart and wants to protect that, even if that means burning bridges to see more of you. he craves intimacy with you. he hates how weak you make him feel, but he can't help but let all of those walls come crumbling down when you're that nice to him.

isn't good with physical contact at first, so he sticks to small things: 'accidental' brushes against you, linking pinkies with you, shoving you along. he’s experimenting, give him time.

drags you along to rehearse his lines. he loves using his 'deadlines' as an excuse to get your help. he knows he could ask anyone else but why would he? you say yes every time anyway because that's how nice you are. he absolutely loves the scenes where he gets to subtly flirt with you. did the script call for improv? ssssh. doesn't matter. your red face makes it all worth it in the end.

is not above using the character he's playing mannerisms to get his way. he knows he's good at what he does, and he knows he's adorable. he uses this to his advantage, even incorporating past character's mannerisms into his own when he notices people stick to them. this includes you. if he notices you like a certain thing about a character he's playing he is quick to pick up on this and use that against you.

in the end, his end goal is for you to date, and maybe be something more in the future. he's willing to do whatever that takes, even if that means working on himself more just to make sure you're more comfortable with the idea of dating. has no issue with having a 'secret' relationship if that's what you want.

isn't much of a pet name person but he would call you 'hun' sarcastically at first but over time it would become a genuine pet name for him.

if you two do something together then expect that to be something you two do together. he would get upset at people who try and 'butt in' in the things you two do together. those things are for you two and you two only. certified gatekeeper.

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

funny thing! i actually got two requests to do this guy!

it was a bit hard to do seeing as how i don’t really know much about the au, but thank you for requesting it anyway! (both of you LMFAO). i have a few more planned, and two more requests to do. i’m still working on my reboot wally/reader fic so if i seem a bit slow that’s why. please be patient. i already have the outlines and things like that made for the requests i’ve gotten.

thanks for the request, neighbor!

[tikiloowho]

QSMP Purgatory Thoughts

I have a lot of thoughts regarding the current arc for QMSP. I also main the team BOLAS???!? POV but as an insane individual I have seen the vod's and watch multiple teams POV's at the same time. So take all of this with a grain of salt. It's not that deep and I have absolutely no malice towards any of the CC's. Purgatory is not meant to be easy, it's meant to be harsh. People will not act in a fashion that they usually would in this environment and condemning them as terrible individuals is extremally short sighted and wildly unnecessary. No-one deserves a hate raid just because they decided to attack someone elses favorite CC. Makes no sense. That being said, I think people are collectively undermining the weight of the actions (in rp) done to team red on the first day. The first day in purgatory team red was SLAMMED. From being slain by friends to being spawn killed, to having bodies looted and homes ransacked, team red somehow kept getting the brunt of the focus. This was not intentional of course but it kept happening. ( Notably, team red has some of the least experienced players when it comes to playing minecraft itself along with the most players with the lowest chance of coming online at ALL during the event. However. This team also has some of the veteran players and have some of the most consistent players. This balances them out when it comes to the other teams who are better at PVP and better at Modded minecraft, respectively. ) The events of day one set the tone for red teams response to every single action the other teams took from that point forwards. They tried talking to others and were silenced. They tried setting up a base and it was destroyed over and over. This chain reaction is WHY team red is so hesitant to speak to others let alone work with them. This mentality keeps being re-enforced by the actions of others when red team takes the chance to talk or lower their guard. ex. Jaiden willing to talk to Tubbo, only for BBH to spawn kill her. ex. Teams agreeing to just pvp for the event only for Green team to start harming the enemy teams egg first. ex. Red teams alliance with Green team being cast aside so green team could win by making a deal with blue team.

From Red team's POV genuinely, there is no reason to talk or make alliances. They only have each other. This trust in one another alone is why red team keeps managing to gain the wins. It's a level of trust in the others capabilities that makes them strong. The RP team just spends the day giggling and cheering each other on regardless of where they are on the score board. They only take a chance to try and win when one of them goes "hmm... You guys wanna try?" and the group just agrees to give it a shot. There is nothing deeper too it. Red team has become the frightened dog of the server. Of course it's going to bite at the hands offered. They aren't trying to win they are trying to survive. They have the least amount of resources and the weakest gear. They have some of the worst pvp players but by god they are having so much fun with one another. There are exceptions to who they relax around and those are usually "partners" and or "close friends" but even then, team red knows that at any moment these meetings could turn to bloodshed. Having seen some of the other teams POV's is boggles my mind how certain both blue and green team are that red team has some giant base and has crazy enchants and super armor when they went into the event with basically nothing enchanted they used up EVERYTHING they had for the event. They haven't been on the grind as much because they spend a lot of time dead. The red team is also extremally "task" oriented. They all love finishing a list and honestly that's really all spend their day's doing. The tasks at hand and trying not to die. That and having a good time. Which.. when it comes down to it, isn't that the point of all of this? To have fun?

Red team also got the Eye guy to say "Bolas" and that in of itself is a win.

[hotchfiles]

↪ day five. fbi — #marchhotchness

What are some of your headcanons for his FBI career, do you have any?

these aren't headcanons mostly, but i spent a lot of time trying to make sense of hotch's backstory because it's a bit of a mess. criminal minds writers aren't serious people and they just be saying things either it fits or not to the timeline they themselves created. i hate them. i hope they spend their whole lives stepping on legos. anyway.

i've talked about this already, but i don't think aaron was a gifted sports kid, i think he was good enough, which means i also think physically he was just that, good enough. being in a physically challenging career wasn't his main plan anyway.

so, aside from fights during his school years and lifting a bit of weight and doing a bit of cardio, before the academy, he wasn't the most prepared guy for the job.

but he's goddamn determined, so from the moment he applied he started working out, we've seen him in action, and that's him as a middle aged man, so he went from this geeky bookworm boy to someone who worked out every single day so he wouldn't be a liability on the field.

as for gun handling, i think that was never difficult to him, his father probably had guns at home and taught him how to shoot and properly handle them. as a prosecutor i'm sure he already had guns in his home for protection.

his efforts in the academy got him a spot in the crisis negotiation unit, first as a swat operator, he's a prolific sniper. then as a profiler as his intentions were always set to be the one who finds and catches the criminals, as we know, the bau is an elite unit, so before being promoted and transferred, he want from the cnu to the seattle field office as a profiler and worked two years there.

these experiences gave him enough expertise to teach crisis negotiation, and then he was transferred to the bau as profiler. in 1998 he was promoted to lead profiler, his first case was the reaper, as we already know.

we don't have a fucking clue of when, but he was also communications director for a time, i like to believe it was somewhere between 2002-2005.

in 2005 he was promoted as unit chief in gideon's absence, but kept this title even when gideon came back.

aaron is focused, he is determined and he is honest. that should be good, but actually that makes him target of many people who see his drive as a threat to their careers, so he is used to having to deal with higher ups trying to step on his toes and swipe the rug out off his feet.

if the godforsaken producers of this show weren't a fucking JOKE (jeff davis when i fucking GET YOU) i'm sure there would have been more conflicts of that sort, because the position for fbi director is not out of reach for him, if he wanted that, he could definitely be up for the task easily.

but, i like to think he wouldn't want it. it's better pay, better hours and he would be able to make important decisions, but he would be out of the field and out of the bau, i don't think he would be able to do it. he loves the bau, being a profiler, catching serial killers, way too much. it's his passion and his purgatory.

and to quote him: "why would i ever leave the bau?"

[faramirsonofgondor]

I hate that Ted is portrayed as a kind, caring, good coach. I’m not saying he hasn’t been kind or caring to the team and others, but I hate a lot of the decisions he makes. He’s such a non-confrontational person, to the point where he never addresses the problems the team has, which is a part of being a coach. He’s supposed to manage the team, which means making sure the team dynamic runs smoothly and the players aren’t having any problems. Yet he tasks Roy, who has shown himself to be an emotionally stunted, angry person, with making sure Colin and Isaac stop bothering Nate and getting Jamie’s attitude in check. And then he repeatedly tries to force Roy and Jamie into bonding with each other, treating Jamie like he’s the antagonist in the situation (which he sometimes is) despite the fact that Roy is in a clear position of power over Jamie and Roy himself doesn’t exactly treat Jamie with respect or kindness.

He lets Jamie’s behavior build up, and tries to get Jamie to like him and sweet talk him into behaving (the whole ‘ur such a good player but ur one of 11’ speech). Then, when Jamie still continues with his bad behavior, he gets into Jamie’s personal space and yells in his face while towering over him in front of the team . Even though Ted didn’t know about Jamie’s father, this was still a completely inappropriate course of behavior. If one of my coworkers was being rude and messing up the workplace dynamic and I saw my boss yell in their face like that, I would be immediately heading to HR. And when Ted benches Jamie after Roy tries to attack him??? Yes what Jamie did was fucked up but Roy was acting like a fucking dickhead too. And it was probably sending mixed messages to Jamie, because there Ted was acting all nice and kind and being placating about Jamie’s attitude, then suddenly Jamie’s being benched and then Ted’s yelling at him with no warning. Like if Ted has just said from the beginning that Jamie’s behavior was unacceptable and if he kept acting like a ball hog and a bad teammate then he would be benched, I think Jamie would’ve probably stopped acting like a fucking prick. But instead of setting clear boundaries, he avoided the issue and then had an outburst when he wasn’t getting the results he wanted.

It doesn’t just happen in season 1 either, there are moments scattered throughout the whole show where Ted ultimately fails to do his job and act like an actual boss to the team. I understand, in part, that some of this is probably caused by toxic masculinity and ‘sports culture’ but it still doesn’t excuse his actions, or inactions. He lies about Jamie coming back (even if it wasn’t technically a lie at the time), then he does nothing to help Jamie adjust to being back on the team while everyone hates him (the ‘Led Tasso’ bit was not an appropriate form of help). He brings Roy back as a coach, then does nothing about Roy’s unprofessionalism and refusal to coach Jamie. He doesn’t even offer any meaningful advice to Jamie about it. It shouldn’t have been a situation that Jamie had fix by himself. Ted, as the one in charge, should’ve pulled Roy aside and talked to him about it (it irks me to this day that pulled Roy aside about Trent but not about Jamie). He doesn’t say anything about Nate, who revealed private information to the press, and allows Nate to keep coaching. Like did he not even think about the fact that Nate could’ve potentially told the press information about other people on the team???

And then in Season 3 he ignores Jamie’s complaints about Zava, and lets the entire coaching staff insult and belittle him for being worried about the team’s dynamic. He ignores the fact that Jamie was right about the dynamic getting messed up. He never apologizes or acknowledges it after Zava leaves either. When Isaac went after that homophobe, he just told Isaac to chill out and not take it seriously when Isaac was legitimately upset, once again ignoring the issue and focusing on the wrong thing. If someone I knew had attacked someone who was shouting slurs at them, telling them they fucked up while they were still clearly upset wouldn’t be my first, nor my second, nor third or fourth or fifth reaction. AND AFTER EVERYTHING TED HAS THE AUDACITY TO TELL JAMIE TO FORGIVE HIS FATHER???? Like I understand it was Jamie’s choice to contact his dad and that Ted never told him too, but did Ted literally just never once consider the fact that the advice he was giving him might put him in danger? Not even just physically, but mentally as well?

I just think Ted is so focused on trying to keep people happy that he misses the fact that sometimes you have to confront and feel your negative emotions in order to get to the core of a problem.

I just hate it when media portrays characters a certain way, to the point where they’re practically shouting ‘look at him, he’s so nice and kind and he’s never done anything wrong’ and then have the character make shitty decisions and never resolve or confront the mistakes they made?? They never get any consequences??

That being said, I don’t view Ted as a completely horrible or evil person either, just someone with a lot of flaws that I wish were more acknowledged. He can be a good person and he has helped some of the people on the team, but he’s also hurt them in some ways and that’s never really addressed.

[sstormyskyess]

To See Another Day

author's note: soap it up challenge fic #2!! i like to think i'm best at hurt/comfort so this was very fun to write [used prompt 19 "it's not over" for this one!]

cw: canon typical violence, hurt/comfort

word count: 1800+

John "Soap" Mactavish x GN!Reader

You were a bit of a pessimist. You liked to say that you were just being realistic, but you were proven wrong time and time again, mainly because your team was highly proficient in getting out of hairy situations just by the skin of their teeth. It seemed like the task force had some sort of supernatural ability to weasel their way through missions, narrowly dodging danger by playing limbo with the red tape that restricted their operations.

So, once you got taken prisoner by your latest targets, you tried your hardest to trust in your team’s capabilities; the five of you had been in worse situations before, it couldn’t be too different this time around, right?

It was getting harder and harder to convince yourself of that. If you were calculating right, it had been about a week since you got whisked away by a group of soldiers in the pocket of the Las Almas Cartel after returning to the city to wrap El Sin Nombre up, once and for all. You’ve certainly seen better days, that’s for sure; you were battered, probably sporting a black eye, maybe a broken rib or two.

Various people had entered and exited the room, some ignoring you and some roughing you up just for the hell of it. The one person that surprised you was the man that came in with a second chair and set it down opposite you. A seat for a new interrogator, maybe? Odd, since no one else had a chair to sit in as of yet. You try to shrug it off, since unpredictability is typical with these kinds of things.

You certainly would’ve never predicted the person that ended up sitting across from you, though. This was far out of the range of your imagination.

When Soap got dragged in and had his limbs tied to the armrests, you were positively floored, your eyes wide and your jaw dropped. The door slammed shut as your captors left and you were left with him.

“Soap, what the hell are you doing here? What did you do this time?” Your mind was running a mile a minute, your eyes darting all over his form, checking for any injuries. “Where are the others? Are they here too—”

“Stop, bonnie. Breathe. Everything is fine, we’re getting out of here.” His voice was stern, grounding you enough for you to stop spiraling for a minute. You look at him with wide, unfocused eyes. Something about seeing him here with you fills you with a strange mix of relief and dread. You’re glad to have someone with you, of course; knowing that the one with you was someone you care so dearly for, someone you always hate seeing hurt, is the part that made your heart drop into your stomach.

Soap is about to continue saying his piece, but the door opens roughly, and a few soldiers stalk into the room one after the other. You look at Soap and he looks back giving you a small nod, his blue eyes telling you not to worry.

Tears fall down your cheeks as you watch Soap get his head pulled up by his mohawk, his face covered in purpling bruises and his lips covered in blood from his broken nose. They had been whaling on him for almost an hour now, trying to get him to tell them all the information they were looking for. He, being the stubborn, headstrong man he was, has managed to stay silent aside from all the taunts he was spitting at them, provoking them.

“Soap, stop! Please!” You beg him, writhing in your restraints even though you know full well you aren’t going anywhere. You just want to save him so badly. You wanted to pull the people hurting away from him and put them six feet under for hurting your partner. But he just keeps egging them on, and he keeps getting pummeled, all right in front of your eyes.

You couldn’t turn away even if you wanted to; there was someone holding you by the scruff of your neck and chin, forcing your gaze forward. Another sob rattles your chest and you thrash against the grip on the back of your neck when you see one of them reel the fist back, ready to hit Soap across the face again.

Another splatter of blood streaks across the floor when a gloved fist hits him across the cheek, the blood from his nose and mouth being painted across the concrete floor. He grunts in pain, shooting an icy glare at the person connected to the fist. "You're not getting shite out o' me." He growls slowly, each word said with purpose.

You sniffle, still trying to wrench yourself away from the firm grasp on your face. “Stop hurting him, please stop hurting him—” Your voice cracks, crumbling away and leaving you weeping. You curse yourself inwardly, shutting your eyes tightly and trying to stop the tears from flowing. You’re a highly-trained special ops operator working on one of the most critically acclaimed task forces in the entire world, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to be stoic, you’re supposed to be able to remain calm in situations like this. You’re supposed to be strong, like him. You’ve been in this position many times before, so why couldn’t you hold yourself together this time? Why?

“I’ll do what you want, I’ll tell you what you want to know, just stop hurting him!”

That line gets Soap’s attention immediately, his eyes wide as his glare softened when he looks at you. His face quickly went from pitying to stern in the blink of an eye. “Do not.” He barks, making you flinch. “It’s not over. Do not give them a fucking word.” He hisses.

Your breathing starts to steady a bit as he pins you down with the firm look in his eyes. “You’re better than this, you know you are—” Another blow to his cheek cuts his sentence short and the chair you’re in starts scuffing along the floor as your efforts to escape the hold on your neck and the hand now squeezing your cheeks to stop you looking away. You are better than this. You’re not a sniveling child—you’re strong. You are strong.

You’re strong enough to finally notice that the ropes on your right arm are loosening. You’re strong enough to tug harder and harder against the ropes, your arm wiggling free slowly but surely. You’re strong enough to break free of the ropes and grab the hand on your face, pulling it to your mouth and biting their fingers as hard as possible, ripping a yelp from them.

They jump away from you instinctively, allowing you to pull the ropes on your other arm off, shoving the soldier that tries to restrain you again hard enough to send him toppling. You quickly untie the thick cables off of your ankles, standing up.

When one of the people torturing Soap lunges for you, you grab the back of the chair and use your experience getting into bar fights with your partner and best friend to strike them in the shoulder and head, sending them flying as well. You bring it down on their prone body again, hard enough to smash the chair to pieces.

The person you bit comes for you next and you snatch the arm that goes to grab you, heaving them over your shoulder and taking him down as well. You kneel on their back and rob their combat knife from its sheath, plunging it into their neck before pulling their gun from its holster and shooting the rest of the hostiles, their bodies going limp.

Your chest heaves and you brace your hands on the bloody concrete to catch your breath. When your breathing has evened out, you wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, standing up. It takes some effort since the adrenaline has left your system, making you realize just how tired you were. Your limbs shake, making you stumble a bit when you make your way over to Soap.

You fumble with the ropes tying him down until they were all strewn around the chair and collapse to your knees, resting your head in his lap, chest tightening up again. It’s still not over; you have to get out of here, but you relax for just a moment when his hand gently lands on your head, running across your scalp and down your neck to your shoulders.

Soap pulls the covers on his bed back to let you climb in and you cuddle up next to him almost immediately. He wraps you up in his arms and pulls the sheets tight around you, effectively bundling you up to the point you can barely move. You appreciated it, loving the feeling of his warmth surrounding you.

You lay in a comfortable silence for a while before you feel the need to address the elephant in the room. “I’m sorry.” You mumble into his chest, burying your face into his shirt. “Why are you sorry?” He pulled away to look at you with a confused look in his icy blue eyes, an eyebrow quirked. You shake your head with a frown on your face. “You know why. I almost told them everything.”

He sighs. “Y’know I would’ve done the same.” He kisses your forehead, running his hand up and down your back. You purse your lips into a straight line. “That’s not true and you know it.” You huff, tightening your arms around him to pull him impossibly closer.

“It’s true. I love you so damn much,” he says in-between kisses on your cheeks, “I can barely stand seeing you get hurt out there.” You look away, cheeks warming under his attention. “Don’t know if I could’ve stayed quiet for as long as you did.” He nuzzles against your face and keeps peppering your face with kisses and ending with a slow, intimate kiss on the lips. “Y’saved me, dove. In so many ways, y’know that?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was muffled by his shoulder, where your face was buried. You know that you saved him today, before the task force got you both out of there. Something just came over you when Soap reminded you of yourself, brought you back from the brink.

He chuckles, rubbing circles into the muscles of your lower back. “They probably would’ve beat me to a pulp if I kept mouthing off. I just couldn’t stop myself, but you did; y’made me realize I’d have died on you.” He feels you shiver in his arms at the idea of him being gone and his hands run up and down your back to comfort you. “I couldn’t do that to you, dove.”

He kisses you again and holds your cheek, his thumb running across your cheekbone. You smile a bit. “I love you too, John.”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

[imaginedreamwrite]

I’ll Get By

A/N: There will be things that I get wrong/may not be historically accurate, please forgive me!

Part 2: The Small Things

1946 — St. Catherine’s Asylum

The fall swept in with a whirlwind and just as soon as it had approached, it felt as if it would be overshadowed by winter. There was an overlying sense of dread for the winter to come, if the 1946 Farmer’s Almanac was right. The winter was set to be cold, with heavy snow headed for NYC and the surrounding areas.

But it wasn’t the weather that you wanted to focus your time on, or your thoughts. There was something much more important bothering you, or rather someone. The news that Lyle Samson told you about the celebrity in the asylum had made you take a pause when you first heard him say it weeks ago. And in the few moments following his whispered secret, you found out it was Steve Rogers.

Captain America himself, the hero that had saved thousands of people being in the St. Catherine’s Asylum—for the feeble-minded as it was called—was as shocking as it was mystifying. There was a countless amount of heroism that was thrown aside just as he was thrown into the cursed building.

The things he had done in the war, and likely had seen, could have driven him crazy if he actually had a weak mind and yet, it seemed as if he was anything but. Aside from the lifetime guilt that would likely plague him from the loss of his friend in the war, his mind had seemed sharp.

It was intrigue that made you search for the cause behind his place in the asylum, on your days away from the cursed building. With the very few resources you had as a woman in 1946, struggling in a Brooklyn apartment that left little to be desired, you had attempted to feed your curiosity. It wasn’t just the resources that you had lacked in, it was a lack of opportunity to talk to the man himself.

The action of the nurse who had put you on the men’s ward to begin with, had been rectified by Dr. Rollins, who had removed you from that floor. It had felt as if you were in limbo between working in the direction that the lead doctor had wanted you to go in, and being hazed as the newest nurse. Those with seniority had often sent the new nurses to the men’s wards, fully knowing that their outside contact with women was limited.

It was a prospect that was anxiety inducing for the newer staff members, as you’d heard from a few other nurses working in that ward. The men were maddened by the asylum themselves or the newest treatments that Dr. Rollins had wanted to inflict on the patients.

You’d wondered if the treatments themselves weren’t the root cause for their mental state, treatments like electroshock therapy or even lobotomies if Dr. Rollins thought the case called for it. You had never bared witness to the treatments themselves, rather you had been assigned the task of giving medicine, taking blood or delivering the patients’ meals.

As it was, you had served a single shift on the men’s ward, being you were placed on the children’s floor. There was almost something more debilitating about seeing the children, young and innocent faces locked behind their doors, that ate at your insides. Those small children, those poor innocents left behind by parents or ripped from their homes by people who thought they knew better….

You hated the children’s ward more than you hated the men’s ward. There was such a lack of genuine care by some nurses, who had likened themselves to being babysitters for those little girls and boys, rather than caretakers. For weeks, you had done your best to extend all the kindness you could afford to them, while inherently feeling sickened by their treatments.

It was near the end of October when you had finally convinced Dr. Rollin’s to place you back on the men’s floor. The request itself seemed to turn his head and garner his curiosity, since most nurses would rather avoid the men’s ward at all costs. For you, for your ability to try to sleep at night, you could not be around children when the staff didn’t care about them. Your heart broke for those children, for everyone who was left abandoned in the care of those who treated them like a problem.

The children, who were most vulnerable in the entire asylum, had been treated the worst. There was a deep deposited hurt in your heart and soul that made you incapable of being able to find rest late at night. Insomnia had afflicted you in the quiet hours of night in your Brooklyn apartment, where you would toss and turn. Your mind was an impossible thing to turn off, as you thought about the patients you had come to know.

And the ones you wanted to know.

It had taken weeks for you to be placed back on the men’s ward. When you had gotten placed back on the floor, you were determined to treat them like the patients were people and not animals. The first day back on the men’s ward had started with an opportunity for enrichment for the men, a chance for them to get out of their rooms and do something with their time.

Although the task was simple—a chance to draw or sketch with charcoal pencils and cheap sketchbook paper—it was enough to occupy them. You were assigned the task, with one of the other nurses, of looking over the men as they sat in a large, somewhat airy room.

There was nothing but chairs that had faced the front of the room with sunlight streaming through dirty thin glass panel windows. The nurse assisting you with the task was as uninterested as you had imagined, choosing to take her time writing a letter to her lover, rather than care for the patients.

“They’re sketching, they won’t do anything.” She had quipped with a disinterest when saddling you with handing out the charcoal pencils and sketchbooks. She had preoccupied herself with the pen she had twirled between her fingers, and the smoke in her other hand that was lit yet not used yet. “Go!”

The temptation to speak what was on your tongue, a curse you’d wished you’d had more bravado to speak, had died quickly. Regardless of you being a nurse during the latter years of the war, the lives you had tried to save when they came to the hospital you were assigned, you felt like she was scolding you like she would a child. There was nothing you could have said currently to her, not with these men watching the two of you, and any aggressive attempt would only unsettle them.

You silenced yourself and started passing out the charcoal pencils and sketchbooks, working your way toward the back of the large room. With each passing second, you had been aware of the eyes on you, the men who were watching you. There was a level of unease around the room, a certain amount of tension from the patients, who had very obviously been aware they were outnumbering the two of you.

And yet as you approached the back of the room, the last chair and patient to receive a sketchbook, you’d felt your heart stop. Like the first time you had seen him, Steve Rogers was undeniably captivating. His blonde hair was messily brushed out of his face, and his blue-green eyes had once again made you forget how to breathe. He was a national hero, and his placement here in the asylum seemed to be completely improper for someone like him.

After everything he had done, after everything he had given up to save lives, he was thrown in here? To be forgotten and thrown aside? It seemed like such an injustice for him, to have him give everything and be locked in here.

“Thank you,” his deep voice was husky and alluring, and there was a moment when his hand brushed against yours, “nurse L/N.”

Electricity like you’d never felt before had passed from his hand to yours, further enticing you in a manner that felt impossible. Your tongue felt as if it was swelling inside your mouth with the inability to utter a single word, and with a stark nod, you turned on your heel and walked away.

**************************************

Your tongue had betrayed you. Your tongue and brain had both left you, faltering in a moment when you could have spoken to him. And it was a regret that you had carried with you late into the afternoon. With the inability to communicate despite your desire to ask him, even if it wasn’t your place, you thought you had squandered your opportunity.

And yet, as the medications were being handed out in the afternoon, it seemed as if a second chance was given to you. The same nurse you had spent the enrichment time with—wherein you handed out art supplies, and she did nothing—had left the room to belong to Steve Rogers with a harsh huff. The door slammed heavily behind her and her heels clacked angrily against the aged floor, the wood grain in desperate need to be sanded down and stained to look fresh.

“He wants you,” the nurse in question had slammed the clipboard down upon the nurses’ desk, her ire focused solely on you, “he won’t allow anyone else to administer his medication.”

The paper attached to the clipboard was dusted with small ink stains from her pen that had dripped from the leaking tip. On the top of the rudimentary chart was his name in black boldened letters, STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, with a complete lack of the title he had earned. There were notes on his attitude for Dr. Rollins, and perhaps people outside the asylum interested in the great America hero, however nothing new was added for today.

“Why?” You had already started rising to your feet, your hands reaching for the clipboard and your fingers curling around the thin side.

The edge dug into the creases on your palm, and your eyes had swept across the aggressive scowl of the nurse before moving toward the small rolling cart beside her. The tools needed to draw blood were set upon the metal surface, as well as the small white pills that Dr. Rollins deemed necessary. Besides the medication and the tools needed to draw blood, was a simple book—something he must’ve requested.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears while you pushed the rolling cart toward the door of his room, the clipboard and rudimentary chart on top of the book. You only had to knock once to announce yourself and as you pushed the cart into the room, you closed it softly behind you.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about his room and he was given nothing the other patients did not have—a basic metal bed that seemed as if it was too small for him, an uncomfortable looking mattress, cheap sheets made from thin cotton, and the usual grey uniform.

In the corner of his room was a small selection of books, and to the left of the books were previous sketches he had done. Although most were landscapes that must have come from his recollection, many that you had not known yourself, the Empire State Building was the only monument that you had recognized. Its likeness was uncanny. So much detail had been captured by a simple charcoal pencil, it felt as if you could reach out and touch it.

You had been blindly captivated by the sketch, so much so that you hadn’t been able to address him. Not about the request to have you, and you alone, administer his medication, nor could you question why he was here. Your eyes were fixated on the sketch of the infamous NYC building, and then on every one after until the shift and creak of the bed had stirred you from your focus.

“Captain Rogers—“ you had begun to speak, reaching for the chart and setting it aside in favour of grabbing the needle. Your hand hovered above the tie for his arm and the vial for blood, as you took another pause that was triggered by him speaking over you.

“Steve,” he corrected you and switched positions, coming to sit on the edge of the bed with his left sleeve rolled up past his elbow, “they stripped that title from me.”

You were rendered silent again, only observing him as he was observing you. There was silence, but it wasn’t stagnant as you expected. There was a soft, lingering kind of tension as neither of you had really moved, and you were left to process the news he had given to you. You hadn’t heard anyone address him as the captain that he once was, however you had always thought it was by his choice. You hadn’t expected that it was involuntary, or an action that he had no control of.

“Oh.” It was a single syllable that you had let slip from your lips, one that had broken the silence before you had cleared your throat and shook your head.

The curls in your hair, deemed necessary as part of the uniform and the style that continued before and post-war, had hit your cheeks. Your lips were stained with the unwavering victory red that women had clutched to during the Second World War—which, along with heels and the starch white nurses’ dress, was part of your uniform—had become pursed.

“I’m sorry.” You relayed your emotional state through two words, and then you had mentally shaken yourself to do your job. You grabbed the tie that would go around his arm and lifted it from the metal rolling table, twisting it around your fingers before you straightened it out again.

You took two small steps toward the bed and cleared your throat, raising your head, only for his iridescent eyes to capture yours again. Warmth was instinctually present deep in your heart and soul, akin to an endearing glow from a flickering candle that lit up the surrounding room. You didn’t even have to speak before he extended his arm, and you were already leaning in, drawing the tie around his arm.

“I’m sorry if this hurts,” your voice was soft and there was a hint of a tremble hanging on to the edge as you preemptively apologized for the needle you hadn’t even used yet. You tied the knot to get a good vein, and then you reached behind you for the needle and vial, balancing them in your hands before you bent down to get a good glimpse at the vein.

“You’re nervous,” Steve’s voice had once again drawn your attention away from the needle, and his hand had reached toward you to steady your own. “You won’t hurt me, Y/N.”

Another jolt of electricity passed from his hand to yours, and back again. You were well aware of the lingering staleness that seemed to be ever present in the asylum, the smell of mustiness that seemed to be caked onto every surface possible. And it seemed to be less of an irritant in the room, or maybe there was more to focus on than the stench.

“Are you afraid of needles?” You took a slow deep breath to calm your racing heart and jumpy nerves, before you finally managed to push the tip of the needle beneath his skin into his vein. As you started to draw blood from him, he had answered your question with a very subtle shake of his head; however, there was something else on his mind.

“I know you want to ask why I’m here. Most of the nurses here have asked.” His eyes searched your face as if he were committing every feature, every single thing about you, to some corner of his mind. “They tell me I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.” You recoiled once you had filled the vial and pushed the cap on, standing upright and replacing it on the metal tray. “I’ve seen crazy…”

You wanted to ask why he wanted you to be the one to give him his medication. You wanted to ask why he was refusing any other nurse and yet, you hadn’t been given the chance. There was sparsely a moment for you to say anything else before the door opened with a high-pitched squeak. Steve’s green-blue eyes had drifted away from you to the presence of the person behind you, and you immediately noticed the tension in his jaw.

“Nurse L/N,” Dr. Rollin's voice had hit your ears producing a tentative shudder that had run down your spine, “nurse Hattie had mentioned you were requested.”

You could count the seconds down in your mind before you felt a hand on the small of your back as Dr. Rollins approached the bed. The feel of his fingertips against the starch white material of your nurses’ uniform provided no form of comfort or even anything akin to friendliness. The touch made you want to recoil, and the warmth from his body was almost twisted and nausea-inducing. Your heart clenched, and you understood your mind was telling you to run, to get out of this space immediately.

“You cannot turn away the other nurses who intend to help you, Mr. Rogers.” The complete lack of empathy was evident in Dr. Rollin's voice, as was the blatant choice to not address him as captain. “Nurse L/N is not always available—“

“You haven’t given me my medication yet, nurse.” Steve was blatantly ignoring the doctor, choosing not to acknowledge him at all as if Dr. Rollins was no more than a ghost.

“Medication?” You turned your head, cutting yourself free from the daze that was afflicting you. Once you were freed from the tentative hold Steve had on you, you cupped the pills in your hand and held them out to him.

“Give him the pills and leave, nurse. Mr. Rogers and I need to have a conversation.” Dr. Rollins had addressed Steve with an air of superiority as well as the attempt to hold power over him.

You placed the pills in Steve’s palm, watching him dry swallow them, and then you were sharply turned on your heel. Dr. Rollins turned you away from the bed and Steve, ushering you out of the room with a heavy hand. When the door closed behind you with more force than necessitated, you took a single look over your shoulder. You took a quick glance, and then you moved back to the nurses’ desk, sitting on the wooden chair and exhaling slowly.

Only then had you noticed the feel of something in your pocket. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your nurses’ uniform, feeling sketchbook paper. Your hand recoiled with the paper in hand, and you unfolded it slowly and carefully, your eyes taking in the image you admired so much. The Empire State Building was there laid out in charcoal pencil, perfectly captured had been slipped into your pocket without you even knowing.

[saintgoths]

ꜰᴀᴅᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

JEALOUS!ELLIE X READER - FADE INTO YOU.

WORD COUNT - 2,195.

RATING - G+ [aside from subtle slut shaming, angst & arguing].

SUMMARY - fem!reader is an eye candy and ellie hates it.

[requests are open until i continue posting a song of thorns]. if you want to join a the last of us discord/joel miller discord here you go! 𓆩♡𓆪

if this reaches more than twenty-five notes maybe i'll post a part 2 :)

It had been at least a week subsequently after the eminent disaster of a break-up both you and Ellie had shared, everyone had remembered what they were doing when the argument had disrupted and people had believed that it would be impossible for the both of you to get back together, rude words were being exchanged, one side of the connection jealous and the other defensive.

It couldn’t be denied that both parties should’ve controlled their behaviour and responses, but Ellie had believed that she had been as patient as she could be when it came to you, she had desperately tried to be, but it was difficult when everyone swooned over you, when everyone radically wanted to get into your pants and what made it worse was that you didn’t necessarily play their game but you would giggle at every person who’d flirt with you.

Though as a week passed, you had made hints that you wanted to reconcile and conciliate with Ellie and she was up for it.

Today was your birthday, and you were throwing a gathering at your place, and much people would arrive, specifically people who shared the same age you, you had recently turned nineteen and next year you would have to turn twenty, it scared you shitless, but it made you feel better that you had loyal and honourable friends that would be by you every step.

It would be two hours before the party started but already there was much booze and weed scattered around the surroundings and you had loud music Maria would sure complain about the next day. You had been dressed in a tight attire, a garment that had flattered your physique and make-up that had exalted your features; plus, Dina and Jesse had arrived an hour before your party started to help you set up the rest of your decorations.

You had given them pre-drinks to set them in the mood which they had happily drank, Dina wasn’t one to drink all the time but since it was your birthday, she had given in. “You look sexy,” Dina forwardly complimented as she examined your outfit you had carefully picked out, you were one to have nice clothes by any means, you actually had much people ask to borrow your clothes from time to time.

“Thank you,” you attentively thanked with grace and beckoned your head towards Jesse as a sign of hello.

“Is Ellie coming over?” Jesse asked and you had thought that him hanging around with Dina had caused him to become too blunt compared to his usual self.

“Yeah, she’s coming,” you simply replied as you finished your task of decorating whilst Dina began her course.

You had figured they had wanted to speak about what had happened between you and Ellie, and you were too unbothered to stop them, so you had allowed Dina and Jesse to roll in their questions and comments. “People still speak about the argument you and Ellie had because of that guy.”

You had furrowed your eyebrows, you had moved on from the situation, but people in Jackson consistently loved to gossip. “I remember how angry Ellie was when you two were breaking up, it wasn’t a pretty sight,” Jesse joked as he slumped himself down on your sofa, you had rolled your eyes at him and towards Ellie’s precedent behaviour, she was one to get quickly riled up, sometimes you had felt like you were walking on egg-shells when you were with her.

“Well, Ellie needs to work on her jealousy, insecurities and anger,” you shrugged.

“Well, you need to stop purposely getting Ellie jealous then,” Dina commented, which you had thought was rich for her to say.

“All I do is be hot and she’s mad,” you joked, “plus, the guy wasn’t even my type.”

They had both laughed but you were being honest, the guy Ellie had gotten angry at you about was not so much as close to what you would want in a guy. You were just being friendly, perchance too friendly for Ellie’s liking but she had no reason to blow up like that in front of everyone, she had embarrassed you and made you look like something you were not, a cheat.

In spite of the trio laughing and bickering amongst each other, to a greater extent, people had started to arrive to your birthday party and every time someone had knocked on your front door you had wished it was your auburn-haired ex behind the door, but you had been quietly disappointed when you have been proved other-wise numerous of times.

As time passed on, you had accepted your defeat and wallowed within the conversations and danced, there had been moments you danced with Dina and comically pranced and played with Jesse and Dina while uncontrollably drinking booze you had been continuously offered.

You had then been alerted by someone who had heavily knocked on your front door, it was loud, but you couldn’t complain since the music you had blasted was louder, you had unsealed the door to be met with Ellie, she had appeared more cleaner than you had last seen her, and she had radiated the tough and fierce steaminess you had always been drawn to.

“Hey,” you choked out, surprised that Ellie had in point of fact arrived to your birthday gathering, she had hesitatingly brought you into an embrace, another operation you had been taken aback with.

“Hey,” Ellie kindly whispered, during the moment she had pulled away from you, she had briskly examined the outfit you had clothed yourself with, which had silently developed into a stance of desire, she was impressed by how you were always able to pull of whatever you wore.

“I didn’t think you would come,” you shyly spoke only to be responded with a shocked look composed on the freckled girl’s face.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ellie curiously inquired as she stepped into your cabin and took off her jacket which had unveiled the outfit, she was clothed in.

You had closed the door, confused by Ellie’s aghast nature. “Um, one it’s because you turned up late so I didn’t think you would come, and two, because of what happened last week, you were really angry.”

“Well,” Ellie began as she rebounded to look at you, “I hope we can push it past us.”

You had gently slumped your shoulders, if you were being outright plain, you would have rather push it past the both of you and enjoy the celebration.

You had guided Ellie to the function where people were slow dancing and downing more beverage you had provided.

You had sat down beside Ellie after you had chaperoned cuisine and eatables for the guests who hurriedly took as much food they could. The fare had calmed down the company who joined both you and Ellie; they sat down and enjoyed the aura and efficiency of the party while the music that once played loudly was slowly dialled down to a state where it was comfortable for everyone.

Everyone had then been engaged in a conversation began by Dina whilst Ellie had comfortably immersed herself with pre-rolled weed you had perfectly handled. You had your arm linked with Ellie’s free arm yet engaged with other people’s questions and comments.

“Wait are you and Ellie back together?”

The simple and facile questioned had been bulky and laden enough for Ellie to feel a closed tightness in her chest, she awkwardly tightened the connection she had around your arm in anticipation and buoyancy you would answer with the reply she had wished for. You had stared at the guest who had urged to know about the bond between you and Ellie; and you had just awkwardly smiled. A breathy laugh emerged from your lips whilst you gracelessly shuffled on your seat.

“No.”

Furthermore, what had made it worse for Ellie was the look you had on your face, as if the guest’s question was bizarre. Speedily, Ellie had let go of your arm and had comforted herself as she rebounded on smoking the pre-rolled blunt. She had genuinely believed and adhered things were getting better between the both of you; she had gently clicked her tongue; how stupid and idiotic she had been. To think you would expeditiously fall back into her arms when she turned up to your party. How could she? With the way she had treated and spoken to you that night, of course you wouldn’t willingly come back to her.

Dina and Jesse had caught the unsatisfied look Ellie had all over her face and you hadn’t bothered to look at Ellie who had deeply pouted at your carefree behaviour. The couple had thought Ellie was on the verge of saying something, but she didn’t.

Time had passed and currently people had begun to leave, and you had dreaded the fact that you’ll wake up the next day with a hangover but having to do much cleaning. Dina and Jesse were one of the last ones to leave, the remaining guests being Ellie who comfortably but awkwardly still sat on the spot she had been for the past hours.

“Why are you still here?” You had questioned, sincerely suspicious to why Ellie had decided to remain in your cabin.

Ellie had sat up, her mind cloudy and convoluted to the previous events. “Well, I didn’t want to storm out and make a scene after you made it seem like that person was nuts for asking if we were back together.”

“That’s a surprise because you’re always one to make a scene,” you plainly joked ere you had given yourself the idea to begin to clean up some of the mess that was left by the previous company, back turned towards Ellie who had her mouth open, bothered by your casual and indifferent persona.

“You can be so oblivious, and you don’t realise your behaviour hurts people.”

Finally, you had turned around once again, face very expressive with an entertained and satiate mask. With a sagged bin bag in your hand, you had gently put down the canister bag and forwardly looked at your ex-partner. “You really thought things were going to get better that quick?” You thoroughly asked, face analytical and meddlesome enough to rub Ellie the wrong way. “The way you behaved last week hurt me, because it showed that you don’t trust me, like at all.”

“Then, I’m sorry,” Ellie roughly apologised, disappointed in all aspects that had brought them into this position. You, herself and the guy. “I was insecure, because you are someone who has everyone wrapped around your finger and you can easily move on to someone new if I do the slightest thing wrong.”

“But that has never happened though?” You complained, your shoulders had dropped, unhappy that the bond between you and Ellie would never function the same like old times. “You know if you actually want this relationship to work you have to work on your jealousy,” you muttered before you rebounded on picking on dirty items to put in the binbag, “amongst other things.”

Eventually, humoured, Ellie pushed out a breathy laugh, ashamed and penitent that she had even come to your birthday party. “Well, maybe I’ll start that after you stop flirting with everything that breathes in your direction.”

You had remained silent, calm and hushed to her curt words, withal, your quietness was enough to bear tension. “I’m sorry,” once more, Ellie briskly apologised as she set herself in her habit of playing with her fingers whenever she had felt apprehensive.

“Just get the fuck out Ellie,” you tiredly whispered, you had suddenly ached the warmth of your bed so you can sleep and forget about what had just happened, although, you had forgotten how stubborn Ellie could be.

“Wait---no, I’m sorry, it just came out---”

“That can’t be your excuse every time you say something mean. You always attempt to cover up your harsh ways as a moment of unhappiness when it’s just usually something you’ve always wanted to say.” Frustrated you had walked towards the unsealed front door of your cabin and briskly opened the exit which had loudly implied that you had wanted to her to go in an instant.

Unhappily, she had put her hand on her hips as she walked towards the door, however, before she attempted to leave, she turned to look at you, her face regretful and ashamed of her irrational behaviour. “[Y/N] …look, can we just talk about---”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sternly cut off, your scrutiny avoidant of Ellie’s stare which was deeply fixed into your skin, her hazel-green eyes were always so steel-like that it unceasingly made you nervous. Nonetheless, Ellie had hoped that you would look at her one last time before she left, but as you have consistently done, you had ravaged her wish and left her hopeless. As her hands left her hips, she had dishonourably left your premises, sure that she would over anticipate about what she could’ve done or said that would’ve detoured the current circumstance.

songs that fit this song ⬎

⟶ mazzy star - fade into you. [evidently]

⟶ tame impala - let it happen.

⟶ billie eilish - when the party's over.

[requests are open until i continue posting a song of thorns]. if you want to join a the last of us discord/joel miller discord here you go! 𓆩♡𓆪

masterlist

♆

[cagemasterfantasy]

3rd life Remastered Irl segment 2 part 2/2

Warning. The people portrayed in this story (aside from Slimer) are real and are used in a fictitious manner. This story is entirely satire. This story also features topics of suicide and self harm. You have been warned.

As soon as the banquet begins I am going over mingling with all of the other lifers and the first lifer I run into is none other than Pearl. Pearl: Oh my god how much food are you putting on a plate?" I grin "As much as I can carry and stomach" Pearl: Of course leave it to the foodie to eat everybody's food" My plate is filled to the brim with food that I set down at the nearby table where Jimmy is talking to Bigb and Martyn. Jimmy: OH NO NO NO YOU ARE NOT EATING ALL OF THAT FOOD" "And what are you going to do about it" Martyn: I think we are all going to jack your food while you aren't looking" Pearl: I think that's for the best" That's when doodl3 shows up watching what's going on with Mumbo and Grian. "Do not touch my food" Mumbo: There he goes again rambling on about needing to eat so much. *Sigh* I wish him the best of luck" Grian: The part I dread is the desserts" Bigb: Just tone it down on the food and save some for everybody else" "Tone it down? do you know how much food this hotel produces and hey there's plenty of food left for everyone" Pearl can't help but chuckle. Pearl: Oh hey there Jill nice to see you"

Uh excuse me this banquet hall is for Lifers only. Who let you in?" Mumbo: You mean to tell me you don't know who Jill really is?" What are you talking about?" Grian: Zach (no that's not my Irl name that is Slimer's real name) Jill right here is your editor doodl3" "Grian me and doodl3 have never met how do I know for sure tha-" That's when she pulls out her phone and shows me her Youtube Account showing indeed that she is doodl3. I begin to laugh at this revelation and look over to see Bigb Martyn and Jimmy jacking my food while nobody is watching. "OI. hold on one second" I walk over "You took 2/3 of my food" Martyn: It's not like you need all of that" "I have a large stomach thank you very much" Bigb: Yeah well this food is ours now" "I hate all 3 of you. I hate you Martyn. I hate you Anthony and I especially hate you Jimmy" I head on back over to doodl3. "You know what i love about Jill so much she's not afraid to get into a little mischief. So doodl3 let's make this like Secret Life ok?" I bring her away from prying ears "I'm about to go on stage with Pearl to perform a violin song me and her both agreed on earlier ok? Your task is you see those small whipped pies over on the dessert table?" Jill: Yeah?" "I want you to be the mischief maker that you are and I want you to pie Jimmy Martyn Anthony and Tango. All of them have pissed me off today and I think it's time for some payback" Jill grins with mischeif Jill: Alright just what I needed" Me: Remember be discreet. Don't let them catch on to what you are doing."

I get up on stage with Pearl and take out my violin and begin playing La Vie En Rose and see doodl3 take some of the whipped pies as well as a few other desserts and sit down with Joel John Scott and Impulse. John: Heya there Jill whatcha got there?" Jill: Just a few desserts I'm going around eating and talking at the same time" Scott: Don't be like Zach save some food for everyone" Jill: Oh don't worry I'm not like that glutton" She takes one of the whipped pies and wanders over to where Tango is but not before seeing Rylee go over and sit in Joel's lap. Jill says it for me "Traitor". I see Jill where Tango is but focus on my violin but I'm grinning as Pearl continues to sing. Jill: Hey Tango" Tango: Hey Jill whatcha got there?" Jill: Just a little whipped pie that's what" Tango: So how does it feel now that I'm one of your boss's partners in the remaster" Jill: You mean how you almost got Cleo killed? Yeah she said this is to get even with you" She then takes the pie and slams it in Tango's face. Grian looks over in shock. Grian: Jill what happened?" Tango: I think I just got pied" Grian scowls over at me knowing very well I'm the one who told her to do it. He notices the other pies and tries to piece together who else is next as Jill grabs another pie and a Brownie off of her plate. I grin as Pearl finishes singing I get up before Grian pulls me aside. Grian: Just what are you having her do?" "Can't tell you that it's a task" Grian: What do you- oooooh. So her task is to pie random people?" Me: No. Although you get one more guess with her but no more guesses with me" Grian: So the people aren't random I see"

Jill heads on over to Impulse Grian doesn't say anything as he watches her. Me: Hey lay off the girl alright? Go over and mingle" I head over to the dessert table and grab a whole bunch of desserts but more importantly a whipped pie of my own. Jimmy: You have to be kidding me stop grabbing a bunch of food or we're all going to eat it off of your plate" "You're more than welcome to try" Jimmy: Right time to assemble the food squad again" Jill sees Jimmy going somewhere and tails behind him as I sit down at my table. Jill sees Jimmy headng back with Martyn and Anthony. Jill approaches and pretends to trip on one of her heels and pies Martyn right in the face. Anthony: Hey are you ok?" Jill: Yeah just tripped you ok Martyn?" Martyn: A little whipped cream never hurt anyone. No hard feelings"

Grian is now walking over to me and whispers into my ear "You are absolutely sick" I then hear my voices as Grian is whispering to me and I space out "Do it. Kill yourself right now. They won't care about you." Grian notices and shakes me back into reality. Grian: Get ahold of yourself now isn't the time to be spacing out" Grian knows full well why I'm spacing out but doesn't say anything about it wanting to let me have peace. Grian: You're going to tell me who you told Jill to pie" "Awww but that ruins the fun I will tell you this I instructed her to pie 4 people but I'm not saying who" Suddenly Anthony gets pied by her and Jimmy starts to realize just what is going on.

Jimmy: No you stay away from me" I begin to walk over to assist Jill and whisper to her "psst Grian is on to you I told him you were to pie 4 people but I didn't tell him who try going over to him and pretend like you're going to pie him" Jill has a mischeivious grin on her face as she heads over to where Lizzy is pie in her hand and a cookie in the other. As she goes to "pie" her Grian runs up Grian: Hey Jill are you suppossed to pie Tango Anthony Martyn and Lizzie?" I shake my head at him and Grian is absolutely stunned as Jimmy approaches. Jimmy: Hey what's going on over h-" That's when Jill pies him right in the face JIll: Ugh Why?" "It's payback for not only dumping slime on me when I wasn't ready yet but also for jacking my food" Jimmy: Why am I being punished for protecting the food population" "Because that food wasn't yours" Jimmy: Now 4 good pies wasted" "Jill help yourself to my dessert plate you earned it eat as much as you want" Jill chuckles happily and goes over to where my plate is.

As she goes back my vision begins to glitch a bit. I start to see blood everywhere for a split second. Everyone now in their tuxedos and dresses is now a skeleton. My eyes go wide for a few seconds before Jill leads me over to our table and I snap out of it. I have my hands on my head wondering what I just saw. Jill: You ok?" "Yeah just my voices getting worse"

I head back to my room later Jill behind me. "Right I'll see you at Minecon tomorrow hope you're ready to mod" Jill: Don't worry I'll be ready you just get some rest and mentally prepare yourself. Remember anything can happen" I smirk "I'm a lifer I already know what I'm getting myself into Goodnight Doodl3" Jill: Goodnight Boss Slime"

As soon as Scar enters he gets hit in the face with a cream pie I snuck from the Banquet. Jill then hears from outside my room/ "That's what you get for turning me into a Lobster hahahahhahhahahaahahaha"

When she gets to her room she sees Rylee running up to her.

[tarnishedxknight]

FFXII Week ~ Day 5 Prompt: "If I could protect but one person from war's horror, then I would bear any shame."

{out of dalmasca} Disclaimer: This post may include canon-divergent interpretations of canon characters, info about OCs featured on this blog, and AUs that may not align with the canon plot/characters of FFXII and/or may contain triggering material.

- - - - - - - - - -

I love this quote. It's one of the best in the game, and part of a larger quote and conversation that is honestly my favorite in the entire game. I'll talk about when and why it was said and what it means in the greater context of the plot and the character's background!

This is one of my favorite quotes from Basch, spoken to Ashelia at the Phon Coast as she's discussing the idea of Dalmasca being a protectorate of the Archadian Empire. She feels it's the only way to void a continuing war, but it's shameful for her, because her pride can't abide giving into Archadia. The above quote was part of a larger one in a conversation during which Basch was attempting to help Ashelia take advantage of wisdom he'd gained from making his own terrible mistake years ago. He'd learned the hard way what choosing one's own pride over the good of one's people, or in his case his family, could mean for a person.

Although it was a decision made while he was only a boy of sixteen, choosing to flee to Dalmasca instead of staying with his twin brother and mother was a grave mistake, and in many ways, it has shaped the person Basch became. He recognized the pride and arrogance that caused him to make that decision, and that he lost sight of what was truly important. He realizes that he chose his own pride over family, instead of setting aside his own feelings to do what was right.

Years later, he's teaching Ashelia to do the opposite, to set aside her pride and do what is right for the greater good instead. First, on the Leviathan, when they were reunited after two years:

Ashe: "I will not play puppet to Vayne!" Basch: "King Raminas entrusted me with a task. Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance. It is your birthright: The Dusk Shard. It will warrant the quality of her blood. Only I know where to find it." Ashe: "Wait. You took my father's life! Why spare mine now? You would have me live in shame!" Basch: "If that is your duty, yes." Ashe: *is shocked*

And then again later at the Phon Coast:

Basch: "An alliance between Dalmasca and the Empire?" Ashe: "Reason tells me 'tis the only course. We must avoid a wasting war with the Empire at all cost. Yet I fear I could not bear the shame. Had I but the strength." Basch: "A shame perhaps for me and for you, but for Dalmasca it is hope." Ashe: *becoming frustrated* "And you can just accept this, can you?" Basch: "After Vayne's ruse, I had abandoned hope for honor. Yet never did I forget my knightly vows. If I could protect but one person from war's horror, then I would bear any shame. I would bear it proudly. I could not defend my home. What is shame to me?" Ashe: "My people hate the Empire. They will not accept this." Basch: "There is hope."

So not only does he regret what he did as a youth, but he's learned from it, he will never make the same mistake himself again, and he's trying to teach Ashe to not make it either. Mmm... all that sweet, sweet character development, heh.

Now, I love the greater context of why he said that line and how it was included in everything else he said, but if we just take that one line and analyze it, it has it's own meaning for Basch. Yes, he was trying to teach Ashelia to set aside her pride in favor of finding a solution that furthered the greater good, but beyond that, he's saying something incredibly selfless with that one line.

Basch has seen up close what war is like. He saw his homeland destroyed and almost everyone he knew killed. He'd been fighting for Dalmasca in solidarity with Nabradia for years before he was framed for killing his king and saw his second homeland occupied by the same Empire that destroyed the first. He's seen death, suffering, destruction, grief, plague, starvation, etc., all results of war. And as the events of the game progressed, he saw his longtime friend, Vossler, betray him and Ashe, and he watched Ashe begin to descend into anger and pride, pushing her towards revenge. All of this was enough for Basch to say that war is full of horror... and he wouldn't wish that horror on anyone...

...to such a degree, in fact, that he is stating that he'd be willing to bear any shame... any shame... to protect even one person from war's horror. Just think about that for a second, I mean... there are a lot of ways to shame a person, heh. Basch would proudly bear any of them to protect one person from war's horror. That's... Gosh, he's just such a good guy. That's real honor right there. It's empathy, selflessness, and bravery too. It's an amazing quote from a man who has lived through a lot, seen and done a lot, made his own mistakes, learned from them, and has been trying to give back to society every since. For the simple reason... that he cares.

[archaic-stranger]

tips for.. not procrastinating; ya girl needs it

yeah! as usual, some of these might work for you while others won't. some trial and error will give you a better idea of what techniques are helpful. here are some strategies that i've found effective:

make a list. this is a pretty basic one, but even knowing what you want to get done is a step towards getting it done. break large tasks into manageable, specific, steps - instead of "write term paper", try "research for term paper - 30 min".

a general to-do list is great, but you can also go a step further and sort tasks by how aversive they are. often i procrastinate because there's one thing i really don't want to do, and i'm avoiding it by not doing anything at all. once you know what the most aversive thing is, give yourself permission not to do it. set it aside and pick something less unpleasant to do instead. essentially, procrastinate on something you really don't want to do by doing something you only sort of don't want to do.

have fun with it. brew a cup of tea, put on your favorite music, or use a pen with your favorite color of ink. making your space more appealing won't completely stop you from procrastinating, but it might make it a little easier to get started. try romanticizing the task - you're not taking notes for a class you hate, you're a scholar unraveling the secrets of the universe. it's kind of silly, but having fun, in whatever way works for you, will make it easier to get things done.

just get started. i'm sure you've heard this one before, but it really does work. set a 10 minute timer, or tell yourself you're going to do one math problem, and see what happens. if that's all you get done? great - a little bit of work is far better than none at all.

have someone hold you accountable. this goes hand in hand with the last one - getting started on a task is way easier if someone else tells you "okay, you're going to work on this for 10 minutes". sometimes a bit of encouragement or positive reinforcement from a friend or family member can make a big difference.

plan ahead. when you wake up, set aside a certain time later that day and decide what you're going to work on. it's easier to tell yourself "in two hours, i'm going to work on my math homework for twenty minutes" than it is to say "right now i'm going to get everything done". like with the to-do list, plan tasks that are manageable and specific.

finally, take care of yourself. procrastination isn't always a bad thing - sometimes it's your brain and body letting you know that you need rest. if you keep trying to be productive but just can't find the motivation, remember to be gentle with yourself. procrastination isn't a moral failing - there's nothing wrong with you as a person if you're struggling to get work done. if you have the opportunity, take an evening off. watch some tv or go to bed early. letting your brain rest might feel like a waste of time, but you'll feel more refreshed the next day.

good luck! you've got this, and don't be afraid to ask for additional help if and when you need it. if you're a student, your school might have resources available to help with procrastination and task organization. if not, there are some more in-depth articles here and plenty of other internet resources available to people struggling with the same stuff you are.

[toomanywordsnllines]

Finally got a decent enough drawing to talk a little more about Many!

First I would like to introduce Many's world. Their jewel and their reason to live.

Their little potato - Mimi! (One day I'll make a comic with how the task came to know Mimi but all you have to know is that: The task did not know of her existence, only the captain) she's technically a little older then just a baby but I wanted to show... This side of Many.

So let's talk about Many!

As you can see, they're a parent of a very entusiastic 4 year old (Mimi is hard of hearing and has terrible eye sight since very young (Many calls her, their 'little bat'). Besides other health problems. Many goes far and beyond to make sure she has everything she needs and desires.)

Many had her before joining the task force and that period of time is erased from their file... for privacy reasons.

Child things aside-

There are four (more or less set to stone) rules about Many

1. Don't ask about what's under the mask (unless you want to get on their bad side, then congratulations, you already made half your way there, if not try to redeem your error (good luck)) and per consequence. Don't touch the mask;

2. Don't ask them to emote more (You think they should laugh more? Keep that to yourself unless you want a very hurtful/snappy/rude response);

3. Don't talk about their appearance or what you think they might look like (same thing as point 1, but this one is just Speedrun for them to hate you/avoid you like the plague (if it was a mistake… good luck trying to remedy it));

4. Never make a big deal about them forgetting something (unless it's very urgent or life threatening) (this is the hardest rule to come around and understand because instead of lashing out they just… stop and turn off. Shut down.)

This may make them sound a little like an asshole. But they live by the rule of "I wouldn't ask anyone something like that because it's weird and uncomfortable, so why would anyone ask me that??" (Don't do to others what you wouldn't like to be done to you)

As, I think I said in some other post, Many doesn't have a very tragic backstory.

They grew up with their mother and two siblings (one older, another younger) in a modest appartment. Their father was out working but was always extremly suportive and caring. Loving parents loving family.

Some problems making friends but... pretty alright-

Teenagehood was rough, complicated and ugly and that's where most of their problems started. Because of an incident that happen when they were small (which resulted in 'brain damage' but not like 'worrying' (that's what the doctors said- they were... so wrong)) Their control of their emotions was... almost non existent. Very emotional and empathetic. Very explosive and angry. Messy.

Teenage years didn't make that better... only worse.

Developed severe Athazagoraphobia (fear of forgetting someone or something, as well as a fear of being forgotten) which got worse after they got a concussion and got mild amnesia of the event.

They almost tore and entire room apart, from their panic.

And that's where the panic attacks and anxiety also started full swing.

The fear was born because of their Prosopagnosia (also known as face blindness, in which he is unable to recognize faces) caused by the incident and that... only got worse with age.

Their Prosopagnosia is so... bad to the point where they cannot remember their own face at all (only eye color and hair color) and the Athazagoraphobia was so severe that the two mixed and they developed a form of face dysmorphia (which as you can imagine... only made everything worse)

That's... almost all the story behind the mask

They could not control what other people say and do so... they took the control out of people for there to be any stray comments.

Also It makes it easier for them to describe their face (just a blank white mask) that's why you can only see their eyes and that's why they leave their hair mostly uncovered (things they can remember).

Now if you read the four rules... you can understand why they exist. It's self persevation mixed with self sabotage.

And it's because of that emotional sensitivity that they joined the military (no one wanted them to do it. Their mother begged them not to. But the feeling of being constatly lost and at the brink of exploding all at the same time? was too much and they just felt they needed to be put in line... By people who didn't care about their feelings).

As you can imagine- and seeing how I've drawn them so far- you can see that it suceded somehow. Though is a very negative side. Bottling everything up to the point of apathy and desinterest.

Thankfully it didn't kill them completly... And you can see that.

One mission was enough to make them see that... they didn't need to hide everything and so they didn't. They observe and they look out for others. They care so so much. It's painful. It's so painful but it's the last thing that makes them feel human so they lean into it.

Even though they don't share their name, it's not an actual secret. It's written on their dog tags- First and Last- people just take Many's, quite honestly, scary exterior and don't really get close. Many isn't really a secret, they just live by the rule of, ask if you want information, and if they trust you, they'll share.

They keep it a 'secret' mostly because they cherish the name imensly. It's really important for them.

Also they like the whole being a little anonymus (relief when no one knows who you are, also it helps them train their memory).

They keep a journal to note down things (a human mind can remember so much) and keep a photo of everyone they know there so they can also remember their faces.And although they have... everything more under control then they ever had since young

(And you could feel their relief when they meet the team and see a lot of them use things like masks or glasses or have painted hair or have prominent scars. Things easy to remember.)

And although they have... everything more under control then they ever had since young. There's still moments:

They still have nasty panic attacks. But especially when they forget things (small or big). Or when someone asks them to describe someone they saw/know, and don't take a 'I don't remember as an answer'. (Because it's out of their control-)

They do not look at mirrors or whatever. Avoid them like the plague.

And they still have... self destructive tendencies... (I'll talk more about it on another post but- yeah) BOY THAT GOT LONG MY BAD-

[mrhaitch]

Hihi! This is my first ever ask for you, and I’m quite nervous actually, (I was when I was sending one to Haitch too, I kinda look up to both of you in more ways than one and both of your writing makes my brain tingle✨)

So, my question is more along the lines of seeking your opinion as I feel, you might be the best person who can answer this. (Haitch is welcome to answer it too…I will def appreciate it)

So, being a straight-A student all my life, I made the people around me surprised and kinda miffed when I announced that I wanted a degree in English literature, when any college possible was readily accepting me for any degree in science (which the people around me were subtly nudging me towards. I mean I’m an Asian..it’s a given that they expected me to inevitably go for the most obvious choice)

After six years of grueling and being told over and over that my career has no fruitful future in my country, and an undergrad degree later, I am just a year away from completing and getting a masters degree in English literature. And the self doubt is finally setting in. There are moments where I feel like is it even worth it? Because my end goal is to become a professor.

And I know that it’s gonna be a mediocre pay—which is not the source of my worries, honestly I love literature too much to care—the thing that worries me is, the amount of time it’s gonna take to reach the said end goal.

See, in my country, you gotta clear a national level competitive exam to get a chance to even be an assistant professor in any university. The pass rate is low so to speak. And then I gotta start my PhD. So the thing that scares me is, what If after so much toiling and feeling like I’ve been doing nothing but study, for the entirety of my life, what if I end up actually hating the thing I love?

I just can’t help but feel a bit lost, and I’m scared about losing face in front of the people I stood up against. So as a person who has been a professor—of English literature no less— I need you to lay it straight to me.

Is it worth it? Should I keep going? Because to be honest, keeping my worries aside, I have been eagerly looking forward to that little me I envisioned doing something I love.

Because all this endless studying (I’ve also been trying to learn French since the last 4 years) is giving me a little burnout.

Okay. First things first, take a deep breath as it sounds like you're putting yourself under a lot of pressure so take a moment.

Academia is highly demanding, competitive, undervalued, and underpaid as career paths go. Much of the work you'll do (research, applying for grants, etc) will be unpaid and you'll do it for the love of it, and because it's the only way to secure and keep your job. I'm still very early in my career - I taught for two years and still haven't secured a permanent post as my publishing record still isn't to the required standard. It's likely that I'll be spending the next two to five years undertaking unpaid research, pursuing publications, and attending conferences in my own time and with my own money - all with the hope it'll get me a permanent position.

It still might not.

Even if I do succeed what awaits me is an ever dwindling pension rate, the promise of grotesque levels of overwork and an ever diversifying workload where academics are being required to take on more and more administrative tasks, ON TOP of their research, teaching, and pastoral responsibilities.

And no one will thank me - in the UK academics are heavily criticised by the press and the public at large.

But I'll still do it, I'll still chase it.

The main question is why? (Or as I had to say in terrible workshops I was forced to run in my previous job: 'what's your why?')

Academia is like healthcare, or policing, or social work, or any traditional vocational role: you tend to already know if it's what you want, and what you're going to push yourself beyond all reason to get to. You know it's hard, and unpleasant, and thankless, but part of you doesn't care - you'll likely do it anyway.

Burn out is a risk, as it is with any demanding career paths. You'll likely have many moments where you'll want to quit, or take up sewing, or anything at all that isn't what you're currently doing. There'll also be moments where it all feels worth it - looking out across a classroom and seeing a student fully understand what you're saying, that they get it; or having colleagues read your work and engage with it like it's a valuable contribution; or speaking in front of an engaged audience who value and appreciate what you're doing.

I have no definitive answers for you. I don't know your situation, I don't know your country or what the academic culture is there - I can only speak from my own experiences and from what I know.

What I can say is this: if this is what you want, truly and deeply, then go in with both eyes open. Never forget the challenges or the problems, never let yourself be lulled into a fantasy: know what you're doing and your reasons for doing it. Do it because you love it, because you'll need that love. Do it because you have something to say, something to put out into the world because that will be the thing that keeps you going when it's hard.

If this is what you want, be prepared to fail and fail often. Be prepared to be frustrated, and for people to suggest you quit and try something else (they mean well, mostly).

But also be prepared to be utterly smitten with and moved by your work, by your students, by that feeling of contributing to the ever deepening well of human knowledge. It's beautiful, it's bad, but it's beautiful.

[pricescigar]

A Price to pay for Pt.2

John Price X Elvira Wolff

Summary: Price and Elvira's relationship becomes strained after their shenanigans when both of them got drunk. Despite all of that. One person in the shadows has other plans.

Elvira spent the morning crying her eyes out, despite her being so upset Elvira had things to do; Changing her clothes and tidying up her home a little before she finally decided to make herself lunch around 13:00pm, feeling like a total idiot crying like this. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, doing her breathing exercises and wiping the tears from her eyes. She felt incredibly numb and mentally exhausted, hell Elvira didn't even want to see Price later. That has never been like her before, but at the end of the day… It was her job. She had to. She kept on thinking about what Price said to her during breakfast, making her heart ache even more.

"I didn't hate what we did last night, I loved it. I loved it a lot, but… If anyone found out about us, you'd be an easy target."

Which was true, yet. Elvira had her shares of defending herself with no hesitation. Actions have consequences as they say. And Elvira would do anything to defend herself, her workers and the Task Force. So even then it wouldn't bother her, if her life would forever be in constant danger. Guess that's where she always got her adrenaline from. But what was different this time? If only she knew… What's worse she never expected it to turn out to be some small fling and that would be it.

Elvira made herself something small and light to eat, since she didn't want to make any mess. She made a ham and cheese sandwich and had a glass of Orange Juice aside, staring off into space as she ate her food. For most of the morning Elvira ignored her phone, feeling it vibrating away. She just didn't feel like looking at it, what if he messaged her? After cleaning up from her mess from lunch and getting rid of the small bread crumbs, she finally sat down on her sofa and looked through her messages.

It was Soap, she huffed a little in relied as she opened the message and she began to read it:

"Hey, we're havin' a party at the end of the month, on the 30th ye gonna join us?"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

Elvira simply replied to the text and left her phone aside, she placed a hand over face. Why do these kind of things happen to her, of all people… Why her. Before she would leave to meet Price again, Elvira spent the remainder of her time in her office. Making sure the guns were in pristine condition and that the safety was on and all of the ammo was in their respective boxes.

Packing the things in her car and she made the drive back to his home, Elvira hoped deep down nothing would be awake between them. But it would only be awkward if she made it awake herself, parking her car outside his home she took a deep breath.

"You can do this Elvira, just like any other visit…" Elvira spoke to herself, nodding. "Just like any other visit and day…" She mumbled, getting out of her car and closing the door. Getting the bags out of the car boot, carrying it over her shoulders. Once her car was locked, she made her way over to the door knocking on it.

The same old Butler opened the door for her and showed her the way in, and she walked into the living room. This time Ghost, Soap and Gaz were there relaxing.

"Oh hey Elvira!" Gaz greeted her, his eyes easily peered over to the bags she was carrying. "Nice our weapons! Can we have a look?" He asked.

"Hallo Gaz, and of course. They're yours after all." Elvira set the bags down near them, and she sat on the other sofa next to Soap.

"Just to let you know, Price is currently in a meeting. He'll be out soon though." Ghost looked at Elvira.

Elvira nodded to him. "Danke." She simply said, She wasn't really in the mood to talk that much. The heartache was still there, it was distracting her.

Ghost and Gaz were the first ones to open the bags, taking a first look at their new weapons.

Soap gently nudged Elvira since she was in her own world, he looked at her and grinned. "Why was the strawberry crying?"

Elvira looked at Soap when he nudged her. "Hm?" She raised an eyebrow. "Why was the strawberry crying…" She mumbled to herself.

"Johnny, don't torment Elvira with your ship jokes." Ghost commented bluntly, as he began to load the gun with its ammo.

Elvira shrugged. "I don't know, why was the Strawberry crying?" She asked him.

"Because he was in a Jam." Soap said with a laugh, Ghost and Gaz groaned in annoyance at the joke. However, it made Elvira chuckle a little. At least it cheered her up a little.

There was a moment of silence before Soap leaned back on the sofa putting his hands behind his head. "We heard what happened." He commented.

"Hm? What are you talking about?" Elvira looked at Soap confused, she saw the look everyone had on their faces before then sighing softly. "...We agreed it was better off staying as friends, it's just how it is." She shrugged.

"Yeah but you guys make it obvious that you like each other a lot." Gaz pointed out to her.

Elvira shrugged. "Look… He told me it was too dangerous, I get that. I can't argue with him on that, to make things easier… We're just going to remain as friends." She mumbled.

Price soon walked into the living room seeing everyone, greeting them as he walked in. "Sorry everyone, the meeting went on a little longer than I expected." He turned to Elvira, giving her a polite nod. "Elvira…"

Elvira looked at Price. "Good afternoon Price." She replied to him, there was all but a small silence after that. Her mind kept on going back to what they did last night, but she remained professional. "Anyway… I should go." She added standing up from the sofa.

"Oh we were about to have a late lunch, wouldn't you like to have some before you go?" Gaz offered to her.

"Well…" Elvira mumbled a little before nodding. "Guess it wouldn't hurt, I appreciate the hospitality." She sat herself down.

"Thank you for bringing the weapons Elvira." Price knelt down grabbing one of the weapons and observed them. "Perfect as always."

"Anything for you Price." Elvira replied to him, she watched them sort out all of their weapons letting them talk amongst themselves.

They soon found themselves in the dining room together, Soap, Gaz and Ghost were the first ones in and took their seats. All the while Elvira and Price sat next together, you could tell they definitely planned this.

Elvira wasn't the one to really speak that much when she ate, only when she was spoken to. Then she'd talk. Old habits die hard.

"So … What's the party for?" Elvira asked curiously wanting to break the ice, part of her kept over thinking there was tension between her and Price.

"The party is for us, we'll celebrate how successful we've been over the last couple of weeks." Price explained to Elvira, he kept his eyes down on the food.

Elvira nodded. "I'll be there, don't worry." She reassured them, during the whole duration of lunch Elvira and Price didn't make any eye contact with each other.

The others clearly noticed this, they even exchanged looks and with a shrug they continued to have lunch. Mainly they were the ones to keep the conversations up hold, and before they knew it Elvira left to go home.

"Why didn't you stay together anyway? Both of you are skilled enough to keep each other safe." Gaz questioned Price, as he watched him do his paperwork.

"Gaz… It's dangerous. Far too dangerous, she's an arms dealer. And the moment someone finds her, kidnaps her. They'll use her to get to me." Price replied in a serious tone. "Better off that we are not together anyway."

"You'll regret it someday…" Gaz observed him a little longer, before he finally left Price's office. Price sighed in annoyance, he continued on with his work.

A few weeks had passed and it was a day before the party, which was tomorrow. During the last two and a half weeks, Elvira couldn't help but notice Price becoming distant with her. Day by day… She could see through the text messages, or whenever Price and the gang visited her Warehouse as well. She tried not to let it get to her, but it was becoming more difficult day by day.

For the first time ever he declined having drinks with her at the end of the month. Price said that he was busy, which she didn't mind of course. But not having drinks with him on that Friday felt strange, it was the only thing that kept her occupied and forgot how lonely she actually was. It upset her.

Did he not want to see her anymore? Was he making excuses? It made her overthink a lot, was she even a part of them as a family, due to the strain between her and Price? So many questions were running through her mind. Elvira was trying to hold on, the little hope she had… Maybe he would change his mind.

On the sidelines the tension between Shadow and TF141 was increasing day by day, Graves and Price was known to have such a rivalry. But it has never been this bad before, Graves knew he had to do something to entice Price. To get him out of the Shadows, and he had the perfect idea to do that.

Elvira was getting dressed for the party, she dressed up a little out of her comfort zone. But maybe this will make him notice, she wore a dress for the first time in her life. And do a little bit of makeup, was this too much? Well it was only this one time… So what harm can it do?

Elvira got her leather jacket, putting it around her shoulders. Gathering all of her things before finally leaving. One of her workers offered to drop her off, since she wanted to drink and gladly accepted the offer. Upon arrival she felt nervous, Elvira got out of the car thanking her worker before entering Price's home.

Elvira gave her jacket to a butler and they hung it up for her, she found her way into the living room where everyone else was. There were a lot of people who attended this party, even she was surprised herself. She gently took a glass of wine from the butler who was carrying it.

She drank her wine a little, looking around a little, she saw a couple of people staring at her. However Elvira paid no mind to it. She saw Ghost, Soap and Gaz hanging out together. Elvira took the chance to greet them.

"Oh you look beautiful Elvira!" Gaz complimented her with a smile on his face.

"Yeah you do." Ghost and Soap nodded in agreement also which made Elvira smile.

"Danke… This is the first time I'm wearing a dress, I just wanted to get out of my comfort zone." Elvira explained to them and held onto her wine glass.

"For Price." Soap lightly teased with a chuckle, before taking a sip from his beer.

"Damnit … Well you got me there…" Elvira mumbled and continued to drink her wine glass. "I'll go try and find him." She went off.

"Good luck." Soap waved goodbye, leaning against the wall keeping a close eye on the overs. The party seemed to be going well so far.

At some point Elvira got talking to Erik, another mobster from Germany who visited Price because of his party. Elvira didn't know Erik that well, but he was nice enough when she met him a couple of times. And the weapons she had given to him on the odd occasion.

Erik was known to be flirtatious, he was every woman's dream man. Except for Elvira… She wasn't really interested in him, she only saw him as a good friend and colleague. Dressed smartly for the occasion, his dark brown hair slicked back and his Hazel eyes staring at her.

"You look really beautiful tonight Elvira, would you like a drink?" Erik offered to her to which Elvira politely refused.

"I got my drink right here danke." Elvira smiled weakly and looked around a little. Still trying to keep an eye out for Price, but he was nowhere to be seen…

"Dare I confess something to you?" Erik gave her a flirtatious smile, keeping his eyes on her.

"Oh? What is it?" Elvira asked in curiosity, finishing her wine and leaving it aside looking back at him.

"I think I'm in love with you Elvira, it saddens me to see you keep on working like this." Erik confessed to her. "I can make you happy, with the money you have and I have… You would never have to work a day again… Will you allow me to take you out on a date sometime?"

Elvira was stunned and surprised to hear him. "Oh… I, well I do appreciate you being honest Erik but I don't see you that way…" She said softly.

Before Erik could say anything else up came Price he grabbed Erik by the collar of his shirt, shoving him away from Elvira.

"Get away from her you muppet!" Price sat at him, he turned to Elvira and all time seemed to stop. God. She looked so beautiful in that dress, he sighed a little. Focus John. "Are you alright?" He spoke softly.

Elvira nodded a little. "I'm fine but… Why did you get involved? I was dealing with it." She looked up at him.

"Elvira. That man is a horndog, he does all he can fuck anyone he sees. I had to teach him a lesson." Price replied to her, crossing his arms. "He wouldn't have left you alone."

She chuckled a little at what he said. "Why… Are you jealous? Price?" Elvira raised an eyebrow at him.

"No I'm not jealous Elvira, I'm keeping you safe from men like him." Price sighed, shaking his head. Already they were bickering over a small minor problem.

At this point she was getting annoyed, Elvira was frustrated and upset at the fact he was being distant. And now he was getting involved with this? "I don't need to be kept safe, Price. Why do you care so much?" Elvira questioned him.

"Because I do. And I care a lot about you." Price argued back with her, a few people stopped talking to see what was going on, they watched closely.

"If you cared a lot about me you wouldn't have been avoiding me this whole time." Elvira glared at him, she earned away, Price gently took her wrist.

"Elvira! Wait! Please…" Price spoke softly, Elvira wasn't in the mood to hear him, she pulled her arm away from him and walked towards the door. She retrieved her coat and walked out of his house.

Elvira wrapped her jacket around her body and she walked down the street, she didn't care how dark it was. As Elvira was walking down the street, she heard a Car pull up behind her. Two doors opened and two men covered in a black outfit and balaclavas grabbed her.

"Hey! Get off of me!" Elvira kicked one of the men in the area which he groaned in pain, kneeling down to the ground holding his crotch. The other man knocked her out, and took her in the car. Both of the men got into the car quickly and drove away. That was the last time they heard from Elvira that night.

-

[ Pt. 3 ]