#i think i've posted that second snippet before

[pinkaditty]

another snippet except it's two different fics this time (haku kusanagi x reader; subaru kagami x reader)

hi hey yea its me again everyone eat this 2 hopefully tide u over bc i feel bad abt not making as quick progress as i thought i would. i fear i've been brainrotting over these so bad that my brain cannot bring myself 2 write bc im so tortured by The Visions™.

i have no timeline 4 when the fics will be posted but im off work all of next week so yk what that means!!!!!!!!! hopefully they'll be posted next week or so... i apologize 4 the delay <3 thank u all 4 ur patience!

Links 2 the first parts in case u haven't seen them:

Victim: Part One; There's a Snake Under Your Bed! (Perv!SlightYan!Haku Kusanagi x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

Victim: Haku's POV Bonus

Visions: Part One (Yan!Perv!Subaru Kagami x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

Sneak Peek of Victim: Part Two; There's a Hawk at Your Window!:

There you were, at his window, staring like a hawk. He swallows, strained, watching your gaze like a deer caught in headlights. He’s frozen, unable to move. He feels his mouth go dry as he breathes heavily, trying to control his heart pounding with nerves. Why did this feel… petrifying? He felt more than watched, he felt tracked. Hunted, even. For how long had your gaze been following him and for how long had he not noticed? There was something predatory in the way your eyes didn’t move from his form, unblinking, undisturbed. A shiver runs down his spine. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears now, a strange feeling between fear and apprehension and mysterious arousal filling his senses. You doing this was odd, but, something in him was actually-

He’s snapped out of his stupor by you knocking on the window again, your gaze returned to normal, your expression confused. He blinks, his mind catching up to reality. What even was that? Your expression seemed normal now, the predatory feeling dissipating immediately. No more fear, no more apprehension. An odd numbness remained instead, along with the arousal, still swimming in his abdomen. He shakes his head. Maybe he’d been seeing things. He glances down at his topless form, debating putting on a shirt, but at your second set of hurried knocks, he decides you’re far more important anyway.

He marches over to the window, letting his face spread into a lazy grin. Regardless of whether you were staring at him or not, he was always happy to see you. He unlocks it and slides it open, his smile widening when he sees you’re only in your pajamas.

“Gotta say, Juliet, I really don’t think this is how the book went.” Haku’s smile is nothing short of lovestruck, resting his arms on the windowsill and gazing out at you. He notes your gaze wandering over his bare skin, and makes no effort to hide himself, his smile transforming into a teasing grin. He props his chin up in his hand, lifting an eyebrow at you. “I’m supposed to be sneaking to your window, aren’t I?”

His heart feels warm at your fond sigh, the sound sweeter to his ears than any melody he’s ever played on his flute. You move closer to the window, reaching up with your hands to place them on the windowsill. “Yea. Sometimes though, a girl’s gotta take initiative.” Your smirk only serves to warm his heart further. You then hold your arms up towards him, tilting your head. “Help me up?”

He mimics your fond sigh from earlier, reaching down to circle his arms around your back. He’s very glad he decided not to put a shirt on before coming to the window. His hair and chest were still damp from his shower, and some light droplets of water drips onto your shoulder as he holds you. He purposely lets his breath trail behind your ear, reveling in how you try to suppress a shiver. “Hold on,” he murmurs in your ear, tightening his grip around your sides as he prepares to pull you up. He feels you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as much as you could from this angle. He slowly lifts you from the ground, carefully pulling you inside, ensuring your pajamas don’t get caught on the window. When he’s pulled you in, he moves one arm further down your body to hold your waist as he gently sets you down, keeping his arms around you a moment longer than necessary. 

He pulls away once he’s sure you’re steady, keeping his left hand on your waist and pretending to brush away dust from your chest so he can feel the plushness of it for only a moment. “Alright, princess.” He moves back to the window and slides it closed again, locking it. “To what do I owe this late night visit?”

Haku couldn’t believe his luck. Here, in front of him, was the object of his desires, in a room alone with him, in her pajamas, with him topless. This could go a million ways, and he was really trying not to make it obvious where his mind was headed.

Sneak Peek of Visions: Part Two:

He pretended to bury himself in a project, as most Hotarubi students do, hoping you’d recognize that he wanted this to go no further. The “project” technically wasn’t an excuse, especially since he was working on his own recovery. His voice was still rough from overuse, his skin was still covered in bruises and hickeys and your fingerprints, and he still had trouble walking in a straight line if his mind so much as wandered to an implication of that night. He constantly felt distracted, so much so that, if he even chose to go to class, he would end up staring aimlessly at the walls or through windows. He would try not to let his thoughts find their way to you, but they always did. Anyone who noticed thankfully chalked it up to his poor excuse of a project, but the balance was still disturbed. Things were still wrong. He couldn’t find his previous footing any longer. He has to resist the urge to knock on your door again, and plead for some form of freedom. 

It’s becoming frustrating to him. This was not the plan. 

He was not supposed to flinch. He was not supposed to falter. He was not supposed to break. And yet, here he was. He flinched every time he heard your voice, trying his best to shoo off the memory of how your voice transformed into moans above him. He faltered every time you made eye contact with him, quickly glancing away and hoping you wouldn’t consider his silence impolite. There were more cracks forming in his facade than before, rapidly spreading throughout his body, threatening a nearly inevitable break. He was flinching. He was faltering. He was breaking. This was not at all appropriate, not in the slightest. He had thought that, from indulging once, his mind would finally be clear of it. But the bruises wouldn’t go away, clear evidence of his disobedience and ignorance and straying sight. The proof of his desires, littered over him in bright color, red and blue and purple. The ghost of the taste of you remained on his tongue and the sounds you mutually made at your bodies entwining replays in his ears like a broken record. At night, he’d have to resist the urge to press on his bruises, attempting to reignite the pain and pleasure you’d so masterfully enacted on him then. He’d never been so far gone.

He was supposed to be good at resisting temptation. This was supposed to be a slip up to remind him of his role to play, and the rewards that come with discipline and self-control. And yet, his brain always seemed to stop at the same question: why did the indulgence feel so good? So liberating? If the indulgence was forbidden, by his own hand no less, how long had he deprived himself for the slightest bit of leeway to feel like heaven itself? Would it feel like that every time he gave in? 

Indulgence had not been the cure-all he’d expected. How could he be such a fool? Of course, temptation was never to be followed. Desires were never to be fed. Indulgence was the opposite of control. There had to be a way to salvage this. There had to be.

these r, ofc, not the final versions and when i post the completed fics these parts may be edited. either way, please enjoy!!!!!!! i promise ill get the fics out soon i swear im just sooooooooooo insane about these and when i get insane about a fic i almost can't write it LMFAOOOO so hold on everyone! i promise i will do my best 2 make it up 2 u all!!!!!

as always........... let me know what ur thinking!!!!!!!!! i love tagged reblogs and comments and asks detailing what u liked!! likes r also appreciated!!!!!!

okok im going 2 go rest now ive been sitting at my laptop 4 hours. but i've made good progress!

[charlie-pippin-faraday]

hello again but we were also so cheated out of patricia and jerome bonding over being kidnapped by rufus we rly could’ve had it all smh my head

I LITERALLY THINK ABOUT THIS ALL THE TIME

Like those were separate but extremely similar circumstances that happened to the both of them, and like the similarities are obvious to us the audience but in the show they never directly make that connection, and Jerome and Patricia never really talk about Rufus with each other, not even a passing mention, really. And I wanted them to talk about it with each other SO BAD. It would’ve been nice to see them bond and also I think it would’ve helped them both heal a bit. Like Patricia regularly had nightmares in S1, and you can see the complete and utter terror in Jerome’s eyes when he sees Rufus again in S2. They’re both obviously very traumatized by him and undoubtedly never had any kind of therapy for it. I would’ve liked to see them work through the lasting trauma at all (cause the after effects aren’t rally mentioned at all in the show) but I especially would’ve liked to see them do it together and talk through everything with someone who understood.

Cause like. Rufus was awful to all of them, but he tormented and fucked up those two significantly more than the rest

The things he did to Patricia include:

Stalked her and kind of menacingly watched her around campus?? And made her think she was crazy and seeing things and thus making everyone think she was the girl who cried wolf??

Approached her in the middle of the woods and clearly scared her. Like an adult man following and approaching a 16 year old girl alone in the woods? Creepy creepy awful creepy

BROKE INTO THE HOUSE AND WATCHED HER SLEEP?????

When she was in a vulnerable state, promised to give her what she wanted most (finding Joy), thus reeling her in and making her trust him

Manipulated her into giving him information and making her try to steal the locket, and telling her he was the only person she should trust because he was getting her what she wanted (Joy), telling her to keep everything a secret and not tell any adults OR her friends, effectively cutting her off from everyone

Used the trust he had cultivated to rope her in and even get her in his car, and the SECOND she stepped out of line he broke that trust and turned on her

Kidnapped her and kept her locked up in a warehouse for well over 24 hours and put his hands on her and threatened her and was just a total creep to her in a way that legitimately sends chills down my spine

Tried to use her as a bargaining chip but then PSYCH he was never actually intending on giving her back at all, and was THIS CLOSE to driving off with her again to do who knows what to her. I can’t let myself go down that line of thinking else I start feeling sick to my stomach

The things he did to Jerome include:

When another teenager approached him, he did not hesitate to once again use him for his own gain

Though unlike Patricia he never even bothered trying to garner trust, he just went straight from business transaction to intimidation

Forced Jerome to give him information

Paid Jerome a bunch of money and then seemingly got mad when he spent it, which tbh that was your own fault Rufus

Upped the ante and forced him to actually steal all the pieces and actually threatened him with violence to his face. I actually went back and looked at this one, he tells Jerome “I will mummify you alive.”

Scared Jerome so fucking bad that he betrayed his friends and tried to comply with his demands because he felt he had no other choice and that Rufus might actually murder him

Kidnapped Jerome - this time he didn’t coax him into a car and drive off with him, but he swiped him from the house in the middle of the night

Kept him locked up in a barn once again for well over 24 hours, and though he called him a pawn/leverage/insurance, his purpose with him felt a little less clear with him than with Patricia and that’s arguably more terrifying

When Jerome escaped into the hay maze, taunted and toyed with him until he was able to lock him up again

Threatened to do something to Poppy if Jerome didn’t comply

And we all know he would’ve done SO much worse if HOA had a higher rating

I’ve always liked the Jerome and Patricia friendship, probably more than most on HOA tumblr, and I would’ve liked to see the two of them talk about this. It would’ve helped them bond and then open up to each other and create a new dynamic of their friendship. And also, like, Jerome knows Rufus kidnapped Patricia, but I don’t think he knows the full extent of how Rufus was manipulating her for weeks beforehand and how much the kidnapping actually fucked her up. And for someone who was tormented by Rufus as much as Jerome was I feel like it’s only right that he should’ve known all that. I really wanted the Rufus trauma victims support group. Real sad they never got into that in S3, I would’ve liked that very much

Also I have multiple WIPs in my google docs which have this storyline included in it, I wasn’t kidding when I said I think about this a bunch. Enjoy some snippets from some of my different fics:

[valdevia]

Very funny that tumblr is having discourse about whether my art is misinformation or not, after I've been posting it all over the internet for years without any controversy. So let's talk about it!

I know people arguing are a vocal minority, but I'm not going to dismiss anyone's concerns. It's an actually interesting topic that I really consider, and it touches some important issues in society. So here's my (rambly) two cents.

My art is meant to misdirect, in some way. Photomanipulation and the tone I typically use are meant to briefly confuse the person reading it into thinking they're hearing a real story, at least for a few seconds.

The Intended Experience™

In this sense, I feel like my art can be misinformation! And it's not only people who don't think critically about things like "how come I never heard about mermaids being real before?".

So, no disrespect to anyone that fell for one of my pieces! My work plays with reality, so if you fell for it for more than a minute, it just means my tone and style worked a little too well for you! And there are legitimate reasons to be confused when you see something online, too. For example, there are people who can have trouble telling real and fictional things apart. When you post something that goes out to a million people, you'll get one million different reactions.

That's why I always take care to make it really clear, outside the main piece and snippet of text, that my art is no more than fiction. There are tags, the tone of my account, even my profile picture is meant to reinforce this. I also have a website which, in part, is meant to capture the clicks of people to wonder if my stuff is real and google it, so they can find a real source that's clearly an art website. You can try googling "mycelium infection 1806" or "pupillosarcoma" to see how my website tends to appear first.

If I get this comment I know I've done something believable!

But let's say, for the sake of argument, that my art wholly constitutes misinformation. What we need to understand is that misinformation is not the same as disinformation. Misinformation is just incorrect information. It's your grandma seeing a little bit of a found footage movie on TV and thinking it really happened. She might be spooked, but nobody is harmed. Disinformation is false information that's purposefully crafted and spread in order to cause harm, division, or further a political view.

Now I ask you: what real world harm does my art create? The worst that can happen is that a tiny percentage of those that see it get a little scared thinking a weird bug is real, or that mushrooms really grow on faces, or that scientists have released millions of trilobites into the oceans. Is that really that bad?

Anyway, that's my take on the topic! I'm obviously biased, but this being my style, I do put a lot of thought into it and I'm always open to people's opinions! (Just don't scream at random people on the replies or you'll get blocked!)

[planete777]

LEAF TAPES 2・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri )

read part 1!

IN WHICH. after months of radio silence, y/n and lando go trending for the same thing again... but this time, it's not only them.

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, non consensual explicit video leaked, sexual descriptions, twitter environement, mentions of getting high (as per), very self indulgent so just sit back and enjoy

NOTE. it's finally here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i've answered your requests, i hope you guys like it. my back aches from doing this so im gonna knock myself out lol. anyways, last fic for a few weeks, but i'll still be online/idle so u can still drop by my inbox if u want. okay ill let u go now bye and enjoy!!!!!

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu @multifandomwhore-003 (use askbox if you'd like to be added!)

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yn_ln

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 789,331 others

yn_ln life lately <3

>comments<

landonorris literally obsessed with you

landonorris love the last picture who's that on the left -> yn_ln what happened to being obsessed with me :((( -> landonorris sorry 😅 i mean the left. -> user 😭

user oscar cameo!!!!! OSCAR!!! CAMEO!!!

user i want both of them!!11!!1!1! i can take both of you!!!! -> user so real

user couple goals.... brb just setting up the toaster and the bath

oscarpiastri picture 2.... minutes before disaster -> landonorris disaster??? i found it pretty entertaining -> yn_ln i'm still recovering 🤭 -> user CARE TO SHARE??? I WANNA KNOW!!! -> user yn girlie............ let's gossip -> yn_ln no can do luv xx 😌

oscarpiastri anyways i look so good -> yn_ln humble yourself babe x -> landonorris what she said ^ -> user don't listen to them oscar, you do love good ❤ -> oscarpiastri trust me, i know 😏

lily_mhe loved going out with u bby <3 -> yn_ln yes!! we should do it again.... without the boys 😒 -> alexalbon uhm wow -> landonorris i need to get used to sharing the loml </3 -> oscarpiastri lol -> yn_ln 🤭

user she's so pretty "$%$£"£$(!"£$

user why are they being so cryptic 😩 -> user they wanna kill me

user 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 -> user i've got so many questions

user lily and y/n are for the girlies xx sorry i do not make the rules -> yn_ln speak it!!! -> lily_mhe yup!!

maxfewtrell no pic creds?? -> yn_ln i can give donations? -> user LMAOAOAO -> user max being bullied pt 2838474

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landonorris

liked by yn_ln, oscarpiastri and 1,302,811 others

landonorris ♾

<comments>

yn_ln look at us trending for the second time in 2 months 😝 -> landonorris ikr such icons -> oscarpiastri quite fun tbh -> user 😭 -> user u lot realllyyyyy dgaf and i love that for you

oscarpiastri i give the best cuddles ik -> landonorris u also give the best 🧠 -> yn_ln AND WHAT ABT ME? -> landonorris oh yeah... ig -> user what the fuck is going on??? 😭 -> user in broad daylist insta comments

user im surprised he didn't post a lil snippet on ig like yn did last time -> user literally 💀 -> user he wants us to have the full experience on twt fr

carlossainz55 im begging u, plz no more -> alexalbon 🙏 -> charlesleclerc 🙏 -> georgerussell 🙏 -> pierregasly 🙏 -> yukitsunoda 🙏 -> danielricciardo 🙏 -> lewishamilton 🙏 -> user they are going THROUGH IT!! -> landonorris we'll think abt it

user surprised, but not disappointed

yn_ln no more 🐱 for u! -> landonorris NO. U CAN'T DO THIS TO ME. -> user he survives purely off of the kitty cat. i support the hustle -> oscarpiastri spare the man 🙏 -> yn_ln nah he can just watch -> oscarpiastri fine by me

user foursome?? -> user join the line

[taegularities]

dearest gentle reader… 👑

candles & flames: downpour 🤍

dropping next Friday, November 22nd, 8pm EST. might shift to Saturday in case i need more time to edit.

i really wanted to post it before my birthday, but i don't think that'll be possible anymore :') but it's okay. lil present from me to you :D

it's already around 22k long and i'm expecting it to reach around 30k by the time it's finished. will try my best with this one!! i believe it offers… a wide range of emotions lmao. again, take your time reading it <3

gather round!!! this is a rollercoaster. i've been working on this for months and y'all's contributions and enthusiasm really helped. i know some of you have been anticipating it, so i really really hope it's worth the wait and the read. so don't forget to cheer for me until and after the drop as you're always kind enough to do 🥺

this is the second last bonus chapter. we'll be bidding them farewell soon <3 see you then 🤍

big, big snippet under the cut! 💕

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👑 let's talk about it | join the taglist 👑

[tj-is-down]

Ten Dollars (Line Cook! Scott Miller x Reader)

Okay so somebody posted a headcanon of Scott Miller but as a line cook (I believe it was @glossykissies) and I literally cannot stop thinking about it. I've plotted a whole story about him in my brain, and this is but a small snippet and all I've put in words. Just a quick warning that this is not proofread and if you see an error I will cry. But I think it's cute! So here it is.

Summary: Reader gets a shitty tip from a customer, and Scott has something to say about it

Word count: ~950 (I'm sorry this is so short! But if it goes well I'll hopefully post more.)

Warnings: Swearing, that's really it. Insecurities, reader is compared to another (girl) character.

I walk into the kitchen and hand a bill to Scott. He glances up at me, only for a second, before flipping a few burgers on the grill top.

“Cooks don’t take tips,” he says plainly.

“He wanted me to give it to you, specifically,” I rebuttal, almost muttering in annoyance. If Scott notices, he doesn’t show it. “‘‘My compliments to the chef,’ or whatever.”

“Cooks don’t take tips,” Scott repeats, and he stops what he’s doing before moving onto something else. “Ten bucks? How much did he give you?”

I grumble. “Five.”

“Five?” Scott asks, slightly miffed. “Well, you should definitely keep it then. Five bucks? That’s like, barely twenty percent, even if he only ordered a kid’s meal.”

“He had two kids' meals,” I say, this time definitely muttering. Scott raises an eyebrow, and I nod my head towards the dining room. “Table thirteen, party of four. Parents and their two kids. Will you just take the ten, Scott?”

“I’m not taking the ten, Y/N. He looks over my head, through the kitchen window towards Table 13. “And you should’ve told me before they left. I would’ve gotten you a tip.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” I say, a slight smile before pushing the money into his hands. “Take the money, Scott. I don’t want it.”

He pushes my hands back towards my torso. “I’m not taking it, Y/N. Especially after he stiffed you so much.”

“Fine,” I shrug indifferently. “I’m putting it in the register, then.”

He grabs my arm as I walk past him, both gentle and firm. His calloused hands are rough against my skin, and though he’s been by the grill all day he’s still cold enough for me to shiver. “Can’t do that. You’ll throw off the pull. Keep the money, Y/N. Seriously.”

I shake him off. “I don’t want it!” I almost shout, and a few of the servers walking past the two of us look over at me in surprise. Even Scott looks taken aback, showing more emotion than I’ve probably ever seen from him.

“What’s the deal?” He asks quietly. His tone is normal, neutral and calm as ever, but I can tell he’s worried, or at least curious.

I avoid his eyes. “Nothing.” I catch the attention of one of the other servers, Kara, as she walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, Kara,” I say, getting her attention. “I found a ten out in the parking lot. You want it? I know you’re saving up for school.”

Kara, though briefly confused, smiles as she takes the money from my hand. “Thanks, Y/N!”

“No problem,” I reply, satisfied. When she walks back out to the dining room I take off, refusing to look back at Scott. I hear him start to follow me, but one of the fryer timers goes off and he reluctantly turns his attention back to the kitchen.

I’m in the walk-in freezer for about three minutes before the door opens and Scott enters, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are you hiding in the walk-in?” He asks.

“I’m not hiding” I reply, defiant. “I’m looking for something.”

“Which is?” When I don’t answer, he speaks again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Scott.”

“Are you sure? Because you just turned down free money.”

“So did you.”

“Cooks don’t take tips.”

“It wasn’t my tip to take.”

“It wasn’t Kara’s, either.”

“It probably would’ve been, had she taken the table.”

“Didn’t you say he only gave you five dollars?” His eyebrows furrow again, confused. “Bad tippers are bad tippers, regardless of who's giving them the food. He would’ve found a problem with Kara's service too.”

“Doubt it,” I mumble.

“Doubt it? Why’s that?”

“Come on, Scott,” I scoff.

“‘Come on, Scott,’ what? What am I missing?”

“There wasn’t an issue with the service. There was an issue with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jesus, Scott. Look at Kara, look at me, and tell me who you think is getting better tips.”

Realization flashes across his face, and his eyes narrow. “You’re talking about how you look.”

I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Yes, Scott, I am.”

“Well, don’t. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit. It’s documented, and it’s true. Pretty servers get better tips, even if the quality of service is the same. It’s just how it is.”

“And you’re saying you’re not one of the ‘pretty servers’?” He puts air quotes around the words. When I nod, he grunts. “Fuck off.”

“Did you just tell me to fuck off?” I ask in angry surprise.

“I did.”

His double-down shocks me even more, but even more than that I’m angry. Angry at Scott for not understanding where I’m coming from, and angry at the whole system for being unfair, and angry at that guy at Table 13 for making me feel this way.

“Whatever, Scott. You’re a guy, and you’re you, so you wouldn’t get it.

I try to push past him to leave the walk-in, but he stops me. All of a sudden, in one quick, fluid motion, he’s bent down so our faces are on the same level, and he kisses me. He holds my cheek in one hand, my upper arm in the other, pulling me closer to him as seconds go by. I can’t tell how long we’re actually kissing for, but after a second-long eternity he’s pulled away from me, leaving me confused and wanting more. I don’t remember placing my hand behind his neck, but it falls back to my side as he stands up slowly.

“Stop saying you’re not pretty,” he says, simply. His eyes are focused on mine, making sure I understand how serious he’s being.

Before I can reply, he turns around and walks out of the freezer.

[epicness1000]

17 REASONS WHY SAMPO KOSKI IS SUS

I'm not sure if I've come across a fictional character more horrendously sus than Sampo Koski.

Since I'm kind of hyperfixated on him (and Dr Ratio too), I will make a post on why our beloved blue scammer is very, very sus.

He is the only character to leave no trace when he walks. No splashes in water, no footprints in the snow. Literally no other character in the game does this.

All of his eidolons, save for one, are made up of two words and are very light hearted: "Rising love", "Infectious enthusiasm", "Big money!", "Huuuuuuuuge money!" and "Increased Spending", all of which reference either his love for money, or his warmth. The one exception is "The Deeper the Love, the Stronger the Hate". What? What do you mean hate? We've never seen Sampo be anything but 'haha funny scam boi'. What a strangely ominous thing to say...

Not to mention the art paired with that eidolon. In every piece of art we have of him, you can see the light in his eyes– not here. The light's completely absent.

His defeat pose. Every character is either kneeling, or sitting down. Sampo is the ONLY one who is still on his feet. This must surely be intentional.

The fact that he's among the few characters with an invalid rating from the rating pistol (Alongside Acheron, Jing Yuan, Feixiao, March 7 and Luocha, all of whom are either extremely powerful, or have a completely unknown past as is the case of March 7).

He is the only character to directly acknowledge the player in-game (Sparkle did this in a trailer, but... it was a trailer, so it doesn't count until it's something in-game). Self-aware character? (This is my own headcanon >:)

He very clearly is not a Belobogian native, this is all but confirmed by the fact that everyone states he just showed up one day a few years back (something along those lines). So... where is he really from? His splash art doesn't seem to be Belobog either...

The fact that the trailblazer turned away from him for ONE SECOND, and he disappeared without a sound??? Like he was never there at all.

The entirety of Funny Bone, which shows a very violent side to Sampo. You CANNOT convince me it doesn't hold some element of truth to who he truly is, because if Hoyo truly intended for him to be harmless comic relief with little more to him, why would they play this song live in an official Honkai: Star Rail orchestra accompanied with the visuals? Would they really approve something showing him in such a dangerous, unhinged and dark light when we've never seen him like that in-game?

The fact that he's a Masked Fool. A Masked Fool who apparently has some moral standards, but a Masked Fool nonetheless. Personally, I suspect he wasn't always so mellow.

THAT WHOLE SCENE OF FIREFLY DESCRIBING HIM, HAVING KNOWN NOTHING ABOUT WHO HE WAS, AND MAKING HIM SOUND LIKE SOME SORT OF SKILLED ASSASSIN?? (I know it was a shapeshifted Sparkle but I think the point still stands. Also, this might just be me, but before I realised it was Sampo following us around, the way FF was talking about our stalker unsettled me and genuinely left the impression that she was talking about an assassin of some kind... wouldn't surprise me if this guy's hands have been stained red in the past).

The fact that his backstory snippets are all of him just goofing around disguised as Madame Poisson? When there's CLEARLY more to him than meets the eye?

THE FACT THAT HE'S ONE OF THE FEW CHARACTERS WHO IS NOT ABLE TO BOARD THE ASTRAL EXPRESS YET????? Even Sparkle can board, so it doesn't have to do with the fact that he's a masked fool. And I think everyone else from Belobog can board, so... hmm... sus....

We find him in the Belobog outskirts. I'm pretty sure it's noted that normal humans can't go out there unprepared without freezing to death, or something? I might be misremembering.

HIS LIGHT CONE! HOW COULD I FORGET HIS LIGHT CONE! Firstly, notice it's not just one sniper targetting him, but there is also a man in the corner pointing a gun at him. The art is called "The Eyes of the Prey", yet when you read its description, Sampo is unsettlingly calm, spotting the sniper from a distance with no warning (makes him sound like he has borderline supernatural awareness, which I think fits with the idea of him being 'self-aware'), and is noted to have more money than the hitman makes from multiple contracts. I think the title is also a subversion– with how in control Sampo is of the situation, surviving TWO simultaneous hitmen, it's quite clear that he is not the prey– rather, it's those who target him.

He knows things he ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT KNOW. The fact that he implies that Dan Heng is a dragon? Or his 'knowledge' voice line, which clearly expresses his awareness that we arrived by train (when he should not have this information?).

His eidolon activation phrase is "Everyone has a colourful past, wouldn't you say?" We know literally NOTHING about his past.

So, I'm not sure EXACTLY what this all means, but it's clearly pointing to something. Don't let me down, Mihoyo! You usually do, you filthy gacha bastards, but... try to do Sampo justice please.

[thecapricunt1616]

Coriander (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): “I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.”

♡ Chapter Inspo: Love, health, immortality, and protection. Tie fresh coriander with a ribbon and hang in the home to bring peace & protection. Add to love charms and spells to bring romance or use in ritual work to ease the pain of a broken love affair. Promotes peace among those who are unable to get along. Use the seeds in love sachets and spells. ♡ Summary: You are in a FWB situation with Richie, Mikey dies - Carmy comes home to run The Beef, and suddenly...you find yourself in a FWB situation with Carmy as well, what happens when Carmy makes you two official in secret so he can have you all to himself? ♡ W/C: 5.3K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/29/2024 ♡ A/N: Hellooooo! Happy day 4/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡Here♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from a sweet anon, ask can be found right ♡Here♡ - Thank you so much for your request! As you can tell by the word count I got very inspired! I hope you enjoy :D This could easily have a part 2 so if you want one, just let me know in the comments This is kind of a Richie/Carmy thing i've never written Richie before and I had a whole lot of fun doing so! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, FWB Relationships, Smoking, Usual TB trigger warnings, Asshole!Carmy (kinda), Angst, No real comfort to be found in the end, Age gap relationships, Rough sex, smutsmutsmut, No uses of Y/N, Reader not described (pics are for vibes only)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had been working at The Bear since it was The Beef. 3 months before Mikey died, you were hired as a food runner. You’d met Mike maybe twice? Both times, the guy was high out of his mind- so you couldn’t say much about his character. 

Richie on the other hand, was flirty. He was handsome, he was funny, he had a huge cock. You were in your third year of college, Richie was smitten with your girlish charm, and you’d fucked those 3 months pretty consistently - until Carmy came back to Chicago. 

You’d been warned his ‘cousin’ was a big shot NYC chef, ‘Michelin Starred’ Richie said one night while fucking your brains out after a stressful shift as he smoked a cigarette in his shitty, dimly lit apartment. Puffs of smoke left his lips as your ass bounced against his hips and he rambled on about what had pissed him off today, 

“Ye’ sweetheart- fuck-“ he took a long inhale before continuing -  “mm’y’fuckin tight baby- shit-“ he stuttered as your pussy clenched around his cock firmly as your second orgasm washed over you, thighs shivering. “Thaaas it- huh? Gooood girl. Knew y’could do it babygirl” he kissed the dimple on your spine as you shivered, tendrils of smoke trailing up your back and over your hips. 

He then sat up, casually taking another drag, tightening his non-dominant hand around your hip so there would be little fingertip bruises once more over the yellowing hearing ones, and continued, his bruising pace getting rougher and quicker as he continued chasing his own orgasm. 

The meat of your ass and the skin of his hips made smacking sounds as they came together. Pathetic little whines drag from your lips with each rough kiss the tip of his cock gave your cervix as he just continued talking like he wasn’t using you like a fuck doll. 

“he uh, has a Michelin star- whatever that means? He’s a little prick. Guess that’s ahh-fuck- that’s why Mike left it t’him- he knows how t’make fancy shit- little fuckin’ Eleven Madison Park dickhead��  he grunted as he filled you up, spanking you roughly for good measure. 

“Good girl. Always take it like a little whore mm?” He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. He pats your hip gently as he pulls out, collapsing next to you with an old man grunt that you always teased him for. “Ey’ sweet girl, Y’wanna rub my back since I fucked y’so good mm? So I won’t be sore at work tomorrow?” He pulled you close, kissing your neck, his stubble making you shiver as cum leaked down your beard-burned thighs. 

That was how you spent one to three nights a week since you’d started working at The Beef. 

Then, Carmy came. For the first 6 or so months, it was business as usual for you and Richie. Quiet spanks on the ass as you walked by him during rush as you brought food out to a customer, sometimes letting him fuck your face in the back alley as he went on about what an asshole Carmen was being that day. 

You just took it, the fighting, the bickering, the sexual tension. You were the go-between for the both of them, when they weren’t talking Richie would bug you to go tell Carmy what he needed to say. “Immature asshole” you’d call him at the end of the day as he knelt between your thighs in that same shitty apartment, sucking on your clit while his beard scratched up your thighs. He’d just chuckle into you, squeezing your thighs amusedly with his large hands. 

Then one day, you were in the dry storage, grabbing something for Marcus that was on the bottom shelf and heavy. You were bent over, trying to tug it out and the door shut behind you.  “Hey- sorry just gonna reach over you-“ Carmy. When you felt him press against your ass like that, his tattooed hand resting on your hip. You felt heat rushing straight for your core, your stomach flipping and fluttering.

Then, you started making moves. A brush of the hand here, a smile there, a giggle at one of his dorky jokes no one else bothered to pay attention to, of course, he noticed. The young piece of ass that used to spend all day giggling and shooting the shit with his older cousin was into him now. The first night it happened, you made sure to pick up a double on a day you usually didn’t go home with Richie, and while everyone except Carmy did their best to rush out the door as soon as they possibly could, you stuck behind. 

You went to the bathroom, fixed up your hair, and your makeup not enough to be noticeable to a guy that you’d changed, but enough to look fresh. You put on some more lipgloss, freshening up your body spray and hiking your tote bag onto your shoulder before heading out of the ladies' room into the back-of-house. You heard the swish swish of a scrub brush, and the plopping of water - and knew Carmy was still in there scrubbing something. When you turned the corner to see him on his hands and knees, muscular arms flexing as he really scrubbed that floor. You could tell there was something….about Carmen Berzatto. 

It wasn’t just the fact his brother died, it wasn’t this strange stoic seriousness he had at not even 35, it was something else. Dedication, maybe? But you weren't sure to what because not a day went by without referring to the restaurant as ‘a shithole with decent sandwiches’ - you knew he was just keeping it running because it’s what Cicero wanted and no one denied that man. But you wanted to see if that dedication or learning ability translated into the bedroom. “Damn- You could eat off that grout” you teased. His head popped up, blue eyes twinkling under the iridescent lights.

This damn family and their pretty eyes

“The hell you still doin’ here? Y’shift ended what-” he looked at the clock, “An hour and six minutes ago” he continued scrubbing at the tile with the tiny little brush. 

“Oh you memorized my shift schedule?” you teased, a small smile on your lips. You were towering over him, being sure to block his light so he would give you his attention once more.

“I make the schedule, yeah I know when my employees work” he looked up at you again “n’y’re in my light” he pushed his greasy curls out of his way with his dry hand. 

“Mmm- last I checked Chef Syd did the scheduling- unless…that changed?” you asked and he looked back at the floor, scrubbing over the same spot he had been since you came over here. 

He made a little ‘mm’ noise and was quiet for a few moments as he continued to scrub. “So why are you still here if y’not gettin’ paid?” he asked again. You crouched next to him, hugging your knees and he stopped, looking over at you. He could smell your perfume perfectly, your lipgloss glitter was shimmering in the light. He could very well near smell the mint coming off of your breath from the gum you had chewed an hour earlier. He swallowed thickly, blinking a few times how he did when he was confused he noticed and his eyes fan to your lips before back up to your eyes. “Uh-”

You cut him off “Cause I haven’t met you, Carmy. We haven’t talked, Why’s that?” you question with a small, innocent smile. It was true, he all but ignored you while he’d been here. The only time he spoke to you was when he absolutely had to tell you something or when he was assigning you your morning tasks when you first got in. 

“W-What d’you wanna know?” he asked, tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips. He was nervous. 

“Why do you ignore me for starts” you jet your bottom lip slightly out into a little barely there pout for added effect, “Tina asked me a few days ago what I did, so what did I do Carmy?” you ask gently. You knew it was because you caught him staring at you so often he thought you thought he was a creep, but you thought it was adorable how flustered he got when he’d been caught and quickly tried to make it look like he’d been focused on something else. 

“Nothin- nothin’ y-you didn’t do anything m’sorry I made you feel- what’re you-” he trailed off as you gently fixed his Saint Anthony chain so it was facing front, carefully slipping your finger under the loop and pinching it between your forefinger and thumb, adjusting the clasp to be at the back of his neck. 

“Sorry, small things like that bug me, I think little things bug you too, Carm” you said softly. His cheeks were getting pink, his pupils were widening. Your plan was working. “Is this ok?” you gently fixed the sleeve of his t-shirt over his bicep, the fabric deliciously stretching over his buff arm 

“Mhmm” he muttered, breath catching as your hand trailed up his shoulder and resting there. “Did you um- did you need something…” he asked, voice that delicious kind of soft you adored. 

“I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.

He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing “Jesus Christ” he muttered to himself, shutting the door behind him. “Y-y’re sure. Like- wait you mean- you mean you want me t-” 

“Do whatever you want with me, chef,” you told him in a sultry tone, watching him closely as he walked over. You’d assumed he’d be just like Richie, rough, unforgiving, and sometimes even a little mean, but the way he cupped your cheek was…gentle. 

“Are you sure you want this? M’y’r boss..I don’ want you t’feel like i’m…making you, ‘er somethin’” he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. He was so close that you could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as well as the musky scent of the long workday mixed with his cologne. You were nearly put in a trance by it. In response, you gently rest your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and giving him a gentle kiss. 

He leaned forward, resting his hand on the side of your thigh and kissing you back, his lips hesitant on yours at first but when he felt your tongue swipe his bottom lip, his hand moved to your shoulder and gently squeezed as he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to find yours. He moaned softly at your taste, his breath coming out in small hot puffs that fanned your upper lip as you explored his mouth with your tongue. His hand that was on the desk gently moved to your hip, giving a tentative squeeze. You grabbed it, bringing it to your breast and with your hand over his, guiding him to squeeze and massage it. 

He let out a little hum of realization and did as you asked, only able to do so much with a t-shirt bra and work shirt, he with trembling hands tugged at the bottom of your navy blue The Beef t-shirt, asking for permission to take it off. You pulled away, swiftly taking off the shirt and reconnecting your lips with his. Your hands made your way behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling it off, bringing both of his hands to your breasts. You whine softly as he pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers, the action making them even harder and perkier. He kissed down your jaw, nipping gently and sucking on the sensitive skin. 

Richie can’t know this happened 

“N-no marks babe- kay?” you said a bit breathlessly, hand trailing up to gently tug at his hair. He hummed in response, kissing down and mouthing over the hickeys Richie had left earlier in the week. You bit your lip as he continued to roll and tug your nipples kissing down your neck and when he finally got to your breasts you heard him mutter

“So fuckin perfect” before he took one of your perky abused nipples into his mouth, lightly sucking as you combed through his curls, taking out all the knots with your nimble fingers. With his other hand, he continued to massage your other breast, causing a moan to fall from your lips. 

“You wanna fuck me? Mm? Right here over the desk? You can go as hard as you want yea?” you told him, it was nice that he was spending so much time dedicated to making you feel good, but were confused why he hadn’t just…bent you over and gotten it over with by now like Richie usually did when you fucked at work. 

He pulled off with a pop, looking up at you with those wide eyes that had been darkened with lust. “Uh- Can I taste you..instead?” he asked shyly, resting his chin on your sternum gently, his hot breath puffing from his nose and tickling your chest. You raised your brows, looking at the clock - wasn’t he exhausted?! If he ate you out, that would be what - another 15 minutes on top of him getting off, would probably be another 20, so you both wouldn’t be getting out of there until 1:30 or so. 

Well, if it's what he wants.

“Sure honey” You got up, slipping out of the sweats you took the train home in usually, setting them on the desk to sit on and pushing your panties down as well after kicking off your Ugg slipper shoe-type things and sitting back on the desk, spreading your thighs for him and resting one of your heels on the edge. His mouth parted slightly, nearly dropping to his knees, his curls falling in front of his eyes but he didn’t seem to care as he kissed your inner thighs, almost enjoying his time getting you worked up. He gently sucked on your nether lip, groaning lightly at your flavor. Your mouth drops as you watch him, fully blissed out as he laps at your wet folds.

“Holy shit Carmy” you breathe, gently pushing his bangs back so you could see his pretty blue eyes once again. He looks up at you, sandy brown long lashes nearly touching his bushy brows as he connects his mouth with your clit, flicking his tongue over it and running his jaw back and forth messily, a mix of drool and your arousal running over his chin. “Wow feels so good - doin’ so good Carmy” you breathe, head falling back in pleasure and breathing picking up. He was really good at this. When Richie was in the mood (AKA his back wasn't hurting, or his knees, or his shoulder) he would give you the pleasure of eating you out, and he did it well, he always made sure you came when he did it, and you never had to fake it with him.

You weren’t going to have to fake it with Carmy, either, because holy shit - he was amazing at this. You felt that familiar tightening within’ your stomach within minutes. He took one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder to give himself a better angle, and ran his tongue down, slipping it inside of your pussy and moaning as you gush over his tongue when his nose runs back and forth over your clit, stimulating it most deliciously. Your thigh twitched, toes curling, and a sharp moan comes from your throat, biting down roughly on your lip. “God- god Carmy, I’m cumming” you warn, Gripping his curls rougher which seemed to edge him on, rubbing you rougher with his nose and curling his tongue up against your gummy walls, wet lewd noises coming from between your thighs. 

Within moments there was a fire of pleasure shooting beneath your skin as you cried out in ecstasy. Your eyes rolled beneath your lids, letting go of his hair and gripping the desk instead with a crushing grip as he worked you through the intense waves of overstimulating delight that ripped through you relentlessly. He finished with a chaste kiss on your thigh before grabbing your bra and helping you put it on as well as your panties, even finding the shirt you’d thrown and shaking off the dust from the floor before handing it over. “That was uh…really good, thank you” he wiped his chin and lips with the back of his hand, rubbing it on the back of his jeans. You shamelessly stared at his crotch and noticed the hard bulge in his jeans before looking back up at him.

“You don’t want to get rid of that? I can suck you off if you want I have a hair tie” you said, holding up your wrist to show him. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“No- no you don’t owe me anything, I got what I needed don’worry. See y’tomorrow- make sure you leave through the back I already locked up the front” he said, leaving the office and closing the door behind him to give you some privacy. You sat in shock for a moment, blinking a few times. All he wanted from you was to eat you out? You’d never met another guy who simply ate you out and that was it - they’d always…expected something from you after, and of course, you gave it because you felt like they’d paid you a favor just by eating you out first even if you didn’t finish. You slip your work shirt back on, get up, and put on your sweats with shaky legs before slipping your shoes back on. 

It continued like this, the days you weren't fucking Richie, you were in the back office getting eaten until you nearly passed out. Until The Beef started getting renovated, then the days you weren’t getting your brains fucked out in Richie's bed, your thighs spread wide at odd hours of the morning on Carmens’ couch, some random cooking show playing in the background as he lapped at your pussy like a man starved on his knees in front of you after kissing down your body like you were a goddess to be worshipped. If you were quite honest, you liked this routine. It felt perfect for you, you knew where your feelings lay for both of the men, and it was a stable comfortable routine on both sides. 

For Richie, it was fun and flirtatious. Sneaky spanks when you came to visit and help him renovate the restaurant with Neil, rough makeout sessions in the back alley when he went out for a smoke, rough near bruising quickies in the soon-to-be walk-in freezer that hadn’t been set up yet, so it was a nice little private area you two could go. He’d even started stealing a kiss or two when you weren’t being sexual. He was protective of you, Carmy started noticing this. That was why a few weeks before the big opening, he had started being a bit more handsy with you. 

The two of you started spending a lot more time together, and you realized he was even opening up to you a bit more. He began asking to see you more often, taking you out with him when he had to run errands for the opening. When he took you with him to the restaurant supply store, he had his hand rested on your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he explained to you the difference between the bunch of different kinds of cutlery. You had been baffled that there were 11 different kinds of butter knives there and he explained to you the difference between them, as well as showed you which sets went together.

It was strange you were clenching your thighs together while a man chatted you up over silverware, but the way he guided your hand to hold them so you were doing it ‘properly’ when you picked one up to get a closer look, had your heart jumping to your throat. That specific encounter was the first time you’d been able to really fuck him, and also draw some dominance out of him as well. It wasn't even his day with you, he knew it - he very well knew this, but little did you know that was the reason why he did it. You rode him hard and fast in the back of his van in the parking lot, he’d made sure to move to a spot in the way back where no one else had been parked so the two of you didn’t get caught and thrown on a registry, of course.

So, that night when you had met up with Richie after he had made you dinner and bent you over the couch for your usual Wednesday night activities - by the first yank of your hips you squeaked, “Gentle - please, daddy, not too rough..” you were glad he was taking you from behind, because you couldn’t bare the confused sweet sorry look on his face. You never asked him to be gentle with you, of course he obliged- because it was all an act. Richie was a big softie, a teddy bear. He just liked to fool around and put on the big mean daddy act in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you.t in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you. But he would never really want to hurt you. 

“Wha’s wrong baby, mm? Why you hurtin’?” He held you up by your ribs, sweetly kissing your hairline as he thrusted slower and softer in and out of you, gently resting his lips against your forehead “was I too hard Monday? M’sorry my sweet girl” he rubbed over your breast gently as he continued his gentler strokes. His sweet girl. That caused your heart to sting a bit. You didn’t know that he liked you too, the same way you liked him. Unless it was just an act? You hope it was an act. 

“Yeah” you said, knees going weaker when he reached around your front and toyed with your clit, your hips bucking at the soreness Carmen had left you with earlier. 

“Yeah? Y’never been like this before sweetheart” he kissed over your neck, beard scratching at your skin. 

“Mm- s’okay- feels good- like it when it hurts like this” you rest your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling a pit of guilt setting in your stomach. Would it hurt him if he found out you had started fooling around with Carmy? You hoped not, but couldn’t help but wonder. They were family. Most of all you would hope it wouldn’t make him insecure due to the much closer proximity Carmy and your ages were. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t even realize he was finishing inside of you like normal moaning into your hair. 

“So good- such a good girl” he kissed your head. “go get cleaned up kid, gotta get outta here early t’day cus’ I needa go to Eva’s school play thing” he pats your ass gently and pulled out, leaving you draped over the arm of the couch naked from the waist down and cum leaking down your thighs. You shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing over your face before standing up and doing as he said. 

A little over a week later, Carmy asked you to go straight with him. Well. Not really, he asked you if you were fucking other people to which you gave a simple yes and he just said ‘oh…wish I could be the only one’ you teased him and asked if that meant you wanted to be together, just the two of you and he said yes. So, you stopped fucking Richie. You stopped letting him kiss you in dry storage - you stopped having your ass be available for slapping as he walked by. 

And man, was it hard. He looked like a sad puppy, a small pout coming to his lips when you turned your cheek causing him to kiss that instead of your lips. “ ‘ey-“ he turned your face towards him “where’s my kiss?” You just looked down at the floor, before turning and grabbing the bag of onions you’d been sent in there to get and saying 

“I don’t think we should keep doing this. We should…just work together.” As much as you hated to say it, you did. Then you left the dry storage, and Richie felt his heart crack slightly. Things with him felt way more real then with Carmy, but Carmy was the one who asked you to be his, so you just…went with who asked. You had thought that was the best choice. Even though you stomped on his heart that day, he still cracked jokes with you, and was the same sweet dork you worked with before you started hooking up, the sweet dork that made you want to hook up with him in the first place. 

2 days before the friends and family opening, Carmy invited you over to his so he could cook for you. You’d been able to have his cooking once before, when he’d had you come over right in front of Richie at The Beef, and held a spoon to your lips, a hand under your chin for you to try something he’d come up with. Tonight he was making his familys pasta, and when you’d got there you nearly jumped his bones when he was wearing a work shirt from The Beef. You’d never seen him in it before, he’d never worn it to work even though everyone else had to be wearing theirs.

 You had a joke with yourself that he knew how yummy and slutty he looked in those stupid plain white t’s so thats why he kept wearing them.

“Hey sexy” You’d said when he opened the door, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply. He hummed, pulling you inside quickly and shutting the door behind you both so no neighbors would see. He grabbed your ass with his palms, squeezing it and spanking you lightly.

“Hey pretty girl” he said, kissing your top lip messily “y’hungry, right? Dinners almost done” he carefully brushed your hair from your face, looking down into your eyes with one of his sweet smiles.

“Mm always hungry for the best chef in the worlds food” you mused, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and playing with his curls “Why’d you never wear this at work, mm? Y’look sexy babe” you kissed his neck. He hummed, hands trailing up your back and palming over your ribs.

“Cause they’re itchy, and it’s laundry day” he said as you rubbed over his chest, grabbing at his pecks and squeezing at the flesh. He chuckled, brushing your hands “jesus someones handsy eh? He cupped your cheeks, angling your eyes towards him “food’ll burn, go wash up yeah? I’ll get y’plate ready” he pecked your lips and ran his hands down your front, grabbing your hand nd pressing it to his lips before heading back to the kitchen.

You followed as he said, going to the restroom and washing your hands as well as your makeup off with the makeup wipes that lived in his bathroom for you now, before going to his bedroom. You stepped out of your stupid waitress uniform, slipping on his white shirt that kissed just below your bum. You padded out to the kitchen, seeing him wiping the edge of your plates off with a paper towel, a kitchen rag over his shoulder. God, he looked so amazing in his element. “Hey” you said gently, going to hug him from behind 

“Hey sweet girl, just about done” he sprinkled some fresh parsley over the dish masterfully, before gently rubbing over the back of your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it. “How was the train?” he asked and you pulled away, walking over to his couch and sitting since he’d never bothered to get a kitchen table. 

“Okay, weirdo was playing a ukelele again” you plopped down, crossing your legs and looking over at the random dutch cooking program he had been watching from his station in the kitchen, “You speak dutch?” you asked, he chuckled and you weren’t sure at which statement. 

“No, I don’t, I just watch, and I know what they’re doin’ by the look usually.” he came over, setting a beautiful plate of pasta in your lap and sitting down with the small pot he used for sauce, that he’d mixed the noodles in half hazardly and twirled some of the noodles on the fork, taking a bite. 

Classic Carmy, serving you a Michelin Starred dish, and eating the leftover scraps. 

That was the night you really fell for him. Especially after he did the same thing that he did the first time the two of you hooked up, put you first. Even if he didn’t want you to touch him, even if he was too shy to cuddle you before you fell asleep. You really felt your heart crack open for him.

The night of friends and family, though, you may as well have been a stranger. No matter what you did that night to get his attention, he fully ignored you and snapped at you, and everyone, to ‘pick up your fucking pace’. You had never had him snap at you like this. All you wanted to do was go joke around with Richie, maybe pull him into the dry storage for a quick makeout - but you couldn’t, not anymore. You missed him. You missed your old man, as much as he despised you calling him that, you adored the way he frowned and spanked you in response to the name, telling you ‘it’s already unfair when we go out they think y’my daughter’ 

When you had find out that Carmy had been locked in the freezer - your first instict was to rush to the back of house, comfort him- tell him it would all be fine, but you knew you couldn’t do that, and it would piss him off if you did so. You were his well kept secret, and he wanted you to stay that way. You had found out from Syd, who was really the only one to know about your short-lived relationship - since Carmy seemed to be more open with her then he did with you - his supposed girlfriend. 

“He’s ok, he’s fine- look, just keep pace, ok, me and Richie will handle this - bring the plates from tinas station to table 11, ok?” she told you calmly, giving you a quick reassuring hug before whisking you off to do your job. You did as she said, putting on a smile and bringing the food out to the table, setting it down the way you’d been trained and telling them what was what before telling them to enjoy and heading back to the kitchen to pick up another round of food to bring out to an awaiting hungry group of patrons.

Three hours later, when the night was finally coming to a close- you decided it was a good time to go check on Carmy. All the guests had left, and it was just the staff at this point. You knew that the fire department was on the way since Richie had let everyone know they’d been called, and Syd was back there trying to calm him down. What you didn’t know, was Syd had told Carmy to hold on for a moment because she was gonna go tell her father goodbye and thank him for coming, so he had been left all alone in the back of house, in the freezer.

You walked in, hearing him rambling as you walk up, listening closely to what he was saying.

“Like- Like right? Right?” he chuckled a bit “W-what the fuck was I thinkin’? Huh? The fuck was I thinkin’, Syd? Like - Like I was gonna be in- “ he laughed a bit “In- i-in a relationship- er- er some shit? I-I’m a fuckin- a fuckin psycho- thats thats why, thats why I’m good at what I do, thats how I operate, Syd, you wanna be the best? I am the fucking best, because I didn’t have- any- any of this - this fuckin…bullshit! Right? I-I- I could focus, and I could concentrate, and I- I had a fuckin’ routine, an- and I had fuckin cell reception! An-” he paused. You felt your heart crack, tears filling your eyes,

You were bullshit to him.

He continued, “I dont need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I dont need to- to receive, any amusement- or - or enjoyment. Y’know? And I’m…I’m completely fine, with that. Because absolutely no amount of good, is worth how fuckin’ shitty this feels. S’just…a complete waste of my fucking time.” 

You let out the sob you were holding back, gasping a breath, shaking your head and with a trembling voice, you say, “I’m really sorry you feel this way, Carmy…” before rushing out of the kitchen, hot tears running down your cheeks. You grab your bag from behind the counter, slamming into richie on the way out of the restaurant and he stopped you, grabbing your arm. 

“Hey- hey kid” he said, and the soothing sound of his voice made you break down fully, starting to sob so hard you couldnt see straight, collapsing into his chest. 

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry for being so shitty- I- I dont deserve you” you cried, hugging him tightly, “I have-” you took a gasping breath and look up at him “I- i’m done- tell Carmy that I’m done here….” you let go of him and rush out, quickly walking towards the train station the wind whipping your wet cheeks. You pulled out your phone, calling Carmy to leave him a voicemail. 

“Hey, uh…I don’t know why you fuckin’ asked me out- but uh- fuck you, carmy. Youre right- you deserve nothing- youre a coward, and an asshole. I hate you for making me love you” you hung up, shoving your phone in your pocket, not even caring the admission that slipped past your lips as you stomped up the stairs to the L platform.

Back at the restaurant, Richie storms into the kitchen, slamming his palm on the freezer door. “Yo- the fuck did you just do?” he asked, voice laced with anger.

“I-I don’know. I-I don’ know what the fuck she heard. Dunno” Carmy said, voice indifferent to the entire thing, which just made anger bubble in his chest at his lack of caring. Richie slams his hand into the door harder, making Carmy jump a bit.

“No- asshole, I said - the fuck did you just say, to that fuckin’ girl?” Richie repeated, getting louder now.

“Richie” Carmy said, sighing to himself.

“Richie? Richie What- Tell me! Tell me, What the fuck. What the fuck did you just say to that fuckin girl, Carmen” 

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP AND GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE PLEASE!” Carmy shouts, not having any part of being scolded when his fingertips felt like ice. 

“Oh- oh yeah, I’ll get y’the fuck outta there, Donna” Richie mocked, so angry he didnt care how deeply he cut in the moment.

“The fuck you just say t’me?” Carmy challanged

“I-” Richie sighed, knowing he just took things too far and dropped his head back in annoyance.

“N-no- Richie- What the fuck did you just say?” Carmy asks, louder this time, Pounding on the door when he didnt get a response. 

“Yo- cousin, cousin look - I don’t know why you gotta fuck up everything good in your life. That girl is nice, shes a good fuckin friend t’you” Richie explained, completely oblivious to everything that had really been going on. 

“Are you -” Carmen laughs “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he spits, the comparison to his mother causing fire to race through his veins.

“No- No i’m not, cousin, someones gotta tell you this shit, ‘eh? First fuckin friend after comin’ home you go ahead and make her cry?!” Richie scolded.

“FUCK YOU! Fuck you Richie!” Carmy yells, running his hands through his hair,

“Ohhh yea, here we go, fuck me, yeeeaaa Carm” he mocked him.

“Yeah! Yeah fuck you fuckin loser. You wouldn’t have shit without me. So fuck you!” carmy shouted at him, his breath coming out in large frosty puffs in front of him.

“Oh-” Richie chuckled, a twinge in his chest that Carmy was willing to cut so deep so quickly “Yeah- yeah tough guy” he mocked, voice getting meeker

“Yeah! Yeah! You- Or y’fuckin kid- fuckin loser - only reason you have anything is me!” Carmy roars, slamming on the door “so ye’ cousin, fuck you!” 

“My KID? Y’gonna talk about my KID? Well at least I have a fuckin kid! What d’you have other then a restaurant, jackass!” he yelled back.

“YEAH? I HAVE THE GIRL YOU BEEN FUCKIN’ FOR THE PAST YEAR, MORON. Why you think she dropped you so fast? Huh? You fucking idiot! She chose me- so ye’. I am the reason you have what you have AND I’LL TAKE WHATEVER I FUCKING WANT. FUCK YOU” He yelled through the door, kicking it with his chefs clog.

Richies mouth dropped, stepping back and feeling as if he’d just been stabbed in the heart. “What?” he said, believing his ears were playing tricks on him, how could Carmy do such a thing to him?

“Yeah- yeah. She chose me, and guess what, I fucked her because i wanted to show you I could. Y’fuckin prick” he sat down on one of the boxes of frozen steaks, rubbing over his face roughly. Richie raced out of the kitchen, telling Syd he was ‘done’ and quickly taking out his phone to call you. 

Back in the freezer, Carmens phone buzzed. He looked at it, seeing a voicemail from you that finally pushed through. When he heard your sad, broken voice, admit that he’d caused you to hate him by his behaviour made him chuck his phone against the freezer wall so hard that the screen shattered.

Never so badly had he ever fucked up, and by doing so he lost the best thing to ever happen to him.

[dresshistorynerd]

Roughly 10 Cool Historical Queer Figures More People Should Know About

Part 1 - From Ancient Era to Early Modern Era

In spirit of Pride Month here's some snippets of queer history I think are interesting.

I've been working on a series of deep dives into interesting historical queer figures, but I haven't had the time to continue my list after the first entry about Julie d'Aubigny. I do want to continue with it, but I came to the realization that I will never have to time to do all the cool and interesting figures in depth, since there's too many, so I decided to do a list with brief descriptions about some of my favorite figures who are not that well known. Some of them are more well-known than others but I think they all deserve more acknowledgement.

I was able to trim down the number of figures to (roughly) 20, which was still too many for one post, so it's two posts now. They are in chronological order, so this part is set mostly before Victorian Era and the second part will be from Victorian Era onward.

This list is centered around western history (but not exclusively) because that's the history I'm most familiar with, though it's definitely not all white, since western history is not all white. I will be avoiding using modern labels, since they are rarely exactly applicable to history, rather I will present whatever we know about these figures' gender, sexuality and relationships. If there's information about what language they used about themselves, I will use that. Often we don't know their own thoughts, so I will need to do some educated guess work, but I will lean towards ambiguity whenever evidence is particularly unclear. If you are the type of person who gets angry with the mere suggestion there's a possibility that a historical gnc person might not have been cis, I encourage you to read my answers to related asks (here and here) first before sending me another identical ask. Try to at least bring some new arguments if you decide to waste my time with your trans erasure.

1. Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum (latter half of 2400 BCE)

Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum were ancient Egyptian royal servants, and possibly the first recorded gay couple in history known by name. They shared the title of Overseer of the Manicurists in the Palace of King Nyuserre Ini. They both had a wife and children, but they (along with their families) were buried together in a tomb. The tomb decorations show them similarly as other afterlife couples.

2. Marinos the Monk (c. 5th-8th century)

Marinos the Monk was born as Marina somewhere in eastern parts of Byzantine Empire, likely in the Levant. He was from a wealthy Christian family, possibly Coptic. Assigned female at birth his widowed father planned to marry him off and go to a monastery himself, but he convinced his father to take him with him dressed as a boy named Marinos. His father agreed and they were accepted as monks. After his father died many years later, he continued his life as a male presenting monk. Later he was accused of fathering an illegitimate child with a daughter of an innkeeper, which was not possible, but he didn't revoke the accusations, instead he begged for the abbot's forgiveness for "his sins". Marinos was banished from the monastery and became a beggar. For 10 years he raised his alleged illegitimate child as a father, until he was allowed to return to the monastery and do penance. Only after his death the abbot and the monks discovered his genitals and his inability to father children and were distraught for punishing an innocent man for 10 long years. The real father was discovered and along with the innkeeper and his daughter they all came to honor Marinos' grave and ask his forgiveness. He was canonized as a saint for his sacrificial selflessness, modesty and humility and honored across the Mediterranean from Ethiopia to France.

3. Mubārak and Muẓaffar al-Saqlabi (c. 10th - 11th century)

Mubārak and Muẓaffar were co-rulers of Taifa of Valencia in Muslim Spain. Al-Saqlabi means literally "of the Slavs", which in Al-Andalus was a general term for enslaved northern Europeans, as the two had been enslaved as children. They were in the service of another al-Saqlabi, a chief of police, and they worked they way up as civil servants till a local military coup in 1010, which resulted in them becoming the emirs of Taifa of Valencia. English language sources often describe them as "brothers" and "eunuchs", which gives the "historical gal pals" trope a concerning twist, but contemporary Muslim sources wrote fawningly about their passionate love, trust based on equality and mutual devotion. There was a popular genre of homoerotic poetry in the Islamic world at the time and poems in that genre were written about celebrating Mubārak and Muẓaffar's relationship. In 1018 Mubārak was killed in a riding accident and Muẓaffar shortly after in an uprising.

4. Eleno de Céspedes (1545 – died after 1589)

CW: genital inspection

Eleno was born in Andalusia, Spain, to an enslaved black Muslim woman and to a free Castillian peasant. He was assigned female at birth, given name Elena, and branded as a mulatto born to a slave. She was freed as a child and married to a stonemason at 15-16 years old. When pregnant, her husband left her and died a while later. Later Eleno testified that his intersex condition became externally visible, while he gave birth, and he became a man. He left his son to be raised by a friend and traveled around Spain. After he stabbed a pimp and ended up in jail, he started presenting as a man and openly courting women. Eventually he taught himself to be a surgeon with the help of a surgeon friend.

When he married María del Caño, his maleness was questioned and he was subjected to genital inspection multiple times and it was agreed by doctors that he had definitely male genitals, possibly also female genitals. After a year of marriage the couple was accused of sodomy. Eleno was tried by the Spanish Inquisition and subjected to more genital inspections, during which no penis was found. He claimed that his penis had been amputated after an injury. He defended himself in the trial by arguing that his intersex condition was natural and he had become a man after his pregnancy, so his marriage was legal. He was sentenced only for bigamy, since he had not confirmed that his husband was dead and punished as a male bigamist with 200 lashes and 10 years of public service to care for the poor in a public hospital. His fame attracted a lot of people wanting to be healed by him, which which was very embarrasing for the hospital so he was sent away and eventually exonerated from his charges.

5. Chevaliére d'Éon (1728-1810)

Charles d'Éon de Beaumont was born to a poor French noble family. In their 20s they became a government official and at 28 they joined the secret spy network of the king, Secret du Roi. They became a diplomat first in Russia and later in Britain while they used their position to spy for the king. Rumors circulated in London that they were secretly a woman. While in London they had a falling out with the French ambassador, accused him of attempted murder and published secret diplomatic correspondence. They were instead accused of libel and went into hiding. After the death of Louis XV in 1774 and the abolishment of Secret du Roi, d'Éon negotiated with the French government of the end of their exile in exchange for the rest of the secret documents he possessed. D'Éon took the name Charlotte, claimed she was in fact a cis woman - she had pretended to be man since a child so she could get the inheritance - and demanded the government to recognize her as such. When the king agreed and included funds for women's wardrobe, she agreed and returned to France in 1777. After that she helped rebels in the American War of Indepence - was not allowed to ]go and fight too, ghostwrote her not super reliable memoir, offered to lead a division of female soldiers against the Hasburgs in 1792 - was for some reason denied, attended fencing tournaments till 65 years old and settled down for the rest of her years with a widow, Mrs. Cole. After her death a surgeon reported that she had male primary sex characteristics, but fairly feminine secondary sex characteristics, like round breasts, which might suggest she had hormonal difference/was intersex in some way.

6. Public Universal Friend (1752-1819)

Public Universal Friend, or The Friend or PUF, was born as Jemima Wilkinson to Quaker parents in Rhodes Island, USA. Jemima contracted a disease in 1776, gained intense fever and almost died. The Friend claimed that she did die and God sent the Friend to occupy her body. The Friend didn't identify as man or a woman, and when asked about the Friend's gender, the Friend said "I am that I am". The Friend didn't want any gendered pronouns or gendered language to be used about the Friend. The Friend's pronouns, according to the writings of the Friend's followers, were "the Friend", "PUF" and possibly he. First recorded neo-pronouns perhaps? The Friend also dressed in androgynous/masculine manner.

The Friend started a bit cultish religious society disavowed by mainstream Quakers, The Society of Universal Friends, which I can only describe as chaotic good. The Friend first predicted a Day of Judgement would come in 1780 and when 1780 came and went, the Friend decided it was New England's Dark Day in 1780 and they had survived survived the Judgement Day so all was good then. The Friend preached for gender equality, free will, universal salvation (Jesus saved everyone and no one will go to hell) and abolition of slavery. The Friend persuaded any followers to free their slaves, which is probably the most chaotic good thing a potential cult leader can do with their influence over their followers, and several freed black people followed the Friend too. The Friend advocated for celibacy and was unfavorable towards marriage, but didn't think celibacy or rejection of marriage were necessary for everyone else, so it feels more like a personal preference. Many young unmarried women followed the Friend and some of them formed Faithful Sisterhood and took leadership positions among the Society.

The Society of Universal Friends tried to form a town for themselves around mid-1780s, till in 1799 the Friend was accused of blasphemy. The Friend successfully escaped the law two times. First the Friend, a skilled rider (what's a gender neutral version of horse girl?), escaped with a horse, then after an officer and an assistant tried to arrest the Friend at home, women of the house drove the men away. Third time 30 men surrounded the Friend's home at night, but a doctor convinced them that the Friend was in too poor health to move but would agree to appear at court. The Friend was cleared for all charges and even allowed to preach at the court.

7. Mary Jones (early 1800s–1853)

Mary Jones' origin is unknown, but she was an adult in 1836 in New York, USA. She was a free Black person, who preferred to present as a woman. She was sex worker by trade and used a prosthetic vagina. As a side hustle she would steel her customer's wallets, and usually they wouldn't tell anyone because it was 1830s and inter-racial sex and prostitution were illegal and everyone was repressed. Smart. Get your coin, girl. However after one of her more shameless customers discovered his wallet with 99 dollars inside had been replaced with a different man's empty wallet and contacted the police, she was arrested. The police discovered she had male genitals and when they searched her room they found several more stolen wallets. She appeared in court in her female presentation and when asked about her dress, she said that prostitutes she had worked with encouraged her to dress in women's clothing and said she looked better in them. They were right and she had since presented as a woman in her evening profession and among other Black people. She was convicted for grand larceny and sentenced to 5 years in prison. Later she continued to present as a woman and practice sex work, for which she was arrested for two more times.

8. George Sand (1804-1876)

George Sand was pen name of Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Francueil, a French Romantic writer. Amantine was high-born with a countess as a grandmother. George wrote about themself with alternating masculine and feminine language, using feminine language when talking about his childhood, but masculine language often other times. Their friends also used both masculine and feminine terms about them. Victor Hugo for example said about them: "George Sand cannot determine whether she is male or female. I entertain a high regard for all my colleagues, but it is not my place to decide whether she is my sister or my brother." George preferred men's clothing in public, which was illegal for those seen as women without a permit, but they didn't ask for permissions. They alternated between masculine and feminine presentations. They were outspoken feminist, critic of the institution of marriage, committed republican and supporter of worker's rights. They were married at age 18, had two children and left their husband in 1831, but legally separated from him in 1835. They had many affairs with men and some with women, at least with actress Marie Dorval. Their most notable relationship was with Frédéric Chopin, but they fell out before Chopin's death.

I fucked up the numbering first and put less entries to this list than the second one (which I have not finished), but 8 is kinda roughly 10 right?

[roguishcat]

The Best Laid Plans

Summary: Even the best laid plans may go wrong. Admittedly, Astarion's plan hadn't been that great to begin with. Part 2 of 'Part of His Plan'.

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Word count: 4k

Tags: Romance, Astarion is bad at feelings, Unnamed female Tav, Angst, Tooth-rotting fluff, Romance and feels

A/N: This story has a wonderful beta!! Thank you so much @preciouslittlebhaalbae! 💖💖💖 You are an absolute gem and the loveliest person ever for doing this! 🫂Thank you for your patience and kind suggestions! (because I'm a silly person who can't spot even obvious mistakes and @preciouslittlebhaalbae has the patience of a saint). You might remember me posting snippets from this back in January, so this is my second finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning!

Hope you enjoy the story and please let me know what you think! 💖💖 Comments, likes and reposts are always loved! 💖💖

Tav had a shadow and its name was Astarion.

She didn’t notice immediately. She was far too concerned with saving Thaniel, breaking the curse, helping every single one of their companions on their personal quests, and combating the mindless creatures wanting to murder them from the moment they stepped out of the dome protecting the Last Light Inn.

At first, Tav thought that she was just imagining it. Because every time she looked up, she seemed to glimpse silver curls, feel feather-light touches of cool fingers on her neck, all but taste rosemary, bergamot and brandy on her tongue. This lasted only a moment, yet a moment was all he ever needed to leave a lasting impression on her.

At some point, Astarion seemed to decide to stop bothering to pretend that he wasn’t following Tav around, his ruby eyes all but boring holes into her back as he watched her closely.

Now, this wasn’t the first time that Astarion acted somewhat uncanny. Perhaps two hundred years of being forced to do someone’s bidding did that to an elf. Either way, Tav didn’t want to offend Astarion. So she chose not to comment on how odd his behaviour was.  

However, the longer they travelled, the more Astarion seemed to insert himself into every situation, making sure that he was at her side at all times. She would round a corner and bump into his leather-clad back. Walk down the stairs and he was already waiting for her, tapping his foot in an impatient manner as he scowled at whoever was walking behind her at the time.

Finally, when she almost tripped over him, Tav decided to ask Astarion about it.

"Astarion, is there something you want?"

"Me? Why would you ask such a thing, my sweet?" Astarion said with a crooked smile, and Tav noticed how tensely he held himself. A coil waiting to spring upward at a smallest tap.

"Well.. Lately, I've noticed that you’ve started to… hover."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. His expression shuttered and he took a step back.

“And I take it that you’d rather I didn’t, is that it?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I -”

"If you do not wish for my company, you can just come out and say so! Send me back to camp to wallow in misery as Gale attempts to engage me in decidedly unengaging conversation," Astarion all but hissed at her.

Astarion regretted snapping at her almost immediately. He knew that it was uncalled for. Tav was nothing but kind and accommodating. But he couldn’t help the bitterness he felt when seeing her treat everyone else with the same thoughtfulness, the same caring. Was her protecting him nothing but an obligation? Was Tav offering her neck to him time and time again something that she would have done for any soul that needed sustenance? To him, it seemed that lately she led without making sure that he followed. Was whatever they shared coming to its logical conclusion sooner than he anticipated?

"I didn't say that I don't want you around," Tav frowned and took a careful step towards him, trying to mitigate the conflict before they started arguing in earnest. "I just want to make sure that everything is alright."

"As is your duty, my fair leader. To check up on any and all lost causes that seek your company, hm?"

Tav wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. His words felt cruel, though, and she felt herself flush.

"Sometimes I don't understand what you want from me, Astarion.”

He winced at how hurt she sounded. Another, better adjusted person, would be quick to apologise. Blame it all on being tired and frazzled, suggest with a rueful smile that the shadows were getting to him. Yet, Astarion only watched as Tav walked past the rest of the party. Shadowheart and Karlach, who had been standing nearby, choose not to comment on the exchange.

He'd rather have one of them punch him than have them silently disapprove. At least then he’d pretend he was angry at his companions rather than himself. Anger was familiar territory. Fear was nothing new. Whatever he felt now was a different, unfamiliar brand of torture.

An hour later Astarion found himself nervously pacing up and down his tent. Or at least doing something as close to pacing as he could in such cramped quarters. His thoughts a flurry of worries and poorly supressed insecurities, Astarion had no idea how to fix this mess. He wasn’t even sure why he was so worried about it in the first place.

By now he knew Tav well enough to be certain that she would not banish him. She would not do that to any of them without just cause. And no matter how unreasonable and hurtful he had been, she would not leave him to die.

So why did he want to fix this so badly? Surely not because he was worried that whatever this was, whatever tentative trust he’d managed to establish between them, would be over come morning once she had some time to think? Because even someone as forgiving as Tav had her limits. She was kind and warm, accepting and generous; but she was no fool.

Astarion stopped abruptly and put his arms around himself.

He had to fix this. Somehow.

Turning to his trunk, he lifted the lid and rummaged around, digging up the bottle that he was saving for a special occasion. Grovelling for his lover to forgive him seemed like special occasion enough.

Then Astarion spent an age making sure that he looked his best. After all, presentation was half the victory!

Thus primped and primed - and carrying a peace offering - Astarion stalked through the night, making sure to avoid his campmates. He really did not feel like getting some unsolicited advice from anyone for the time being.

Standing in front of the tent, he suddenly felt nervous. A strange, sick feeling in his stomach, he found he was unsure if he wanted to know what Tav would say to him.

Taking a breath he didn’t need, Astarion plastered his best smile on his face and moved the tent flap aside.

"Dearest, how about we both choose to be adults about this and make up, hm?"

"Sure," Tav said without looking up from whatever she was doing, effectively dismissing him. Clearly, it was 'thanks for the half-baked apology', but 'no thanks' to spending an evening together. Choosing to soldier on against all odds, Astarion pretended that he could not read her body language and sat down beside her on the bedroll.

"Now... Can I tempt you with some wine? Or perhaps with some other… delights?" Astarion drawled seductively, fingers dancing down the wine bottle’s curved side.

He was a vision and he knew it. Hair coiffed just so, shirt slightly loose and showing off more alabaster skin than usual. It was a very tempting sight, if only Tav were in the mood to be tempted.

She didn’t even look up.

"I'm a little busy right now."

Astarion fought back a scowl. He was finding that maintaining a charming façade was quite a challenge when Tav was so decidedly against playing along. Yet, he was not about to give up. Oh, he would not be ignored so easily! He didn’t spend an age getting ready, thinking of what he was going to say, and bringing the bottle of wine that Shadowheart squirreled away, just to be turned down. He would not spend the night alone in his own tent!

Astarion chuckled breathily. "Aren't you always? Which is why you should really let your hair down once in a while,” he dropped his voice an octave, inching towards her. “Live a little, whilst there is still living to be done."

There was a pause, and he would hold his breath if he still needed to draw it.

"Fine," Tav sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Wine, please."

"And whilst you are enjoying a goblet or two, I will fix that tear in your shirt I noticed earlier."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to. Allow yourself to be the one taken care of, for once. Or are you truly that upset with me that you would rather have to walk about with that tear?"

"I'm not upset with you. I'm angry with myself."

Now that was a development that he could not have foreseen. Angry with herself? Whatever had she done?

"Care to share why?"

"Not really."

It seemed that Tav definitely was not in the mood to make this easy for him. Luckily, he knew just how to engage her in conversation.

"And here I thought that we would play that question game you are so fond of! Go on, dearest. Question for question, as is our way."

Ah, finally a little smile for his efforts.

"I suppose.”

Tav took a sip from her goblet, eyes widening when she realised that the wine was actually pleasant. Honestly, did she really think that he wouldn’t bring something half-palatable?

"That's the enthusiastic answer I was hoping for! Now come on, off with your shirt."

Tav put her wine down and pulled the fabric of her shirt up, his eyes following the ascent as soft skin was revealed inch by tantalising inch. He ignored the unbidden, surprising urge to put his lips onto her neck, not to feed but to taste.

Tav handed him the shirt and as their fingers brushed, Astarion was glad that she wasn’t in any hurry to get away from him, allowing him to hold her hand in his.

“So um… same as last time? A question for a question?”

She moved her hand, leaving his digits to cool once her warmth was gone.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, “that seems reasonable.”

Tav stood up to get the sewing kit and a spare shirt. This gave him ample opportunity to admire her now that her back was turned. One wouldn’t want to be accused of staring! She slid the shirt on quickly, scars disappearing under the simple cloth, making him once again wonder what the story behind those was.

Tav was usually so forthcoming, answering questions without much hesitation or worry. He could understand why someone would be hesitant to talk about scars, but by the gods was he curious to find out the story behind hers!

Seeing that he probably was still in the proverbial doghouse, Astarion decided to start small.

“What is your favourite thing to eat?”

Tav looked at him over her shoulder as she adjusted her clothes.

“I’m surprised you want to know something so boring.”

“My sweet, when it comes to you, nothing could be boring,” he purred, putting his goblet to his lips and looking at her over the rim in a way that had made hundreds swoon.

Tav smiled and sat down on her bedroll, but otherwise did not seem to be affected by his act of seduction. How annoying.

“Well, whilst Gale’s efforts to make something edible out of whatever we manage to come across is close to miraculous, I do miss Baldurian Mash.”

Seeing the look on his face, Tav giggled, “Too common for your tastes?”

“On the contrary!” Astarion laughed. “I am quite sure that I too enjoyed something like this back when… well. Back when I could enjoy the taste of food.”

Tav’s face softened as he muttered the last part. Astarion shifted uncomfortably and took a gulp of his wine. Damn her and that look! Who even looked at people like that! Only Tav did, in his experience.

“As we are on the subject of food, why did you choose me to snack on? Surely others looked just as appealing?” Tav teased.

The truth was at the time he had already known enough about Tav to put his faith in her, to trust her to at least listen to his explanations. He had been almost certain that the others would strike him down for even attempting to come near their necks. Lae’zel would have probably skinned him alive, given the chance. Even now she occasionally questioned whether he was useful enough to keep around.

Astarion poured her more wine, thinking about the best way to answer her question.

“Perhaps you simply looked delicious enough for a predator such as myself to want to take a bite,” Astarion flirted without looking away, attempting to ascertain her mood.

Tav’s lips quirked into a smile and she took a sip of her wine.

“Or perhaps you had already established your reputation as a do-gooder, unable to turn away anyone imploring you to help them. Pick whichever reason you like, dearest,” Astarion shrugged.

Tav gave him a look that made Astarion both nervous and excited. Not exactly a combination a seasoned professional such as he could afford to feel. Maintaining his cool was crucial, he reminded himself. He could not afford to lose focus. Eyes on the prize and all that. The prize being Cazador's head on a silver platter, of course. Not the love of the woman in front of him. Or something equally ridiculous.

“What are you thinking of doing once our adventure is over? Assuming we don’t all die in some horrible manner.”

“I'm not sure," Tav started, "I might stay in Baldur’s Gate for a while. Assuming my house is still intact.”

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes. Is it so hard to believe?”

“Hah! And I here I was, thinking that you were a country girl through and through. Meeting each sunrise and sundown in some picturesque little village where all the neighbours call each other by their names.”

Tav huffed and moved to punch his biceps without putting much force behind it.

“Oh, don’t get angry.” Astarion caught her fist and put his lips to her knuckles, fangs moving across skin without breaking it. “It’s a compliment, if anything.”

“I will choose to take it as one.” Tav gave a little laugh and pulled back, making Astarion release her hand.

Perhaps he worded it in a way that did not necessarily sound like praise, but he just could not believe that someone as kind and warm as Tav could be a Baldurian. In spite of being thoroughly and repeatedly defiled by him, she still carried that air of sweetness about her. And whilst this irritated him initially, it was… nice. Pleasant to be around someone who did something for others without any ulterior motive. Just out of the goodness of her heart. It was quite frankly a miracle that she hadn’t been killed yet.

Thinking about her mortality had him taking a furtive glance at her side, where the worst of her scars were.

 “About your scars, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, how did you get them?”

Tav’s fingers clutched her goblet a little tighter before she caught herself and made a show of wanting to put it down by the bedroll without tipping it over on the uneven surface.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not much of a story. Just a silly girl falling in love with the wrong person only to find out he was using me for his own gain. So, you are right, in a way. Perhaps I wasn’t quite made to live in the city.”

It wasn’t much, but the way her shoulders hunched, her pained expression, her looking at anything but him felt… wrong. To Astarion, Tav was annoyingly righteous, stupidly brave, incredibly stubborn, frustratingly selfless. She was all that and so much more. She deserved better from the world and seeing her look so small made him want to hurt something.

“About earlier…” Tav began tentatively.

“My words were uncalled for. I apologise. I didn’t-”

He wanted to say that he didn’t mean any of it. He wanted to tell her that he just found himself hating that she gave her precious attention to anyone else when he wanted it for himself. He wanted to tell her many things. Naturally, he didn’t say any of them.

“I know. Which is why I was angry at myself. We are all under so much pressure, it’s a wonder that we aren’t constantly at each other’s throats.”

“I was disappointed with myself for thinking that you were like him,” Tav picked her goblet up and took a sip. “Because at that moment, I looked at your face and I saw a spectre that haunted my waking days. And it was wrong of me to assume that you were like that. So, I’m sorry too.”

Astarion felt like someone sucker punched him. Hells, he’d rather she did punch him. Pain he could take. He was used to pain over the years. But this- this raw honesty, the way she looked at him when she said that, the faith she was placing in him-

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Astarion? Are you okay?”

He was not. Because this was wrong. His nice, simple plan had backfired so spectacularly and in a way he could never have imagined.

Shit.

She was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, of course, dearest! Why wouldn’t I be? We made up! I am well, you are well. All is well,” Astarion put both of their goblets of wine away and then moved towards Tav with an intense look in his ruby eyes.

“Just perfect.” Astarion whispered the last part and pressed his lips to hers to stop Tav from asking any more questions.

Astarion lowered Tav onto the bedroll, one hand behind her head, the other on her hip. Slowly, taking his time to savour the softness of her skin, he trailed his fingers up. The fabric of her shirt bunched as his hand traced the contours of her body and settled just below her breast.

“Are you sure?” He felt warm breath against his lips as they broke apart.

Instead of replying, Astarion put his mouth on Tav’s neck, fangs grazing sensitive flesh, her heartbeat strong in his ears. Her blood called to him, but he didn’t dare bite.

He would tell her everything. And he would tell her soon. Because the thought of him being in any way like that vile man who dared to use her and scar her, to put that dejected look on her face, was something that Astarion could not bear.

His movements grew more frantic as he removed the last of the barriers between their bodies, wanting, needing to do enough that she would stay.

Because whilst he didn’t want to examine his feelings for Tav too much, not daring to hope for anything, he was terrified of what the consequences of his deception would be. 

When Tav opened her eyes the next morning, Astarion was still in her tent, his deft fingers moving with precision and making quick work of the tear in her shirt.

“Good morning,” she murmured, pushing her messy hair out of her face. Gods, she must truly look a sight.

“Good morning, my sweet,” Astarion replied without looking up, seemingly too focused on his task to pay her much attention.

Tav didn’t expect Astarion to still be here in the morning. Not that she wanted him gone. On the contrary, his staying the night was nice. The thought that he wanted to stay made her blush.

Except Tav had a small problem now. She had to get dressed and Astarion was still here. She could hobble about with her bedsheet wrapped around her body, but she would probably just end up falling forward like a graceless lump. And that was less than ideal when one was in the company of the most attractive, stunning elf.

Astarion seemed to be busy enough not to pay her any attention. And Tav hoped that she didn’t look as horrible with her hair sticking up oddly and pillow lines on her face. She quickly brushed it back and tried to tame it by running her fingers through it.

And then she saw a ghost of smirk on those mocking lips. Oh, he knew what she was doing. And he was laughing at her! That ass. That gorgeous, beautiful bastard! She would show him!

Thus, filled with a strong resolve – that is to show Astarion that he could not have her flustered and stuttering over just a smirk - Tav turned around and rose, stretching her muscles in a feline manner that had ruby eyes following her every move. Astarion’s pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, one fang worrying his lower lip.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He gave his work a quick glance before cutting the thread.

“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and ready to infiltrate Moonrise Towers, actually.” Tav quickly (but not too quickly!) dressed and went at her hair with a comb.

“Hm, seeing as how little sleep you got last night, I’d thought you would be postponing that little outing of ours.” Astarion delighted in a little squeak she gave as she dropped her comb.

“Well, I’m fine. But if you are too tired to come with us today, perhaps I can ask someone else to accompany me.”

“Someone else? Perish the thought lest you wish to perish!” Astarion rose in one graceful movement, taking a step and then another towards her. “Who can possibly watch your back better than yours truly?”

“No one can,” Tav conceded easily. She felt cool fingers on her waist as Astarion handed her the mended shirt.

“Thank you.”

“Darling, the only thanks I need is you not leaving me behind today,” he gave a breezy, lilting laugh, wondering if acting nonchalant would be enough to convince himself that her answer did not matter to him.

Please, don’t ever leave me behind.

“I wouldn’t.”

Because I’d rather take a chance on you than wonder what could have been had I been braver.

“Wise. Having Gale try his hand at picking locks could only end in disaster.”

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt.

“Oh, can you imagine! No, we need your magic touch and sneaky ways to make sure we are undetected,” she teased him and his eyes were momentarily drawn to the dimples on her cheeks. He wanted to kiss them, then make his way down the column of her neck, and then lower still until she couldn’t tell him to stop.

They were still holding the shirt, fabric bunching as fingers moved closer. Astarion let go of cloth, hesitant fingertips brushing against warm knuckles as Tav looked at him in a way that he had thought he caught her look at others.

And yet…

Perhaps it was simply a trick of the light. Or his mind playing games with him. Just wishful thinking on his part. But Astarion could not help but think that there was something more between them. Something precious and beautiful that bloomed to life among all the carnage and horror that was his life.

“Tav?” He swallowed nervously.

“Yes?”

“I-”

“Breakfast is ready!”

Saved by Gale, out of all people.

And yet…

Astarion felt a wave of disappointment as he watched Tav quickly put on her shirt, the magic of the moment broken, and they were thrust harshly back into their reality.

And yet…

When Tav took his hand and led him out of the tent, her thumb tracing circles on his cool skin, Astarion wondered if this could be real. If they could be real. Tav put her faith in him, chose to trust a predator with her life. He had thought her a fool. Now, as he looked at how radiant she looked even in these listless, lifeless lands, he wondered if he could summon a fraction of her courage and put his faith in her.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@khywren, @maeryls-journal, @larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

(divider by @saradika)

[carawenfiction]

I hope this isn't a bother. I know you aren't accepting asks anymore, so please ignore if you don't want to read 🙂

I love your story. It was my second IF ever, and it helped set the tone because it's amazing. I am so glad you wrote it. I truly love your characters. I know you aren't writing it anymore, but if you ever want to post any details from the rewrite or just random snippets, they would be devoured. I love all of the romances, but Quaiel was especially intriguing. I would love to write stories about them, but I don't want to be too far off your original thinking.

Again, please don't feel like you have to respond or care about any of this. I just appreciate your book and all your characters. I hope you have a lovely holiday season. Thank you for all your hard work.

Hello again everyone <3 thank you for this ask and all the other asks expressing concern about my well-being and asking me about potential other writing projects. And thank you to those who have sent me enthusiastic asks about the world and characters of TSS. I know it's been a long time since I was active here so the fact that I'm still getting messages and asks at all is pretty shocking to me, but makes me very happy.

I wanted to make an update here and let those who still follow me know that I'm actually in the process of writing a new IF. It has a published demo, though I won't reveal the title just yet since I want to get some more of it done before sharing it with everyone here. I feel incredibly guilty about the state I left TSS in even though I knew it was the right decision for me, and I want to make sure that I've got more to show for this new project to regain some trust that might have been lost with the long time waiting and then the cancellation.

As for TSS: while it won't be continued, the story and characters have stayed with me through the years. The reason I haven't released any snippets or my planning for how things would go is because I've been considering, if I've got enough time, to maybe rewrite the story at my own pace (it would be a very thorough rewrite and many things both storywise and characterwise would likely change), make it a complete story instead of a trilogy and release it for free. I'm still not making any promises, though - this is a very huge maybe. But it's something I would really like to do when and if there's a good opportunity to do so.

Absolutely feel free to write stories about Q and any of the other characters! I'd love to read them if you do. Part of what I love when it comes to writing is how the creativity of one person can ignite creative sparks in other people. It's honestly magical.

Take care of yourselves and thank you for sticking around <3

[butmakeitgayblog]

cruel intentions anon here 🥹 can u share something with us? like a small snippet or a scene you've scraped or idk just some ideas? I've read the fic twice but I fear I'm fr addicted to them 😭

Well I'll admit I don't have too much since I've started focusing on only one project at a time, but I have a bit of a oneshot that goes with this pic

Set a few weeks after the, ahem, conclusion of The Bet. Nothing smutty posted here unfortunately, but it will be. Oh it will be smutty. Clarke does not leave Lexa looking like that for no reason 😌

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're whistling.

Honest to God, actually whistling. 

A jaunty little tune devoid of melody and structure. Nothing more than a slow sling of notes that doesn't really have any direction in particular, because the point isn't the song itself. 

It's the mood.

And that mood is… happy.

So, so fucking happy. 

Terrifyingly, unmitigatedly, euphorically fucking happy.

It's weird and you hate it, and it's embarrassing to even think about, but you wouldn't trade this feeling for anything. 

And really, who could blame you. Not when life has never been this good. All rose colored glasses and kiss-filled memories that dance like bubbly champagne around the empty space in your head.

You genuinely don't think anyone has ever been as blissful in the existence of the world as you are right now when the doors of the elevator slide open, and you swagger your exceptional ass into your penthouse's bottom floor. 

You drop your purse on the bench and toss your keys on the countertop, praying it leaves a scratch for your stepmother to have a stroke over. Just for the hell of it. You undo the clip and feel your hair untwist in tousled ringlets draped sensually across your shoulders. 

You whistle a few more notes, and contemplate grabbing something to eat, before deciding there's nothing else in the world that you need.

Because you're in love. 

And it's that love that keeps you smiling as you walk down the hall, adding an extra click in your steps just to hear the crispness reverberate off the walls you don't pay for. It's that same love that makes your heart race as you slam the antique handles down and throw open the parlor doors with a flourish, lightheaded and so goddamn euphoric you would fucking hate the chipperness for them if it were anyone else.

It's that love that makes you so stupid that you don't even bother to look around before your eyes land on her. Beautiful and formidable as she stands behind the bar. Her lips purse at the shotgun bang of the doors, but she doesn't even jump, and her control next to your chaos makes you love her even more.

“Miss me?” you burst in with a deep chested purr.

Because you're in love and you love her and you absolutely want her to know it.

You just… don't know how to fucking say it.

Not yet.

Grey-green eyes widen like a warning shot, darting from you to the corner of the room and right back again, so quickly you would've missed it if you hadn't been staring quite so hard.

“Not particularly, no,” she snips in that contemptuous drawl of hers without missing a beat, and pops the cork back on a bottle of gin that costs more than your semester's tuition. 

You, belatedly, follow her eyes to the corner of the room and see your housemaid diligently running a duster across the frame of your great-grandfather's portrait. 

Fuck.

Your heart drops right down to your asshole, but you send up a silent prayer of thanks because at least you hadn't tacked on the pet name ‘lover’ like you'd been using so much as of late. 

That's been the closest you could get.

But Sherri doesn't seem to have heard you. Or at least she doesn't pay you any mind, not having paused from her work for even a fraction of a second at your grand entrance and social faux pas.

You stand frozen, staring at Lexa still working her magic behind the bar, adding a splash of something red to a drink before taking a sip and grimacing at its taste.

She smacks her lips and shakes her head and sets the drink back down like it's personally offended her. 

You frown at the whole display because you know she's not even a gin girl.

“Sherri,” she calls in that sweet little voice she reserves for the people she actually cares if they like her. 

“Yes, Miss Lexa,” your faithful maid answers, immediately stopping to look over.

Huh.

Apparently her hearing is just fine.

Delicate fingers discreetly land on your stomach as she passes, trailing down to your hips and snagging the bottom hem of your sweater, yanking just so to send you stumbling several feet away from the door and out of the way.

“You should take the evening off,” Lexa says once she's left you off-balance in her wake. “Go enjoy life for a change.”

“Oh, I don't think—” Sherry starts but cuts off at the soft tisk from Lexa's lips. 

“No. No. Now, there is simply nothing to think about, because that was not a suggestion, my chérie.”

You smile at the lilt of her teasing. Always in awe, because for the life of you, you'll never understand how she manages to be such a condescending bitch while still sounding so innocent. So warm and pleasant. 

And to be fair, it really hadn't been a suggestion. 

You stand forgotten in the late afternoon shadows and watch as she closes in on your maid like a huntress. All sculpted calves and four inch heels. Hands tucked daintily behind her back.

“But your mother—”

“Will never know,” Lexa whispers, bringing one long, sexy finger up to press against the pout of her smile. “I can keep a secret if you can…”

Sherri sighs in her defeat and shakes her head with the fondness of an exasperated mother, and you wonder if there's anyone this girl can't charm off their feet.

Lexa preens.

“Good. Now, a little birdy told me it was your birthday this weekend.” She pauses just long enough for your maid to nod in surprise. “And, well… I guess I just couldn't help myself.”

You cross your arms and make yourself comfy by settling a shoulder against the wall. More than thrilled to just sit back and take in the show as this fucking magician pulls out a bracelet from goddamn nowhere. 

She hushes the woman's flustered coughs, ignores hands slipping through greying red hair and automatic dismissals of, “no, Miss Lexa, this is—I couldn't possibly.” She soothes it all with honeyed words of reliability and sacrifice and devotion to our comfort, all while clasping the understated but opulent chain to an overworked wrist, connected to a woman who doesn't seem to quite know what to do with herself. Nimble fingers twist and turn the apparently well-thought-out gift so it lays perfectly in place, admiring her own exquisite taste in jewelry more than anything, you already know.

You wonder when the hell she got so thoughtful. 

She ushers the woman out with a firm, guiding hand to her back, mouth tipped in a demure smile as she assures her, this is exactly what she wants. 

The parlor doors close much more gently than when you'd entered through them, and she spins gracefully on her heel, looking so fucking pleased with herself.

You hold her eyes. 

Uncross your arms.

And slowly, loudly, begin to clap.

“Well aren't you made of sugar and spice and everything nice, Miss Lexa.”

She pinches the sides of her skirt and fans them out, dipping into a mere suggestion of a curtsey.

You move as though to reach for her because it's been six hours too long since you've had your hands on that body, but her pleasantries drop away as she sends you a scowl and slips just out of reach. 

“Next time, have a touch more decorum when entering a room,” she sighs over the authoritative clack-clack of her heels. “I had just gotten that bracelet. Didn't even have a chance to wear it out yet.”

Ah.

Now that makes more sense.

Fuck, you love how good she is at thinking on her feet.

“No one told you to kiss her ass with jewelry, for fucks sake,” you mutter despite the efficacy of her brilliance because really, she always had to be so damn extra about everything. 

“It was all I had, and thanks to someone,” she says with a pointed edge, “I didn't exactly have time to figure out another distraction. And since I'm fairly certain she at least already knows we're sleeping together, I'd much rather stay in her good graces. I can handle losing a bracelet in exchange for…”

She trails off and vaguely gestures to the air between you. 

The thought alone of someone else knowing makes you want to vomit. 

You cross your arms tighter. 

“Why do you think that she knows?”

That evil fucking brow of her flits up when she looks at you like you're an idiot.

“Because you're not quiet, and she's not stupid, and half of Greenwich knows what you sound like when you come.”

You grit your teeth and wonder if it's worth reminding her who came on your fingers while loudly calling your name last night, but when she struts her perfectly bubble shaped ass back over to the bar, you ultimately decide that, no, it is in fact not worth it.

Apparently done with the minor complication of your eagerness and the conversion as a whole, she picks up the drink you'd all but forgotten and holds it out at arm's length, letting it dangle from the mere tips of her elegant fingers. 

“For you, my darling.”

You still haven't figured out exactly what she's playing at when she calls you that, because you know she is never sweet for nothing. You know there has to be a barb in there somewhere. Some sort of slight on your character or something. She shouldn't just call you ‘darling’ for no reason… But for the life of you, when she looks at you like this - like you're the only thing that matters in her broad and expansive world - you can't figure what it could possibly be.

“Gin and… cherries?” you ask when you take the glass and give a tiny sniff of the drink. 

She smiles indulgently and twists away to retake her place behind the bar, and suddenly her grimace from her sip before makes sense.

She hates sweet drinks.

Well.

Unless she's kissing the taste of them from your lips. 

“So is this what we're doing now?” You examine your drink closer. It doesn't look poisoned anyway. “It's this what we've become?”

She hums in question as she picks up a second shaker and stirs the contents. You watch her grab a martini glass and begin to pour her own crystal clear drink and, yes, that's much more her style.

You truly are fucking a master mixologist. Which you suppose is bound to happen considering she's been making drinks for one person or another since the tender age of thirteen…

“My kingdom for some context, darling,” she murmurs when you're too enamored to answer, popping an olive into her glass and taking a healthy sized pull, moaning at the taste.

You down half your bramble in one go and traipse yourself around the back of the bar.

Setting the drink down at her side, you put your empty hands to much better use. Drift your fingers across the soft dip of her back and trace her hips, holding her steady as you press in and drape yourself along the length of her.

“Acting like a vintage married couple,” you clarify in a whisper. You reach up and pull her hair aside to expose the delicious expanse of her neck, and you wonder in what lifetime you actually managed to do something good enough to deserve the way she tips her head to the side to give you more access. 

You mouth slow, wet kisses along the sensitive spot just behind her ear as she sighs, “Is that what this is?”

“You tell me, pretty girl.” You smile against her skin when she shudders at the name. “Waiting for me to come home to you. Having a drink ready. Did you make me a special little dinner to eat as well?”

And you're still getting used to this.

This thing with her you've been playing at for the last couple of weeks. This truce or whatever it is that leaves you so off balance you never know which end is up.

Because you've never had something like this. 

Because where you expect a scoff and a rebuff of your entire charade, she only presses harder into you with a sensual groan. Where you expect her to fling your hands away and shove you off of her entirely as she would have before, she merely sets down her glass, and kisses your lips, and covers your hands with her own.

"Not in your wildest dreams, my love," she whispers with an adoring grin, and kisses you deeper again.

[cliophilyra]

Late Fuck It Friday or Early Some Sentences Sunday!

I don't think I've been tagged by anyone (apologies if I've missed one!) but I had something to post so 'ere 'tis 🥳 Managed to do 1090 words of NTYK today (thanks @makepeacelovejoy for doing sprints with me this afternoon!! 🩷) so here's a little bit! (Also just for clarity, Tommy doesn’t know who Bucks baby daddy is yet and Buck doesn’t know he knows Sal at all)

Buck wipes a piece of cold pancake through a pool of syrup and sighs as he pops it in his mouth. It may actually taste better than he remembers, he thinks, wondering if that’s a thing. Something is missing though. He looks around and realises Tommy has poured himself a coffee but hasn’t gotten him one. He gets up and grabs a mug, making to pour his own. Tommy looks up surprised. “Ah…should…?” He tails off awkwardly. Buck looks down at the pot. “What?” “Coffee…is that…ok for—” Buck raises an eyebrow and swipes Tommy’s mug, gulping down half of it. “If I am going to do this I will not be doing it un-caffeinated.” Tommy gives a small eye-roll and smiles the smile of a man who knows how to pick his battles.

They eat in companionable silence for a bit, Tommy drinking the second coffee he’d poured himself once it became apparent that Buck had annexed the first cup. Buck is most of the way through eating when he realises that this is the first morning in three weeks or so that he hasn’t felt like throwing up. Not yet at least, he thinks, absently knocking on the wooden seat. Maybe things are looking up. “Evan,” Tommy starts and something about his tone has Buck’s stomach jumping. Spoke too soon… “Hmm?” He says, trying to sound like he isn’t freaking out. “I was thinking,” he pauses, Buck panics. “The father…I know you said you didn’t want to tell him--” “Because I don’t,” Buck says sharply. Maybe a little more sharply than he’d meant. “I get that, I do. And it’s up to you in the end but…” Tommy tails off and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, sighing before he looks back at Buck. “I think…I think I’d want to know, y’know. If it was me.”

“But he’s not you Tommy,” Buck protests. He doesn’t want to be angry, he knows Tommy means well but he doesn’t want to get into this. He’s made his decision as far as Sal goes. “He’s not…I don’t know him. I don’t even know if he’s a good guy. Not really.” “You said he...seemed like a decent guy.” “He did! For the literal handful of hours that I knew him he seemed great. He was kind and funny and…and he seemed to really care. So I guess I got lucky there. But it was one night. For all I know he could’ve been a serial killer on a night off.” Tommy winces and doesn’t smile.

More snippets here

Tagging people for tomorrow (or today if you want!) @rdng1230 @racerchix21 @bangpop91 @nine-one-wanton @bidisasterevankinard

@peppermintquartz @leashybebes @firehose118 @dum-amo-vivo9 @gaybonesforivy

@paperyowl @pool-spidey @bucksbignaturals @trombonechurchill @sunnywithachanceofbi

[futuremrsreid]

Love Like Ghosts - Chapter One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Hotchner!Reader

Warnings: Angst, flirty talk, Spencer isn’t an asshole he’s just deeply traumatized

A/N: Bear in mind, English isn’t my first language. This one is short, I guess it’s more of a prologue. Read this post for backstory on the reader

"I'm back in DC. Will you meet me for coffee tomorrow? At 3 p.m., the usual place? I heard you guys are on official time-out for a few weeks."

I waited 5 hours and 30 minutes, but no reply came. Good thing I didn't care about sounding desperate.

"Please, Spencer. I just want to talk."

"I'll be there."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My fingers nervously fiddled with the menu laid out before me. The clock at the small café showed me the same time my phone already did. 2:55 pm. 5 minutes before we said we would meet, but for Spencer, that meant he was late. And since the last at least dozen times we had met here, he was always 10 minutes early.

I figured he didn't necessarily want to see me, but I never thought he would stand me up.

Maybe he had changed. I haven't seen him in so long, and from the snippets I had managed to get out of my dad, 3 months in prison did a number on him. My stomach churned at the thought.

Yet before my brain could spiral more, the small bell above the entrance rang, and Spencer Reid entered. His eyes scanned the few tables until he finally saw me.

I awkwardly waved at him, immediately chastising myself under my breath.

I felt like I couldn't breathe for the seconds it took for him to walk over. And when he finally sat down, my breath was still caught in my lungs.

His hair was longer and messy, his face pale and unshaven. Beautiful, like always, but in a devastatingly sad way.

"Hi", I said, voice cracking uncharacteristically. He noticed immediately.

"Hey", his reply was soft, despite his intense gaze on me.

"Thank you for coming. I won't hold you long. I get that you maybe don't really want to talk to me, but my dad told me what happened, and I just-", I stopped, not knowing how to put it without sounding desperate. "He said you were fine, but I wanted to see for myself."

"And?" his one-word reply came. I wasn’t sure how to handle this, to handle him. But I was never afraid to be honest with him, and I wouldn't start now.

"Well, either you have been lying to everybody, or you have been lying to yourself and everybody. You're clearly not fine." I could see that he didn't appreciate my answer, but we both knew I was right. He leaned back in his seat.

"Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"

"What?"

"You said you'd get that I maybe wouldn't want to talk to you. Why would you think that?"

"Well, I-", I paused, unsure about what to say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7 months ago

"Thank you for driving me home. I'm still embarrassed that you had to pick me up there. As I've told you at least 10 times now, I usually don't go there."

"What? You usually don't spend your free time in dirty sticky bars? Who would've thought...", he was barely able to hide his grin, but when I jokingly hit his shoulder in fake offense, he chuckled.

"No, and you know....Usually, I try to be the dirtiest and stickiest thing in a bar, which would be unachievable in a place like that." I joked and flashed him a mischievous grin, taking note of the redness spreading on his face.

"I hope you know that that's an extremely odd goal to have."

My reply came in a giggle and the rattling of my keys as I pushed them into the lock of my apartment door.

"Wanna come in? I can make you a cup of tea. I add ginger to it. It's actually famous in my family." He had never been in my apartment before. It was a line we hadn't crossed, and I wasn't sure he even wanted to. But when I opened the door and turned back around to him, there was a kind of longing in his eyes. Confirmation came in the form of a nod, his body following mine inside.

It really shouldn't have felt as forbidden as it did. I wasn’t a child. We weren't doing anything illegal. Yet my skin prickled when I felt the heat of his body behind mine.

"This is exactly how I imagined your apartment. I like it, it fits you."

"You imagined how I live...Interesting fact, Dr. Reid." I walked towards my small kitchen to make the tea I had promised him. "You imagined what my bedroom looks like as well?"  I heard him trip behind me.

"Did uh- Did you know someone's bedroom often reflects their personality because it’s in our nature to influence our environs to our choice and preferences. Over time, your bedroom reveals your personality and it develops a persona of its own. It's extremely improbable that any two bedrooms will look the same. So a tidy room can suggest a person is organized, detail-oriented, and perhaps even a bit of a perfectionist. Conversely, a messy room could indicate a more relaxed, less structured personality, or perhaps even a sign of underlying issues like disorganization or difficulty letting go of possessions."

"I bet you're just dying to see my bedroom to prove that theory."  I flashed a grin at him over my shoulder, my hands busy preparing our tea.

"I mean, the more data is input into a statistic, the more accurate it becomes." I breathed a laugh and put a mug with steaming tea in front of him.

"Bold." When I looked up, I was surprised to see that he's holding my gaze. "Also sounds like the beginning of a very nerdy adult movie." Cheeks warmed and eyes shy away, and after a moment, mine did too. I busied myself with sips of my tea.

“You usually use humor and sarcasm to deflect. Something you want to talk about?”

“No, not really. I mean, getting left alone in a dirty bar because my friend decided to leave with some guy wasn’t necessarily nice, but…other than that, I’m fine. And while I normally use my humor to deflect, I also often use it just to unnerve you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun. And it causes you to blush. And I just-” pause. I wasn’t sure if I should say it. But his eyes were expectantly following my every move, and so I set down my mug and took a step closer to him. “I guess I just like to cause a reaction in you.”

“But why?” His mug joined mine on the counter. We were suddenly so close that he would only have to raise his hand to touch me.

“Because…sometimes it feels like you try so hard not to have one. A reaction to me, I mean. Sometimes it feels like you distance yourself until you’re a thousand miles away, and the only way to reach you is to get you vulnerable enough so that my mind can touch yours. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

“Y/N I-” He sighed and looked away again. I could see it in his eyes, the distance.

“There! That is exactly what I mean. Why do you do that?” No answer came, so I grew frustrated. “Tell me why you won’t let me near.”

“Because I can’t!” His words were too loud for the tiny space we had created. “I just- I can’t.”

“But why?” My voice cracked on the words. It was quiet for another moment before I asked what I had been too afraid to ask this whole time. “Is it because I’m your boss’s daughter? Or is it because you think I’m too young for you?”

“That’s not-”

“Or is it because you’re too afraid to let someone in? Because if it is, I can understand that. Do you think this is easy for me? It’s not. But I-” He turned away suddenly.

“I should never have come inside. This isn’t good for either of us.” He turned away to leave, but I gripped his sweater with just enough force to stop him and turn towards me again. His eyes met mine and every word vanished from my mind. My defences were gone, and even if they weren’t, he wouldn’t listen to them anyway. So I did the only thing I could think of.

I rose up on my toes to kiss him, and his hands found the sides of my head like he had been waiting for it. Months of build-up came crashing down on us fast, but I felt alive. His lips were soft against mine, fingers buried in my hair.

We kissed until there was no air left in our lungs, and after that his lips moved to my jaw as the small of my back hit the kitchen counter.

A small moan escaped me from the impact, and everything shattered. 

I felt the cold air before I registered him moving away. He was halfway across my apartment when I came to my senses and went after him.

“Spencer, wait-”

“I told you I can’t do this, Y/N. We can’t do this!” I opened my mouth but he took the words right out of my mouth. “Don’t ask me why. We just can’t.”

“But-” Weak pleas on deaf ears.

“No. I am not repeating myself. I don’t think we should keep meeting. It will get both of us hurt.”

“Spencer!” But he was already out the door.

The next days were spent with more desperate pleas sent via text.

“Call me back, please.”

“I just want to talk.”

“Spencer, please just call me back.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“You kissed me back like you wanted to.”

“Can we just talk about this, please?”

“Are you going to ignore me forever?”

“You know, I could just turn up at your work, right? I’m a Hotchner after all.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I hope you know I would never do that.”

“But what about the next dinner party at Rossi’s? Are you gonna pretend I don’t exist?”

“Did that kiss truly mean nothing to you?”

The last message stung, sitting on read for days. But after three weeks, I managed to accept that it was over. Spencer Reid did not want me in his life. And as much as it hurt, I had to find a way to live with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You weren’t eager to talk to me before everything went to shit, so I figured it wouldn’t be any different now.” I finally said. My hands started fiddling with the menu again, our coffees cold and long forgotten. I could feel his eyes on me.

“The last time I saw you, you had a head injury and were terrified out of your mind. Of course, I wanted to see you. I wanted to make sure you’re alright too. I just- I didn’t know how to reach you and if you had your phone.” His confession made me look up to see his eyes already on me. I held his gaze for a moment, for about 3 heartbeats, before I forced a smile on my face.

“And?” I repeated his earlier question, trying to make it sound funny. From the look on his face, I hadn’t managed.

“Well, you seem physically fine. You’re nervous, but that's because of this situation. And the rest… I was never good at reading you, never knew what was going on in your head. I guess you get that from Hotch.” His hands reached out to take the menu from me, probably to keep me from accidentally ripping it. His fingers grazed my wrist unintentionally. I felt like I was going to burst into tears. “Will you tell me how you are?”

“Oh, I am fine. Like you promised all those months ago…Nothing happened to us, or me.”

“I hate to admit that I had no part in that.”

“You had other things to worry about.” I wasn’t sure if I could say it out loud. In prison for 3 months.

“Funny you say that, when in reality prison gave me too much time to worry about all of the things I couldn’t control. Like my mother getting sicker every day, and the fact that Scratch was still running around free, and I had no idea if you were okay.” My throat felt like it was getting tighter. I didn't expect him to worry so much.

“Penelope told me that your mother was better now. Is that not true?” 

“No, it is. She's better now. But things were getting worse for a while, which was mainly my fault.” Self-deprecation and shame laced his words. “It's a long story, and also the story of how I got framed for murder in the first place. I don't feel like telling it.”

“That's okay. You don't have to tell me anything.” My words were almost a whisper. “Are you talking to someone at least?” He paused and leaned back in his seat slightly, guarded.

“Yes. My reinstatement requires mandatory therapy, if that's what you mean.” 

“And how about a non-mandatory therapist? Because you and I both know you want to be reinstated and would keep things from them to achieve that.” I regretted my words the second they had left my mouth.

“Prentiss isn't worried, so neither should you.” Cold, harsh words, meant to throw me off, I'm sure.

“I'm not doubting your ability in the field, Spencer. I'm worried about you.”

“You don't think we are past that point?” I could see that he didn't really mean it, but he had said it nonetheless. And I knew he did it to hurt me. I swallowed down the tears that stung in my eyes.

“You just told me you worried about me while you were in prison. So why would you say that.” The hurt was visible in my voice.

“That's different.” His whole body tensed, arms crossing in front of him.

“How?” 

“It just is.”

“That's not a real answer and you know it!” The sadness disappeared and was replaced by hot, burning anger. “ ‘It just is’, ‘I can't’, ‘Don't ask me why, we just can’t’.” I said, mocking his voice. Bile rose in my throat, but I pushed it down. “I am not a stupid child, Spencer. You don't get to treat me like one! You might think that you don't owe me these explanations, but you do!”

“I don't owe you anything, Y/N.” He said it with such certainty and resentment that I couldn't stop the tears from flooding. The other people in the cafe were looking our way when an involuntary sob left me. “Y/N, I-” 

But the room suddenly felt too small, and the air too thick. I knew I had to leave now to keep at least some of my dignity. So I quickly grabbed my bag and scrambled out of the seat. 

He called my name again, but I didn't want to hear anything else from him.

[salford-blues]

The origins

A/n: It's been a couple weeks since I last wrote anything. I've been really busy and I'm burnt out :( Also this is my first proper written fic. I've mainly posted SMAU's, so if it's not good... I'm sorry. Would love to hear your critiques etc! Pairing: f1 x driver!reader Summary: The origins of our driver!reader - snippets of her growing up Warnings: butchered german??? Italics are the thoughts!

2008 - 5 years old

GROSSER PREIS SANTANDER VON DEUTSCHLAND 2008

The stands were crowded with energetic fans waiting for their favourite drivers to come out. Roars of laughter between friends and families. Piercing screams of devoted fans. In the middle of it all, a 5-year-old girl wrapped in the arms of her father with her hands over her ears trying to block out the deafening noise.

''It's too loud Papi. When's it home time?'' the girl pouted.

''Not just yet Spatzi (little sparrow). The drivers should be out any minute now.'' her father sighed. The child frowned and buried her head into his shoulder and neck.

Instantaneously, the crowd began to yell. Names were shrieked left, right, and centre. People pushing and shoving trying to get a picture or an autograph with their favourite driver. Luckily, the child and her father had managed to make it to the front without too much effort. They now had a perfect view of the track.

One by one the cars came out of the paddocks and lined up at the starting line.

''Who do you like Papi?'' the girl questioned, intrigued by the cars and their colours.

''I like Williams, do you see the navy blue and white car over there?'' her father pointed towards the middle of the grid.

''Uhhuh,'' she nodded, eyes lighting up at the car.

''That's the one that I really like. Which one do you like Schatz (treasure)?'' he questioned the child.

''Hmmm, I liikkeee... I think I like Williams too! Just like you Papi. I think I like the red car too.'' the girl's eyes shone as she spoke. Excitement now lacing her voice. There was a look of adoration on her father's face. Oh, how he loved his little bundle of joy.

''You can like whoever you want. The red car is a Ferrari.'' her father exclaimed.

''F-Fir-aa-r-ee? Ferrari! Yeah, I like that one too, but that one goes second!'' she said adamantly.

Suddenly, the cars were off, speeding down the track.

There was a glisten in the youngster's eyes. The screaming of the crowd was long forgotten. All she could hear was the vrooming of the cars. Wow, they're really fast. I want to do that.

''I want to be a race car driver when I'm older Papi! I'm gonna go really fast like vrrrrooomm." she held out her hands and acted as if she was driving a car.

2009 - 6 years old

''Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Spatzi! (Happy Birthday, little sparrow!)''

The young girl stirred in her bed.

''Wakey wakey sleepy head... you don't want to miss out on opening presents do you.''

At that comment, the girl shot up in bed. Her wide eyes glanced up at her father, excitement running through her body.

''Please can I have waffles for breakfast? Can we go see Oma? Can we see Mami? Oooh can we make those doughnuts with the sugar on top for dessert? Plleeaassee?'' she gave her father her best puppy dog eyes.

''Okay, okay. How about we open your presents first and then see where the day takes us? How does that sound?'' her father queried.

A swift nod of the head gave her father all the conformation he needed and with that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her down into the living room. The room was decorated with brightly coloured banners, balloons stuck to the wall via sellotape and streamers hung from the ceiling. On the living room table, 6 presents stood tall and were screaming to be opened by a certain birthday girl.

Once set down on the ground, the birthday girl ran over to the presents. She picked the first one up, inspecting its size before placing it down and ripping open the wrapping paper. Inside a box of Lego with an image of a Ferrari. The girl giggled with excitement moving on to her next present.

The small child was down to her last two presents. Both were small and sat on the corner of the table. Small hands picked up the thin present that sat on top, tearing open the wrapping paper. A signed driver's card sat inside. Shock spread across the young girl's face. A signed piece by Kimi Raikkonen. This just might be the best present ever!

''Oh wooooow! Danke Papi! This is the best present ever.'' She ran over wrapping her small arms around the man's neck.

''You're very welcome. But how about opening up your last one.'' he smiled at her.

She curiously looked back and took the present into her arms. The present was squishy under her touch. Possibly clothes? Carefully, the wrappers ripped open. A blue and white race suit sat inside.

''Do you like it, Schatz?''

''I love it! I love it! I love it!'' the girl twirled around with the race suit in hand.

2015 - 11 years old

''Hallo Logan!'' The girl ran up to the young lad. ''Do you want to get ice cream after the race? I'll ask Oscar if he wants to come too."

The blonde boy nodded his head and smiled. ''Yeah, I'd like that.''

''Okay, bye Logan.'' The girl waved before heading in the direction of her Aussie friend.

''Hallo Oscar! Do you want to come and get ice cream after the race with me and Logan?''

''Sure. Let me ask my parents.'' He ran off towards his parents.

Alone she stood listening to her surroundings. Loud chatter coming from children and parents. Birds chirping in the trees.

Hearing the latter she skipped towards the trees before noticing a small bird hopping around. Approaching the bird slowly, she scooped the animal into her hands and held it against her chest.

''I will help you little birdie! Papi, Papi look what I found. Can we help it get better?''

''Sure, we'll take it home with us.'' he smiled.

Strolling over were Oscar and Logan.

''What'cha got there N/n?'' Logan asked curiously.

''It's a bird... We're gonna take it home and look after it.'' She exclaimed.

''We are still up for ice cream though aren't we Birdie?'' Oscar peered a the girl.

''Of course we are Osc... birdie?? Why that??''

''Oh y'know... you've got a bird in your hand, so your new nickname is birdie,'' he uttered as if it was obvious.

''Ahh okie.'' A blush spread across her cheeks in embarrassment.

A whilst blew signalling that the race was about to begin.

''Papi, will you take care of it whilst I race?'' She turned back.

''Of course I will Spatzi. Now run along. The quicker you go the quicker you can get ice cream.''

yourusername

landonorris, georgerussell63, liamlawson30 & others liked

Ice cream dates just like old times. @oscarpiastri @logansargeant

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oscarpiastri Birdie delete this. This makes it out like we're all dating

> yourusername WAIT... WE ARENT????

>> logansargeant now look what you've done, you've made her cry...

>>> oscarpiastri We're not dating though???

user.1 why is Logan acting like a third wheel??

user.2 are they dating though? or is it two of them and then the third just tags along?

> user.3 I think they're just really weird friends

>> user.2 yhhh checks out

liamlawson30 annnd where was my invite?

> yourusername you weren't invited because you beat me at connect 4

>> user4 lmaaooo. Didn't realise y/n was a sore loser

>>> liamlawson30 you should see her when she plays monopoly

[mediumgayitalian]

wip wednesday poll time

hi. how are you. i hope youre well. it is time at the moment to choose one of five wips for me to update tomorrow. will i 100% listen to democracy? we shall see. is there i chance i leave it to the last minute and get too tired to write anything but a 100 ways? you betcha. but regardless: the poll will immediately succeed this message. then, i will link previous iterations of each wip AND a small snippet of what i currently have for the update. i will work on and post this TOMORROW. read snippets before u vote. mwah. love u.

modern courting: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Annabeth hip-checks her brother gently, stepping out onto the porch and sliding the door shut behind her. She yawns behind her hand.

"What's up, dude?"

Nico blinks at her. "I forget you spent much of your life in California."

Annabeth flushes. "I'll go back inside."

"No no no no, I'm sorry, I need your help so bad."

As if Nico had said hey I have a blank cheque here with your name on it, Annabeth perks up. All sleepiness evaporates from her gray eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I'm -- stupid, Annabeth. I have reached the bitter end of processing power in my brain. It's lonely down here. I've got, like, a lonely cracker and some pocket lint. I'm bereft."

"You lost me at the second sentence."

"I just mean --" Nico draws in a breath, pressing his knuckle to his nose -- "I don't...know things."

Annabeth stares at him. 

"...Uh-huh."

"Like. Things of the...heart. Mind. You know, feelings."

"Nico, is this about -- look." She presses her hands together, inhaling. "I'm no matchmaker, man. I support your plan wholeheartedly and am rooting for you but I landed my boyfriend by insulting him upon first meeting him. I just -- I got nothing, okay. Human behavior is the antithesis to logic. Every emotion makes me cry forever. Flirting? I don't know her. I threaten and wink and it works for me. I'm --"

"Percy says he thinks it's a self-esteem problem," Nico blurts. Annabeth falters. "He thinks he -- hates himself."

"...Oh." She sags against the door, sighing. "Oh, um. Yeah. He does."

Yeah. He does.

Nico stands there, struck dumb.

"And -- Percy," he manages eventually. "Hates himself."

Annabeth nods. "Yes."

pomegranate au: 1 2 *NSFW **this snippet is subject to change bc i hate it

They reach the bathhouse quickly. It is a grander building, and as they approach Will quiets, commentary fading back into his quiet humming. Nico blinks, and realizes he misses it. He swallows back the urge to ask him a leading question and follows him instead through the open doorways.

The bathhouse is hot, wet and humid. Braziers burn lowly in between a circlet of forty or more sitz baths, each made of polished stone, each with a stair for an attendant and a plethora of soaps to choose from. In the widened pupil of the tholos is the piscina, steam curling gently from its blue waters, stones warmed and resting gently on the mosaicked base. The tiny colored tiles paint scenes of the Olympians greatest battles; their defeat of the raging Cronus, the subjugation of sneaking Prometheus. Easily accessible in spanning shelves lie bars and bottles of soaps and incense, of perfume and dried flower petals. The entire house smells of sweet oil and clean water.

Will waits at the rows of hooks near the entrance, basket at his feet, eyes trained to Nico expectantly. Nico realizes he is waiting for Nico's direction: hip baths, or communal. Bathing together, or being bathed. Nico swallows, lifting off his robe. Quickly, eyes still steady, Will removes his podea, standing loose and tall in the nude. Nico fumbles with the neck of his tunic, getting it caught on the mess of his hair, and Will laughs, softly, reaching over to his burning face to ease him out of it.

"Early morning, my Lord," he excuses, biting back a smile. "The most robust of gods are not quite coordinated until the sun crests high on its horizon."

Nico does not answer so he does not crack on his words. He turns, instead, and walks, shoulders tense and reddened, to the piscina, pausing at the stone ledge.

Will walks, feet padding, a beat after him.

volleyball: 1

Over the years Will has noticed a lot of his friends develop the idea that he secretly hates the infirmary.

He does not.

Sure, there are bad memories. There are times when he steps on a floorboard that he doesn't usually, and the creak of the wood sounds exactly the same as when he stumbled onto it, time ago, blood on his hand, dead body on his gurney. Or when the wind blows the curling hyacinth in the windows right to him, on busy mornings, and suddenly he hears his older sister's laughter, long gone, swirling among the petals. Or, worst, he sorts through the old filing cabinets, and there is a file he's missed from years past, covered in handwriting that is so familiar it aches.

Of course there is grief.

There is grief everywhere.

He cannot escape it in his cabin, or in the cabin he claims most nights; he cannot escape it in the softened brush of his guitar; he cannot escape it in the campfire, in loud, rowdy mealtimes, in the height of Thalia's pine. He cannot escape it in his tiny room back home where the Texas heat swells and the electric fan never stops humming. He cannot escape it in his dreams, in the idioms he uses he copied from his brothers, his friends. What Will's friends do not understand is that camp is his home. Camp is his home, and his home has long since been haunted, and the ghosts that live alongside him wave to him every morning.

Will waves back, smiling softly.

5+1: 1

"I need you to switch your archery block with me and not tell Will," Nico says, ignoring the insult. "No further questions allowed."

"No questions will be an extra seven dollars."

"What? No way!"

"One dollar per question, Tony Stark." She scowls. "Curse our society for making rich characters cool. I'm trying to insult you."

Nico really considers telling her to stuff it. One dollar per question is a ridiculous rate and he refuses to pay on principle.

However.

There is no way he is getting the forty dollars he has already given to her back, so.

"Your bloodline will be cursed a generation per bill," mutters Nico darkly, counting out the bills. He is in fact short, and has to reach through the shadows to the loose panel under Cecil's bed and borrow a few quarters.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright." She squares her shoulders, staring up at him. She has a way of appearing as if she is six feet tall, when in fact she is four-foot-three. "I will do this for you. But note: I don't need that archery practice." She plants her feet on the ground, tilts her chin up, and stares. Nico realizes abruptly that this is not playfulness on her end, this is not the character she plays when they have these such interactions -- her face is darkly serious, mouth drawn into a thin line. "I think it's funny what you're doing, di Angelo. But my brother is sensitive. This better not be a joke."

Nico's eyes widen. "It's not. I -- swear, Kayla, I'd never do that."

She nods. "Good."

She makes a show of slinging her bow, stalking across the common with the sun glinting off her arrows. Nico is under no such delusions that it is unintentional. He watches her gather her siblings, rushing them away between the stables and strawberry fields before Will notices.

road trip au: 1 2 3 4

It is not quite dark, when they cross the Tennessee border, but the sign is squarely behind them and deep, dark orange, glinting blindingly off the blue road sides. Regardless, Will doesn't falter; he does not slow down and squint at every exit sign or murmur to himself as he counts the miles. This is unusual, because Nico has seen him squint to verify the street signs on the road he lives on.

Nico watches him, quietly.

Will pretends he doesn't.

They are in and out of Chattanooga. The mountains, too, are only flashes -- beautiful, staggering flashes, but Will winds through them with ease, and does not pause. Nico notes the bored holes every few feet and traces the jagged cliff faces with his eyes, memorizing the way the setting sun turns the stone to ruby.

He flinches every time there is a sharp turn, or a hole in the road. Every twitch of Will's shoulders has him gripping onto the holy shit handle, and if Will so much as removes one hand to scratch his nose Nico stops breathing. They are never doing this again.

But it is nice, this one time. To watch the world whir by outside the rolled-down windows.