#ignore that i keep switching between third and second pov

[satoblue]

forbidden fruit!reader throws up on satoru’s dick the first time she tries giving him a blowjob

[radawayghoul]

His Little Dove | Chapter 1

The Plan

Warnings: cursing, slight age difference, innuendos, height difference, ummm calling people names, angst, i think i switched from second to third POV at a certain point so..bad/subpar writing is a warning lol, 18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Lee Russell x Reader (AFAB)

Word Count: 2,123

A/N: it's finnniisshheeddd!! ugh i actually am so insanely proud of this chapter!! thank you so much to everyone who has been waiting to read this!! i'm genuinely so honored and am starting chapter two as we speak!! the comments and stuff really motivate me so much 🥹

 Following behind Lee and Neal, Y/N listened in on their conversation, a bit confused as to why you’d been invited. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, the bloodbath begins,” Lee said around a mouth full of smoke, “She’s got me off my rocker, Gamby. We gotta act quick,” Lee adjusted his hold on his cigarette, “Now, she’s tied up in teacher reviews for the next 72 minutes. That gives us some time.” 

Y/N arched a brow. “Time to do what, Lee?” You questioned him, “Who exactly are we sabotaging?” Y/N knew the name of Lee’s game by now. 

“Oh, great, Russell, why did you invite her?! She’s not even familiar with the parameters of our plan!” Neal exclaimed, yanking his toothpick out from between his teeth, pausing in the middle of the school parking lot. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Gamby!” Lee whined, “Treat Y/N with a little respect! Ohhh, Y/N, darlin’, I’m so sorry for this fat fuckin’ losers disrespect, please just ignore him, okay, pretty bird?” Lee gave you a sickeningly sweet smile before turning back to Neal with a disgruntled look, “Loosen the fuck up or I will do this shit on my own motherfucker. Now, let’s go dig up some dirt on that grimy bitch.” 

Neal scoffed but followed after Lee begrudgingly, Y/N speeding up her steps to keep up. 

You had no idea WHO you were sabotaging but you weren’t one to say no to Lee. You never said no to Lee Russell. And you absolutely never fucking would. 

-----------

The three of them rolled up on a house that Y/N knew all too well. Lee’s house. This did little to lessen your confusion but you trusted Lee. 

“Is this where she lives? What a shit-hole.” Neal chuckled. 

Y/N snorted as Lee ripped off his sunglasses. 

“This is my house, motherfucker! It’s a mid-century sea ranch!” Lee yelled, huffing a sigh before continuing, “Now, stay here, I gotta go get somethin’.” Lee got out of the car and strutted towards his front door. 

“You should go easier on him, Neal. Really.” Y/N said, crossing her arms, leaning back into her seat. 

“Oh shut up, Y/N! God! Stop being so pretentious.” Neal groaned, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

Y/N looked over as Lee was followed out of the house by his screaming mother-in-law, Mi Cha, looking stressed to the heavens. 

“Shut up! Shut up! All I hear is gibberish from you, shut up! Go back in the house!” Lee yelled before turning to walk towards the car, “Like nails on a fuckin’ chalkboard.” He groaned, stopping when he got to the car, closing his eyes in frustration as the woman kept screaming, “GO BACK IN THE HOUSE!!!” He yelled louder this time, pointing angrily at the open door. 

“FUCK YOU!” Mi Cha yelled, finally walking back inside. 

Lee grunted as he got back inside the car, a noise that made the butterflies in the pit of your stomach stir, shoving a bag into the back of the car into your lap. 

“Y/N, would you be a dear and hold this?” Lee smiled at Y/N, always being so sweet with her, even if he was out of breath. His smile dropped, however, the minute he turned towards Neal. “Go.” Lee demanded.

“Everything okay?” Neal questioned. 

“Just go.” Lee sighed, leaning heavily into the passenger seat. 

Y/N’s heart hurt for Lee. He was always under so much stress. Ever since his mother-in-law moved in, he had not been doing so well. He’d been a bit…wilder than usual. Always wanting to get into something scandalous or cause some sort of raucous to relieve his stress. Was it always the best solution? No. No it wasn’t. But, Y/N wasn’t going to deny Lee any sort of stress relief…even if it did mean they’d have to cover for him. 

-----------

Neal cleared his throat as the three of them continued their journey to wherever it was that they were going. 

“So, uh, was that woman your wife?” Neal asked, looking over at Lee nervously. 

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle slightly. 

Lee looked at him completely disgusted. “Don’t be asking me personal questions. We ain’t fuckin’ friends, okay? This is business.” Lee scoffed. 

“Leeee..” Y/N said quietly, leaning up slightly to rest their hand on Lee’s shoulder, “Breathe.” Y/N massaged his shoulder, trying to help him relax. 

Lee relaxed a little into Y/N’s touch, taking a deep breath. Y/N was really the only one to have this sort of effect on Lee. She could calm him in almost any and all situations unless he was really, really stressed. 

“Friends?” Neal laughed, “I am not trying to be your friend.” 

“Over here tryin’ to make a fuckin’ friend and we about to do a mission.” Lee scoffed, leaning back into Y/N’s touch even further. 

Neal looked between the two of them with a raised brow, “You’re the one trying to make friends the most.” Neal challenged. 

Lee sighed, slipping his sunglasses back onto his nose. “Just shut up, Gamby, god!” 

Y/N shook her head at the two of them, pulling her hand off of Lee to sit back once more. 

-----------

The group of them rolled to a stop in a very well-off looking neighborhood. 

“Who are we here for, Lee?” Y/N questioned, peering out the window of the car. 

“Dr. Brown’s deep, dark secrets.” Lee smiled mischievously, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Belinda?! Lee…honey, I need you to bring yourself back to earth for a moment. You know I support you in all that you do but this is a suicide mission, sweetheart.” Y/N told him sweetly, sighing a little. She knew this man was up to something scandalous. 

“Don’t start, Y/N. God, you both just really wanna piss on my parade, don’t you? Maybe you two should be fuckin’ butt buddies and I’ll do the work that fuckin’ matters.” Lee grumbled, getting out of the car. 

Y/N sighed, following after him while Neal awkwardly stayed in the car. 

“Lee, sweetheart, you know it’s not like that at all!” Y/N said, walking over to place a hand on his back, “Don’t get all grumpy with me like that, it hurts my feelings, doll.” Y/N frowned up at him. 

Lee scanned Y/N’s face with his famous sad puppy dog eyes before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Alright fine, fuck!” He exclaimed, looking down at his feet, “I’m sorry, okay? There I said it. Now, come help me take this dirty bitch to hell?” Lee looked at Y/N with a cute smile, batting his lashes at her. 

Y/N closed her eyes. “I’m gonna regret this..but fine. I’d do anything for you.” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. 

“Are you two weirdos finished? We’re running out of fucking time!” Neal grumbled as he stomped over to them. 

Lee rolled his eyes, grabbing Y/N’s hand to drag her towards Dr. Brown’s house. “Shut up, Gamby!” 

The three of them shortly arrived at Belinda’s house where Neal and Lee began digging their way through the woman’s garbage. 

“Ugh,” Y/N gave them a disgusted look, “Lee, I love you, but that is fucking repulsive.” 

“Oh, please, just pretend I’m digging in your ass, that’ll make the picture a whole lot prettier.” Lee winked at Y/N with a smirk.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, heat rapidly rising to her cheeks. “Lee fucking Russell, do not say that shit to me,” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, feeling sheepish. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it when I talk dirty to you, darlin’.” Lee’s smile grew as he took in her red appearance. 

“So..uh..I’m confused, are you two like..dating..or..?” Neal questioned, watching the pair with an expressionless face. 

“NO!” Y/N said much too quickly before steadying herself, “No, we’re just friends. Lee just doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up.” She grumbled. 

Lee placed an offended hand on his chest. “That no was a little too quick for my liking. What? Am I not good enough for you little miss honors English teacher? Huh? Not good enough for the little straight A, fuckin’ teacher of the goddamn year?!” Lee scoffed, his brows narrowed slightly. He looked genuinely hurt by her rushed response. 

“You’re fucking married, Lee!” Y/N yelled at him, eyes wide, “Why the fuck would I ever agree to someone asking if we’re dating, idiot?!” 

“Oh, don’t you start callin’ me fuckin’ names now, missy!” Lee pointed an accusing finger at her, scrunching his face up the way he does when he’s upset about something. 

“Right. Okay um, it seems like you two have a lot to work out and I really don’t care to hear the rest of this conversation because you’re both fucking stupid and I don’t care about either of you.” Neal ranted awkwardly before walking towards Belinda’s steps.

Y/N and Lee rolled their eyes at each other, following after Neal. 

“Oh..there’s no fucking way we’re breaking in here!” Y/N scolded, giving Lee a disapproving look. 

Lee shrugged, shooing Neal towards the door. 

Neal popped off his tie, wrapped it around his hand, and busted open one of the windows on the back door before sticking his hand through to pop the lock. 

“Jesus Christ,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh, “what are y’all getting me into?” 

“Oh shush.” Lee scolded, waltzing into Belinda’s house behind Neal. 

Y/N followed close behind. “Lee, we should not be doing this. You’re smarter than this.” 

Lee stopped and turned around to give her a cold gaze. “Am I, Y/N? Hm?” He challenged, walking towards her dangerously slow, “You don’t really know me all that well, do you?” He smirked, standing so close to her she could feel his breath fanning her face. 

Y/N gulped, trembling slightly as she peered up at him. “Stop it,” She said quietly, looking away from him, “You always fucking tease me and it’s not fucking fair, Lee, jesus.” She snapped, immediately turning and walking back out the door. 

Lee chased after her, grabbing her by her elbow. “Hey now. What's the matter with you?! Where the fuck are you going?” 

“Back to my fucking job, Lee. I am not doing this. Belinda hasn’t done shit to me. Look…I love you, Lee, I really do. You’re my best friend but this job is my fucking life. But you wouldn’t get that, would you? Because you’ve got fucking everything. You’re married, you’ve got a beautiful home, a nice car.” Y/N took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She was overwhelmed with her feelings. His teasing usually never bothered her but today...today was different for some reason. She just couldn't go through with this any longer. “I understand why you’re doing this..and I want to help you, Lee, believe me, I do. But I can’t lose this job.” Y/N finally looked up at him, almost taken aback by the sincere look on his face. 

“Go,” He said, softly, “I’ll meet you back at the school..okay? For lunch. Like always.” Lee held out his pinky. It was their tradition to link pinkies when making plans as a promise to not let each other down. 

Y/N nodded, curling her smaller pinky around his larger one. “Like always.” She pulled her hand away, starting her journey back to the school on foot. It wasn’t far, she wouldn’t have any trouble getting there but leaving Lee behind like that when he had been counting on her to help him really broke her heart. But she couldn’t lose this job. It was all she had that kept her connected to Lee and she’d be the first to go if anyone found out about this scheme. She couldn’t risk it - couldn’t risk her livelihood and her job. Lee was everything to her. Everything. Lee was and always will be her livelihood. 

-----------

Back at Belinda’s, Lee walked back into the house with a determined look on his face, now upset that his one and only friend bailed on him. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Neal said while scanning the wall of Belinda’s photos.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, Gamby?” Lee said pissily, narrowing his brows at him. 

“That girl loves you..and you’re just blind to it..I’m not good with women but you shouldn’t use her the way you do.” Neal shrugged. 

“Shut the fuck up, you ass face, you have no fucking idea what you’re even talkin’ about.” Lee scoffed, stomping off up the stairs of Belinda’s house. 

That couldn’t be right, could it? Could you really love him in that way? 

‘No,’ Lee thought, shaking his head, ‘There’s no way…right?’ 

Right? 

--

tag list: @one-of-thewalkingdead @itsyellow @ajeff855 @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @casiaregina @dried-mushroom @justme12200 @wtfwhyanyway @sequoiassoul @saturnbourne @ryankaylamartin96 @avidreadee123 @theweirdoneee @saltysultry @radskull-69 @deviantgamergirl @caligrl1992 @littlenosoul @sir-henry-may @spatialwave @danveration

[captainblou]

My Good Omens fanfiction Master Post!!

'Ello 'Ello 'Ello!!

Here's my pinned post for everything Good Omens I've written and wanted to share with this wonderful fandom!!

HUMAN AUs:

Drive me to the moon - rated E, 64K words

At GOMENS, world-renowned sports brand and sponsor, one takes pride in endorsing the UK’s most talented athletes. On the other hand, one would like to ignore the fact that their two top of the bill, Aziraphale and Crowley, have heartily hated each other since the day they met. But what should be expected, when one knows these two? Aziraphale is a professional dancer, Crowley a rally driver. While the former switches between fierce competitions and prestigious stages, the other goes from one track to another across the world, clearing out every prize from behind the wheel of his racing car. Two beings, two worlds, two universes that everything should keep apart. But an unprecedented charity event is getting set up at GOMENS, and quickly, their own athletes will have to compete with and assist each other in turns. Two worlds, two personalities. But if they want to run for a cause that matters to the both of them, Crowley and Aziraphale are going to have to find an Arrangement.

I'll tell you who's in charge - rated E, 30K words

Anthony Crowley will tell you who's in charge: it's him. He is the boss, and, like it or not, he acts the part. Well, that's until he meets his new secretary…

Thank you for the thorns - rated E, 53K words

There's a few things you should know about Anthony: first, only his dad calls him that, you can call him Crowley. Second, he owns the Queen of Thorns, the best flower shop of Mayfair. And third: he doesn't date. The first two points are unlikely to change, but the third? Maybe we should stick around to see how it goes…

You rock my world - rated E, 6k words.

Aziraphale is an authority in the world of music journalism, specializing in classical music, and West End musicals. He's not exactly happy when his boss send him to interview some rockstar he's never heard of, but he's in for a big surprise

CANON (sort of) Universe

The Resurrectionnists -rated E, 15k words

What if Aziraphale had said "Do it again" instead of "I forgive you"? - A short, smutty post S2.

Wait for me - rated T, 1286 words

Just a little scene inspired by this post by @fellshish

Longing & Angst shorts serie - 3 Works, rated E.

Ficlets from first person POV.

[booppooo]

I would like to request prompt 2, the reader's pronouns are gonna be she/her, and the whole plot of this oneshot is gonna be where Manny and Mel are on the supply run and Abby is left with reader in the car. They want to relieve themselves so reader eats Abby out in the car. Abby squirts a lot, please and thank you🥰

Gotta Make This Quick

AN: Ask and you shall receive....eventually.

Warnings: unestablished relationship, semi-public sex, lesbian sex, oral, squirting

Word Count: 1743

-

Third POV:

It was just another simple supply run, nothing special to it. Only this time Y/n had been assigned to tag along in lieu of Abby's favorite girl - Alice. An extra set of hands were always nice in this world considering every horrible possibility could happen at any moment. So the solider didn't mind seeing Y/n hop in that back seat with her, if anything she was looking forward to this supply run, however the other two passengers couldn't say the same.

Mel always tried to brush off the fact that she hated how much she made Abby smile - purely because she hated to see Abby so happy in the first place. "I don't have an opinion on her, she's just a good fighter," she'd shrug and turn her nose up. Manny (surprisingly) was on Mel's team in terms of Y/n as well. Though it brought him great joy to see Abby laugh and carry on, Y/n was Abby's greatest distraction and therefore there were a lot more mistakes made than there needed to be. They were a better duo when they were safe inside the stadium, but more of a disaster in terms of a combat. Needless to say, the job always got done and that's all that mattered at the end of the day.

The terrain was rocky and bumpy as always as Manny sped down what was left of the roads. He slowed to a stop at an old warehouse that had yet to be picked through since the Seraphites always patrolled it so heavily, but after finding out their schedule the WLF was able to find a time to squeeze in and sweep the place. And since that time window was so small, Mel urged the two giggling friends to stay behind and keep watch.

"What the hell Mel?" Abby protested while tugging on the door handle.

Mel stepped over to Y/n's window, "Stay here, we'll only be a few minutes."

"Yeah but you didn't have to lock - fuck." Abby scoffed and turned to her friend, "What if there's an emergency and they get ambushed?!"

Y/n slumped in her seat and rolled her head toward Abby, "Obviously they're betting on no one showing up. Just relax."

Abby rolled her eyes, "You're fucking kidding me right?"

"Couldn't be more serious babe."

And at that Abby's pretty freckled cheeks burned a soft crimson. Her mind fell fuzzy while her palms began to sweat against her rifle. She broke the tense eye contact and darted her gaze around the vehicle.

"They're... they're not doing this very smart." she continued, but Y/n had tuned it out and was completed infatuated with the way she had made Abby crumble.

Daringly she took a step further by inching closer and nonchalantly resting an palm over Abby's gorgeously massive thigh. It wasn't hard to miss the way the blonde's breath got caught in her throat - adorable. She lazily drew circles on the rough fabric and gazed up to Abby.

"You're so tense, what's got your panties in a bunch all the sudden?" Y/n teased and didn't bother to suppress the shit eating grin on her face.

Abby swallowed the spit pooling in her mouth. Though she was a blushing, sweating mess, she was absolutely loving every moment of this. Should she entertain it?

Abby softly shook her head and forced herself to stare out the window. This was surely just Y/n being her flirtatious, silly self.

Then her hand came up and squeezed softly on Abby's exposed bicep. It was like she was holding a flame against the hard muscle and lit Abby's entire body on fire. Her thighs pressed together and Y/n's nails dug into her pants. This was overwhelming in all the right ways, but Abby still wasn't sure her intentions.

Her warm breath fanned across the soldier's neck, "I know a thing or two about how to de-stress."

This woman who was known for being the strongest and sturdiest solider quickly felt her heart and mind melting at her friend's words. Just like a flip was switched and she completely folded over. Y/n was nearly foaming at the mouth; it was now or never.

With that she guided Abby's beautiful features to face her and they shared the most lustful kiss. Of course with the ticking time bomb Abby had been she soaked up every bit of touch Y/n offered her and found herself grabbing and feeling along her body. She had built her up and broke her down to the point where she was nearly feral. Abby loved the way she hated all the teasing.

Of course the strongest tried to settle her place over Y/n, but she wouldn't go down so quickly, after all it was Y/n's idea. She pulled away from the intense making out to smirk at her freckled companion and shove her shoulders down against the old leather seats. Again Abby's breathing failed her and left her abruptly while her heart hammered against her chest (not to mention the heat and slick accumulating in her pants).

But before the fun could continue Abby was struck with reality, "We're really gonna fuck here? What if someone sees?"

What a ridiculously question, Y/n thought.

"All the better."

Before Abby's rational could put up a resistance Y/n was earnestly working to remove Abby's cargo pants. Time was of the essence and both of them were well aware of that, but the desire swirling inside the car was just too overpowering to be ignored or interrupted.

The fighter laughed mockingly seeing the wet spot that had shamelessly formed on Abby's panties, "You're so fucking perfect." As expected the praise went straight to the blonde's core before even reaching her brain.

Y/n was ravenous and hasty in her approach. She nipped and licked and kissed all along those thighs she had dreamed to be between for an embarrassingly long time - it really was a dream come true. Then the underwear were ripped down her legs, thighs pressed open and against her strong torso, and Y/n's tongue went to work.

"Ah!" Abby cried out and smacked a hand over her mouth. All Y/n could do was laugh.

The goal: do whatever it took to make her cum as quickly as possible. Mel and Manny could be sprinting out those doors any second and there wouldn't be time to redress.

"Mmm fuck.." Y/n groaned and continued her ministrations.

Abby found herself trying not to shoot up to cloud nine, reaching and grabbing at whatever she could to give her a sense of reality. It was like she had the wind knocked out of her and each time Y/n's swirled her tongue deliciously over her clit a spell was casted on her. It was hopeless, Abby was hopeless, there was no way she was lasting very long.

And she didn't last very long, because in an instant that hot coil in Abby's abdomen snapped, her eyes rolled back into her head and she was crying into her hand. Y/n was elated when her lips, chin, neck, and chest were gushed on and drenched, in turn fueling her to work more fervently until Abby couldn't take it.

Those famous thighs began to tremble and Abby breathlessly begged Y/n to stop and tried squirmed away. How she wanted to continue to feast on her until she was an absolute mess of a person, but their circumstances were not in their favor and Abby was incredibly embarrassed at the fact she had squirted for her first time. Needless to say it was one of the most intense orgasms she had experienced to date but she never knew that would be the result.

Of course Y/n being the lady she was, cleaned up the mess she had made on Abby with her tongue, not missing a spot. The taste was unforgettable and her next mission was to get this wonder of a woman in her bunk. But for now they needed to get her dressed and Y/n's shirt changed.

Almost as if on cue, Y/n finished tugging a new shirt over her torso as Mel and Manny came darting from the warehouse, tossing the supplies in the trunk and throwing themselves into their seats.

"Everything okay?" Y/n wondered as Manny began to tear out of the scene.

"One of 'em saw us so we're leaving before we get ambushed. How were things out here?" Mel turned in her seat.

Abby instantly became flustered and her gaze retired to the window.

"Couldn't have been better." Y/n smirked.

[perpetual-stories]

A Complete Guide To Different Points of Views

happy Friday everyone! Is doing well, I know I’m trying to do better a bit every day.

it’s hard but I think I am doing better...

What Is Narrative Point of View?

Point of view is the “eye” or narrative voice through which you tell a story

you must decide who is telling the story, and to whom they are telling it

Three Types of Point of View

There are three primary types of point of view:

First person point of view. In first person point of view, one of the characters is narrating the story. This is generally revealed by the “I” sentence construction and relies on first person pronouns. (“I went to work.”) The reader assumes that this character is closely related to the story’s action—either a main character or someone close to the protagonist. First person narrative can provide intimacy and a deeper look into a character’s mind, but it is also limited by the perceptive abilities of the character. They are confined to report only what they would realistically know about the story, and they are further confined by their own perspective. Nick Carraway of The Great Gatsby (1925) by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ishmael of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick (1851) are two of the most well-known first person narrators in literature and great examples of this point of view

Second person point of view. Second person point of view is structured around the “you” pronoun, and is less common in novel-length work. (“You thought you could do it.”) Second person can allow you to draw your reader into the story and make them feel like they’re part of the action because the narrator is speaking directly to them. Writing in second person for any great length is a challenge, and will stretch your writing skills. Lorrie Moore is well-known for her innovative use of second person narration in her short story collection Self-Help (1985). Second person point of view is sometimes referred to as second person POV.

Third person point of view. The author is narrating a story about the characters and refers to them with the third person pronouns “he/she.” (“He was hungry.”) This point of view is subdivided into third person omniscient and third person limited. Third person point of view is sometimes referred to as third person POV.

What Is the Difference Between Third Person Omniscient and Third Person Limited?

omniscient narrator knows everything about the story and its characters

This third person narrator can enter anyone’s mind, move freely through time, and give the reader their own opinions and observations as well as those of the characters

think of the omniscient narrator as having a god’s-eye-view of the characters. (“He had been infected with the virus, but he didn’t know it yet.”)

third person limited point of view (often called a “close third”) is when an author sticks closely to one character but remains in third person

This style gives you the ability to be inside a character’s thoughts, feelings, and sensations, which can give readers a deeper experience of character and scene. (“As she watched him leave, she was afraid he’d never come back.”)

How to Choose the Right Point of View in 4 Easy Steps

Try different points of view. The only way to decide the best point of view strategy for your novel is to try different ones. Likely, you’ll know the right one for your story because the writing will begin to move more quickly, and you’ll feel momentum. First person allows you to create intimacy by granting the reader access to your character’s internal monologue. Second person is often made as a stylistic choice; it is a powerful yet potentially overwhelming narrative device that can evoke feelings of confusion or claustrophobia. Third person narrative is a more flexible choice than first or second person. It allows you to switch between characters’ points of view. You can even zoom in and out from complete omniscience to limited or “close” third point of view.

Once you pick a point of view, establish it right away. Whichever narration style you use, it’s important to establish your point of view quickly. Always let the reader know which character’s perspective you’re following in any given scene. If you’re using third person, you should use the character’s name early in the section. Even a simple statement like “Robert felt tired” is enough to convey this information. While you’re in a point of view, stick to it. For example, if you’re narrating from your hero character’s perspective and, in the middle of a scene, you suddenly switch to the point of view of a different character, the disruption will jar your reader out of the story.

Be aware of limitations. Point of view is an essential tool in character development. You’re describing the world through their eyes and letting the reader know what they think and feel. You’ll need to be aware at all times what your characters’ limitations are. Review your writing frequently to scan for mistakes you might have made in giving a character information or opinions they wouldn’t normally have.

Change it up. You don’t have to be tied to one point of view throughout your novel; some novels move from first to third or first to second. But it’s important to note that when you establish point of view, you are creating another type of contract with the reader: that you will adhere to that point of view for the course of the scene. It’s all right to have different subplots told from different points of view throughout your novel, but you should treat each point of view as an individual section or chapter.

Four Ways to Use Point of View

Create suspense. When a reader knows more than the character, as in Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897), and your reader waits for the character to learn what they already know. This tension will keep your reader on the edge of their seat.

Create an unreliable narrator. When a first person narrator knows more than the reader but withholds information from the reader on purpose, in order to manipulate them. Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn and Rebecca (1938) by Daphne du Maurier are brilliant examples of unreliable narrators.

Create comedic irony. When a first person narrator knows so much less than both the reader and the other characters that it creates comedy. In this strategy, the reader is laughing at the narrator, rather than with him or her. Examples include Gulliver in Gulliver’s Travels (1726) by Jonathan Swift, in which a plain-spoken narrator tells whoppers with a straight face, and A Confederacy of Dunces (1980) by John Kennedy Toole, in which the narrator complains about the ineptitude of other characters, when he is clearly the most inept character of all. An omniscient narrator can also satirize all a story’s characters, as Voltaire does in Candide (1759).

Create tragic irony. The characters know less than the reader. Narrative irony also involves foreshadowing, when the omniscient narrator leaves hints for the reader about something that will happen in the future. When a tragic event has been foreshadowed, but the characters don’t see it coming, a sense of irony is created. You can also create tragic irony in first person point of view, but you have to walk the fine line of having your narrator foreshadow while remaining truly ignorant of what’s going to happen.

There you have it everyone! Please like, comment and reblog if you find this helpful!

Tag me on Instagram at perpetualstories if you share it there!

Follow me on tumblr and Instagram for more writing and grammar tips and more!

[auramindedd]

Animal Crossing Boyf - SMAU*

Part 9

CorpseHusband x FemReader

Warnings: cussing

A/N: i won’t be able to update everyday, but ill try my best to be super frequent :) also, this part was SO good in the writing portion, but my alarm went off, kicked me out of tumblr, and then i accidentally pressed ‘delete draft’ instead of restoring. needless to say, i cried...

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Unfortunately, you have to change out of your hot ass outfit. You do still have your makeup on, and you look fucking gorgeous to say the least.

You throw on some comfy shorts, an oversized hoodie, and you take off your boots, leaving your black, thigh-high socks on.

You bring your knees up to your chest, letting your chin rest on them as you wait for Corpse to call.

You join the call when he starts it, getting your stuff ready for the stream.

“Whaddup, baby,” Corpse greets, and you can hear the cocky smirk in his voice, he knows what that does.

“Corpse, I can find someone else to play with me in the matter of two seconds.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“I really would,” You smile at him. Yeah, he can see you, but you can’t see him.

“I don’t think you should turn on your camera for today’s stream.” Corpse says.

“Why not?”

“How you look today should be reserved for me.” The cocky smirk hasn’t left. You can hear it so clearly in his voice.

You hide your face deeper between your knees, letting your hair fall in front of your face. Corpse chuckles, knowing the effect he has on you.

You quickly regain your posture, “I don’t look the same I did earlier. I changed my outfit.”

“I don’t know why you posted it on Twitter. That should’ve only been for me to see.”

You put on a cocky smirk of your own, “Newsflash, that could’ve been for someone else, you’re not the only one in the world, baby.”

Corpse feigns a dramatic gasp, and you giggle, shaking your head.

You greet your chat, Corpse greeting them as well.

You two are talking about everything, laughing so hard to the point where both of you are hitting your desks, complaining about how your guys’ stomachs hurt.

“No! You said, “Oh, well, I don’t know. None?” when Charlie asked you how many balls you have.” Tears are streaming down your face from how hard you’re laughing. Thank God for waterproof makeup.

“I was drunk!” Corpse defends himself in between laughs.

“Okay and? So was I! I said that I had three.”

You two sigh, calming down.

It’s been about three hours, and you both got pretty far into making your island. You say bye to the stream, getting out of Animal Crossing and putting away your switch.

“Do you have to go?” Corpse asks.

“We can’t sit here all night.”

“Y/N, we both don’t sleep.”

“I guess you have a point,” You sigh, “Okay, but call me through the phone, I wanna lay down.”

You turn your camera off as you go to wash your face and brush your teeth. Corpse complains about not being able to see you, claiming, ‘You’re beautiful all the time.’ The cold water doesn’t help at all to fix the redness on your face.

You leave your camera off, scared you might fall asleep on the phone. You tell Corpse to keep talking, his voice calming you down. You feel your eyes are getting heavy, and you can’t keep them open anymore.

Corpse’s POV but in third person

He notices her breathing is now even. Corpse smiles to himself, getting himself comfortable in his own bed, pulling the phone under his pillow, letting her company over the phone relax him.

He can’t help but think about the moments and laughs they shared today. This is probably the best stream he’s had in a while. He knows he’ll be spending tomorrow morning and night, looking through clips of them laughing, of her smiling, and whatnot.

She makes him so incredibly happy, and they’ve only met not that long ago. It’s crazy how much she’s affected his life, but in a good way. He’s able to be up in the morning, excited to stream if she’s going to be around, excited to go through his Twitter timeline.

Of course, he’s asked himself the question. He always goes back to the fact that he hasn’t known her long and it can’t be that he has feelings for her. She’s just an amazing and beautiful person; one that makes him so fucking happy.

He matches his breathing with Y/N’s, eventually falling asleep.

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[djmarinizelablog]

hi! read your last ask and you said that you took up creative writing classes so you might have a wider knowledge about this but i was wondering when u mentioned different writing styles (like minimalistic, hightened imagery, linear vilennete and all of that) could you maybe explain the difference and what they really mean and maybe examples in our own levihan nation and writers? this might be asking for too much but i was pretty lost and i'd like to know more about all that. however you are def free to ignore this too!

Did you just ask me to write a comprehensive poetics essay, Anon? (I love writing about writing lmao)

Super long post ahead, and I’ll be citing certain fanfics that I’ve read so far and those that I think somehow exemplifies all the different writing styles I mentioned in the previous post. 

First off, the ones I listed beforehand (minimalistic prose, heightened imagery, poetic language, linear narrative, non-linear vignettes) aren’t the only types of writing styles. There are more if you consider the variations of tone (humor/comedy, sentimental, macabre, noir etc), narration/perspective (first person, second person, third person omniscient/limited), and language (dialogue-heavy or action/scene-driven). And the nice thing is that you can actually use of one or two of them in your work---or all of them, if you’re feeling bold. 

As Hange always loves to do: “Let’s experiment!”

--------

I’ll start with minimalistic prose. It is what it is: short, clear, and concise. Think less is more. You have an economy with words where you disregard most adverbs and focus more on the context to make way for meaning, thus allowing the readers to create their own interpretations of your writing. I think the method here is to write your intended draft first, and then cut the unnecessary words to flesh out the scene even more.

Notice how @stereobone wrote this paragraph of Black Dog (an Eruri fic):

Isabel's voice wakes him, brother, brother, has him sitting upright in bed and grabbing for the knife under his mattress. He braces himself for the attack before he realizes there isn't one. There is nothing in the darkness but him and his heavy, panicked breathing. Levi's heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of his chest. He drops the knife on the mattress and shuts his eyes and tries not to think about Farlan's bloody resigned face before he was eaten. He tries not to think about how he left them. How it's his fault.

It’s very simplistic in language; the paragraph lets you focus on Levi’s innermost thoughts while he deals with an external action (ie, having nightmares). The author hasn’t unraveled the rest of the plot yet, but you already know where the tension is coming from.

Next is heightened imagery. If you’re familiar with the different figures of speech (metaphor, simile, personification, hyperbole, etc), then this is where they all come into play. I think the challenge here is being able to balance it well with the text itself and make sure that the imagery actually clarifies the context of the paragraph instead of convoluting the intended meaning. 

Here’s an excerpt from A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me:

Hanji watched Levi, standing there, head bent and bloodied handkerchief pressed against his arm, and was reminded, irrationally, of a night years ago. When her parents had taken her to the circus. [. . . .] Holding her parent’s hands, she’d gaped, head craned back as she watched the spectacle, a cacophonous mixture of sound and color. At the center of it all, she’d spied a boy. Among the twisting colors and tricks, he alone, was still. [. . . .] The boy was high above, balancing on a platform atop a long pole. In front of him, stretched an audaciously thin rope. Below, no net waited to catch him.

[. . . .]

When Levi looked up, his expression was set - like the boy before the tightrope. And she knew, with sinking certainty, he was going to take the step. Into thin air.

Gray eyes met her gaze and held it.

“Yeah. I’ll go.”

At the door, Kenny smiled.

See how the powerful imagery of the boy on the tightrope was able to fuel the tension in that moment among Levi, Hange, and Kenny? 

I think poetic language is akin to heightened imagery, except that the former is more focused on the actual language. It’s very lyrical, wherein you can actually hear the lulling song of the sentences in a rhythm. One of my favorite works that does this is Deep sea baby by @smallblip. Here she makes use of various setting and scenery to create this entire atmosphere of Levi and Hange’s relationship:

Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite.

The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together.

The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks.

One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away.

She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present.

"Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea.

He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

It’s hauntingly poetic, the way the author is able to connect the metaphor in “a river of words” to the actual body of water right in front of Levi and Hange. Good poetic language is able to tighten up the texts together while keeping the sentence structure flowing with apt figures of speech.

When it comes to narratives, it only comes down to linear or non-linear. See how @lostcauses-noregrets does her opening statement in Trains (also an Eruri fic):

Levi hates trains. To be fair, Levi hates all forms of public transport, but he reserves a particular loathing for trains. They’re dirty, noisy, smelly and worse, filled with people. People who, heaven forbid, might attempt to speak to Levi, engage him in conversation. Levi’s worst nightmare is being stuck on a train with some friendly fuck who wants to pass the time making small talk. Admittedly it’s not a problem he has to deal with too often, his general fuck off demeanour deters all but the most aggressively friendly and hopelessly inebriated. But that doesn’t stop Levi from hating trains.

It’s a short fic and it’s very dependent on the linearity of events happening. But with that banger of a first sentence, the beginning already gives you enough of an idea of Levi’s pet peeve in the story, which in this case, is trains.

Here’s another hot and steamy fic called keep him waiting by keobuns that shows a linear narrative: 

He’s sitting with them in the back of the lab, nursing a cup of tea — it’s still pretty full, and even cold now, for he was far too distracted listening to Hanji talk to properly drink — when he sees it. Hanji’s too preoccupied with overexplaining the same Titan experiment they’ve gone over a hundred times to notice his stare. They just continue on and on and on, gesturing with their hands, pointing with their fingers, flexing their wrists…

Ah. Levi has to bring his teacup to his lips to hide the way his lips tremble. Hanji has incredibly nice hands.

The entire story just revolves around Levi simping for Hange’s hands and how it all goes down from there. But you as a reader are kept wanting more with every paragraph and every sentence that the author constructs (and trust me, it’s not just the sexual tension between Levi and Hange that keeps us going).

Now, as much as I love the straightforwardness of linear prose, non-linear writing brings a different round of ideas onto the table. It can create recollections from flashbacks, heighten the perspective or interior turmoil of a character due to trauma or grief, or even just re-invent what-if scenes that the characters have imagined themselves. 

Gnossiene by @thatalmondgirl​ is one of my all-time favorite Rivetra fics. In this excerpt, you will see how she switches between the past and the present, and how it affects Petra’s POV as a conflicted character:

Contrary to popular belief (fuck Auruo) Petra actually didn’t cry easily.

Alright, she could admit that at some times, she was...emotional. It was far from a weakness, but even she could admit that they sometimes got in the way and walled off all rational thought. Anger, frustration, sadness, hell, even happiness. The only one she could easily compartmentalise away was fear, which probably stemmed from her military career. Even so. It was never easy to separate all the others from her actions, think from a clean slate like the Commander could do, like the captain. [. . . ] Petra groaned, splayed out across her bed. She drew her arm across her eyes, willing the tears to go away. She’d already blown through her tissue box.

“Petra, a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” Mama sat on the end of her bed, with Petra on the floor between her legs. Even though Petra argued firmly that she was old enough to brush her own hair, Mama had insisted. Unfortunately, Petra wasn’t old enough - and probably never would be - to disagree with her mother.

“I know, Mama.” Petra grumbled.

“I don’t think you do. Else you wouldn’t be crying, would you?”

[. . . .]

“But a man shouldn’t complete you when you complete yourself. Maybe he’s an extension to your house. So you’ll be sad if the extension is compromised or burns down. But you still have the main house. And if it’s strong, the main house can still be standing even after the worst storm.”

Aside from Mama’s crazy metaphors that sometimes didn’t make sense, her message hit home. Even if it hit home years later.

See how it switched in between the before and after? 

An off-shoot of non-linear writing are vignettes (a layering of scenes separated by section breaks) wherein this writing style allows writers to curate scenes in terms of fragments, creating some kind of mosaic for the readers once they finally see the big picture. Nakimochiku’s I’m leaving, are you coming with me? stacks up scenes of interactions between Levi and Hange, enough to depict the kind of relationship that they have as young lovers in a school setting. You can string these fragments together, rearrange them in a different order, but in the end, you will still get the author's clear goal of highlighting how Levi and Hange’s relationship develops over time.

Those are the styles that I mentioned in my previous posts, but as I’ve told you, there’s more to writing than those, so I’ll give a short run-through of other methods in writing. 

Whether it’s dialogue-heavy works such as from my window to yours, or action-driven scenes like Carnivores (a Levi x Reader fic by CaptainDegenerate) that propel the story forward, we as readers should be able to follow through the actual storyline that the authors intend to take us. 

A third-person limited (we listen to Hange’s thoughts in Clockwork by @tundrainafrica) vis-à-vis an all-knowing/omniscient narration (the moon is dark by @sayonarasanity alternates the perspective of Levi and Hange) should be able to make us understand why the author chose this particular kind of point-of-view in order to tell the story. 

And lastly, having a solid and consistent tone throughout the work (the macabre of Even Humanity’s Strongest could make mistakes by Rimeko versus the sweet sentimentality of Flowers for You by @fanmoose12) should be able to set the atmosphere that the authors want us to imbibe as we read through their works. 

So there’s your crash course on writing and reading. Enjoy? :) 

[fandom-sheep]

MCC 18 SEP 21

Yellow Yacks and Cyan Coyotes with a little Aqua Axolotls. Part 1/1

The only reason I didn’t forget MCC was because I got the notification for Eret.

I have Wilbur on my TV. I’m going to watch Eret on my phone. And I’ll have Tommy on my iPad probably.

Wilbur throwing a tantrum and saying he won’t play.

I feel like a true Gen Z member with my multiple screens of minecraft.

I’m only just getting the Wilbur notification.

I love watching everyone run around before MCC and scale things.

Griefing the thumbnail. 😂

Wilbur just causes problems on purpose when it comes to group photos doesn’t he.

He just loves finding ways to cause problems.

Wilbur got a coconut!?!

I didn’t mean to type the question mark originally. But I am a bit confused.

Wilbur just stocking up on coconuts

True friendship is a quote book. I have several.

Baby banana boo.

Wait. I heard the word tumblr

Scott what did you do with tumblr?

I’m scared. Only Eret permitted on tumblr.

I remember watching hole in the wall as a tv show as a kid.

Wilbur’s glasses that don’t do anything.

There are September discounts for subbing?

Neato.

The conversations in my work discord are something else.

Not surprised that Wilbur is going for top swearer of MCC

But my residents are going to walk by my door and judge me.

Alright I apparently wasn’t signed in to twitch on my iPad and it took me entirely too long to learn to remember it.

Tommy looks like he’s really concentrating. Oh wait never mind.

Wow the yaks are in first currently. I might be cheering for a winning team for once.

Alright I have my iPad split screen between Tommy and the MCC website.

Everyone break the elevator!

In the game, not in the building I work. I don’t want that paperwork.

Stick together and place many block.

I’ve been in Wilburs position. “I’ll be captain” “yeah let’s let Wilbur be captain”

Not a single POV I have up is synced. But that’s life.

Oh not starting out strong.

Just keep going. Ignore the falling people just like ranboo last time.

We are at the absolute bottom for this game.

Where’s a bag of popcorn or something?

“Stay down there. That’s how I won that one time” -Ranboo

Down they go.

They didn’t have anywhere to run.

Second round!

Oh that wasn’t their best idea. It was fun seeing Erets POV of that.

Go Teams.

Turning down the volume on yellow yacks to listen to aqua axolotls.

Aqua please. You have so much potential.

Nope.

Switching audio again.

Yellow back at the bottom.

Ranboo ranboo ranboo ranboo

Down he goes. 😂 the timing of that was funny.

Please. Don’t die

Wilbur. Scott. Please.

Scott uncovering the creeper.

Their plan is literally just sit and be.

To be fair that’s my plan for everything I do.

Oh cobwebs are smart.

I’m eating very salty Chick-fil-A chips and need water.

We are still doing ok. Wow.

Cobwebs man. The real MVP.

They are still in 10th

COBWEBS!!! And Wilbur standing on the edge of a block.

THEY WON THAT?!?!!!!

It moved them from last to eight. But still. Wow.

Holy cow. How did that happen.

I always forget what the acronym game is.

Oh yeah. Wilbur snuck and found this. I remember.

Go team!

Oh the website updates faster than the game. But we’re starting off decent.

I’m going to have to take back that statement aren’t I?

Go go go go

Fly fly fly fly

Build build build build

Go Wilbur!

Rafter strat.

Wilbur found the rafters and everyone else loved it.

Blocking his own jump. 😂

I really should do the inside joke chair emoji thing for laughing. But I don’t care.

Tiktok is nice. Depends on the side you are on, but it’s nice.

We are doing halfway decent. I’m proud of us.

Wilbur is struggling and I think he might cry.

Not bad. I don’t think.

Power sweater.

This game in MCC has rainbow road vibes

I’ll have to make that it’s own post since I feel that’ll be popular ish.

Holy cow we hit first on the website!! How?

Ranboo sweet one.

They said no peaking to Wilbur.

Wilbur making them block stuff off and the like is so funny.

Run yaks run!

I missed the moment Wilbur just mentioned. Oh well I’m sure I’ll see the clip.

First last first.

Hey 4th overall. Look at em.

Wilbur switching to full screen to show us his M&Ms.

Let me balance my water bottle on the bedpost above my head. No way this could possibly go wrong in multiple ways.

Double coins. Gorgeous.

Chickens are being sniped.

What’s going to work? TEAM WORK!

I don’t think I have ever watched a game of grid runners in my life?

Alright game should start any second because it started on the website.

Alright stream is delayed about 13 seconds.

Go teams go!

Wilbur just sniping targets.

We’re doing ok.

All this dirt.

Go go go

We’re completing things first.

Cake!

Wilbur got in!

Now they eat

Oh but they are falling.

Oh wow the painting is complicated. My friends and I would fail to communicate so fast.

Is this lever thing just find the button but complicated?

Go you got the levers!

Items grab!

My friends and I would seriously struggle unless I was allowed the lead. But I would lead us off a cliff.

Everyone get ready to go in as soon as the cake is done.

Exit! You guys are so close! Please!

Woohoo!

Go Ranboo! Go Scott!

Come on guys. Come on. Good communication.

I think I like watching Wilbur with MCC because he had a similar strategy to what I would do.

Wilbur why did you try to act cool!!!

They keep saying they are miles ahead but not according to that scoreboard.

You placed 3rd. Good job y’all.

I’m excited for bonuses.

They have another minute until the others run out of time.

Good soup.

Oh wow. Ranboo and Wilbur really are always totgehe.

We are doing well. I see the board changing on the website so much.

Where will they land.

Looks like 2nd or 3rd

Fourth overall. Not bad.

Lap time is logical.

Audience vote?

Look at me redownloading twitter.

Can you not see how others have voted on twitter?

Oh there it is. It only showed mine for a sec there.

Battle box looks close. I voted ace race.

Oh it all looks close right now.

Long break my beloved.

I don’t have time to start my laundry but still. My beloved.

Game 5/8 so MCC won’t be too much longer.

I look up and Wilbur is shaking his ass at George. I’m not surprised.

Phil and Sneeg judging Wilbur.

Wilbur twerking on Phil and Sneeg joining.

Poor Phil.

Wilbur just having visited so many random places with so many random words just gathered.

Oh wow parkour tag is low. But so is sands.

Oh wow it was a tie. Between Sands and Parkour

“Wilbur is Sand Daddy” -Scott and then all the agreement noises.

Sands of Time is my favorite practical game

Maybe because Wilbur is really good at it. And Ranboo had been trained by him.

This is just good.

I swear Sand daddy is going to kill me during this.

I am just going to pass away.

My stream delay though.

Wilbur who says he stays very quiet as he makes circus music noises.

Minecraft Rhinos. Because I can’t spell their real name.

I don’t quite understand sand of time. But I like watching. It’s like college football.

I am missing the only college football game I care about for MCC.

Go Team.

No blue yet.

All the mobs.

“You better not die” sung to the tune of Santa clause is coming yo town. -Wilbur

Keep it up guys.

Oh no. They lost the key.

Oh good they found the key.

You can tell Wilbur had a musicians brain. He just hears something vaguely lyrical and starts singing a song.

Gotta promote your band whenever you can I guess.

I listened to the last Ep for like an hour and a half yesterday while I went about my day.

I wonder how we’re doing?

Only a few seconds.

I could warm a heating pad in the amount fo time they have left.

Ranboo doing these puzzles so amazingly.

Quit caring about what others think. Just do your thing.

I swear the sand daddy thing.

I love the cage of shame for not tracking your sand.

I zoned out. Red cyan orange?

We’re almost 15 minutes into sands.

I want to play Minecraft on my iPad right now.

Wait the website updated. We were 6th?

Yikes. I thought they did better.

3rd overall though!

Wait what was that about most influential improv thingy? Good for them.

Build mart!

Oh Ace Race. Wilbur calling Ace Race his girlfriend now.

I want to see the enemies to lovers fan fictions of Ace race and Wilbur.

Oh wait I can do that. I can verbally tell one like I have others in the past.

I’m excited to watch this.

Wilbur flirt with the race.

I’m not mentally prepared for this.

Everyone just joined because they don’t want to miss Wilbur x Ace Race.

Oh no. He’s not doing so well.

Oh Wilbur is giving us more.

Complicated history…

Whispering to Ace Race and Solidarity.

You’ve got it Wilbur.

Keep on talking. Keep your brain busy while you play.

Mommmm Wilbur is flirting with Ace Race again!

He’s whispering though so I can’t quite hear it and will have to find a clip channel that added subtitles.

Oh teams are changing on the website.

“What are you doing in my women Philza?” -Wilbur

“I will end your bloodline which is canonically also me.” -Wilbur

I can not track all the quotes from this. That’s beyond my abilities.

Wilbur did halfway decent, but it still uncomfortable.

Ace Race is a person now. Also the fact that Wilbur compliments Ace Race so much.

Sally v. Ace Race.

I want to find that fanart now.

Scott honey. Confirmed cannon is everyone fancies the fish.

4th. Not bad.

We’re still talking Ace Race x Wilbur

Build mart! My dearest buildmart!

I miss them sliding around in the sleds.

Grab da flowers!

We’re in 1st at the minute.

Come on yaks!

No coyotes!

Hurry hurry hurry.

Work discord going it’s thing again.

Oh we’re dropping fast.

Move the redstone! Thank you

Alright back on top. Keep it up.

Nevermind.

I love the way the build spaces for the different teams work.

Who is the person on the build?

Oh first again? Nevermind.

Oh we popped up to second. We’re so behind. Come on.

Duck!

Good soup energy. Now all I can think is the bi wide energy song.

Time is running out.

Yeah we aren’t catching up to first. Just hold second.

Where is granite?

Game over.

Third overall now. Not bad. Last game time they can possibly pull it into dodge bolt.

I need to go get a picture with the President of the university for a game with my work.

Good Soup.

I’m sitting here making popcat noises while waiting.

Game time! Go team! Survive!

Wait where did the steamer go? I wasn’t paying attention.

He’s back.

He’s swearing for his points on the swearing list.

Is pee a soup? No. I don’t think it’s think enough under normal circumstances.

Karl is apparently swearing according to Twitter. Good for him. He deserves to swear some as a treat.

Everyone running and leaving shubble.

Oh good they are all together.

Just keep running.

4th so far.

Cars. Beep beep.

Ranboo breath child.

Calling Wilbur like some kind of golden retriever.

Bow boy

Scott is leader now. Because otherwise they are arguing.

We are playing the don’t die strategy.

Come on team.

Did I put my cut in this post? I did.

Ranboo having stolen the airdrop. And he has a thing!

Oh the boarder is right behind them.

They are fighting Dream?

Nice Will.

We’re in fourth.

Boarder is right there.

Sapnap? Nope.

Pink attack and they book it.

Oh no. There goes Wilbur.

Is it just Scott?

Scott vs the world.

Just Organe and pink. They came third.

GO ORANGE!

Please. Please let us do it.

Overall third. Pink overtook yellow.

Sadness.

Ranboo has achieved: Found Hated Game

Ranboo has been hit by Survival games so many times now.

If they had just lasted a tiny bit longer they would have come second.

Cheering Orange I suppose.

I have no skill at picking winner POVs.

I have 3 teams I was at least kinda watching. And none of them are in dodgebolt.

Gosh can hear Ranboo tweaking.

Wow. Yellow yaks just as a team twerking.

What is Wilbur chewing on? Wilbur don’t chew on things that probably aren’t meant to be chewed on.

I can hear the band outside of my window. I think my campuses football game is starting.

The drum line practiced outside my window all the beginning of the semester so it’s fun seeing them march to the stadium.

Oh and there are the cheerleaders.

Oh right I was watching MCC! Who’s winning?

Come on Orange. So close.

Wait I looked out my window. Why is the band walking back to where they were?

Along the sidewalk?

I thought it was game time for a minute.

Oh dodgebolt could go either way.

Distracted by Jesus.

Grian! You got this!

Nice Grian.

Oh Grian has a chance!

Oh!

Oh!

It’s so close!

Ooo ooo!

I’m so invested.

I SEE THE CONFETTI IN THE SITE! But I don’t want to miss the shot.

Come on Grian.

I know you do it. But you’ve got this

YESSSSS

Woo hoo!!

That was a good MCC. Now to do the chores and homework I originally planned to do today.

That was a nice stream.

Scott is separating Ranboo and Wilbur?

Please. Scott.

Don’t separate the beings.

You know. Twitter needs to politely bully Scott into keeping Ranboo and Will together.

Oop and that’s Wilbur done. That was fun.

See y’all next time!

[dreams-got-dimmer]

New Girl Pt. 2 (Bolin x reader)

Okay here’s the thing I haven’t seen enough steamy Bolin fanfics yet and while I would rather be reading them, I thought maybe I’ll just write one and help out the others who desperately want to read about their fav thicc earth bender.

Summary: multiple part fic?? + AU kind of

(The reader is 18, Bolin is 18 and mako is 20)

Reader desperately needs a place to live and finds an advertisement for two brothers who need a roommate. Maybe more than just living arrangements may come out of this deal... (reader x Bolin) (slow burn)

Disclaimer: I’m changing the story from first person to second as it would make more sense to the reader. If I ever plan on doing POV for Bolin, which I want to it will be in third person. I know it’s a switch up, but I think the story will flow nicer using second and third opposed to using first

Word count: 2399

Warnings: slight angst?

PART 1 PART 3

“so uh, yeah, this is your room,” Bolin rubbed the back of his neck, “I know it’s not much, but hey it’s something right?” he started to fidget on the balls of his feet.

“So bashful, now are we?” you couldn’t help but notice Bolin’s nervousness now that you two were alone. Mako was only on his break when you had arrived and had to get back to work so he left Bolin to show you where everything was in the loft, especially your room. Red heat started to seep into Bolin’s cheeks at your words. As much as you wouldn’t have minded teasing him more you decided to save him the embarrassment.

“I’m just joking,” a small laugh escaped your lips, “I know how hard it can be to meet someone new, especially when you end up alone together,” started to walk around your new room taking in everything it had to offer, which wasn’t much. But that was the best part about it. It was simple and you could make it your own in no time. The poster wasn’t lying when it said the loft had a view of Air Temple Island. Even being a fire bender, watching the wave push and pull was always calming to you. You could see yourself spending hours just drinking in the sounds of the ocean. You turned back to Bolin and smiled, “You seem pretty outgoing, but I can understand how it can be easier to meet new people when your brother is around,” saying that reminded you of all the times you’ve been on your own meeting new people. Sure, it was going just fine now, but it hasn’t always been this way.

“Y-yeah of course, definitely because my brothers not around, heh,” Bolin went back to rubbing his neck. He didn’t do a great job at assuring you that his brothers’ absence was why he was nervous, but you weren’t going to pry. “Anyway, how do you like the loft. I hope it becomes your home as much as it became mine and Mako’s,” The warmth in Bolin’s cheeks finally started to fade as he smiled at you, “It’s better that I could have ever dreamed of,” you admitted. Your parents house was nothing too extravagant, but it was able to hold you and your family somewhat comfortably. The shelter did it’s best to be welcoming and you couldn’t be more grateful to have a warm place to stay, but it couldn’t beat what you were looking at now. Thinking of the shelter reminded you that there were still items of yours at the shelter. It wasn’t much, but you still didn’t want to leave them behind.

“Do you want to come with me to the shelter so I can pick up the rest of my things?” you changed the subject. Bolin seemed nice, but you weren’t too sure how willing he would be to help you with your things, “I would love to go!” he nearly shouted it, “Then you can tell me more about yourself and I can show you my favorite restaurant,” He broke out into the same smile you saw earlier when Mako agreed that you could move in. It was genuine and precious, and it made your stomach tie in a knot.

Bolin might singlehandedly be the sweetest and goofiest person you had ever met. He insisted on going out to eat first and as you both walked and made it his mission to keep you laughing. The nerves he had before were practically non-existent now. He told you all about pro-bending and even though you’ve been to matches and knew the rules you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything because of how enthused he was to talk to you about it. He even promised to bring you to practice and matches. And even though he was an earth bender he wanted to show you moves you could use in a match and maybe he could even get Mako to show you something too. You happily agreed to everything Bolin offered because 1. It did seem really fun and 2. You couldn’t wait to show Bolin what you were actually capable of with your bending. It’s not like he was trying to be rude, but maybe Bolin assumed you didn’t know how to do much since your parents restricted it. The thing is strict parents cause sneaky kids and you were the sneakiest of them all. You had been sneaking out since the young age of eight and you had learned a lot more than anybody even knew. So, maybe it was a good thing that your parents were that way. If they weren’t you may have never had the knowledge of bending that you have now.

Even though you were going to pick up your things the day was starting to feel like a date. Bolin had brought you to Narook’s, which he happily told you had the best noodles in all of Republic City then proceeded to eat three bowls to himself. You were beside yourself that you had never gone here before. Bolin wasn’t joking that these were the best noodles in all of Republic City and you almost wanted to get mad at him because he just introduced you to your newest money pit. It would be so worth it, though. Especially if you got to have days like this with Bolin. He even refused to let you pay no matter how hard you tried to get the waiter to take your money. If it was a date, you wouldn’t have been angry in the slightest. He was charming you by the second and the way his eyes would shift from jade to emerald within seconds did nothing to stop you from being lost in everything that Bolin was.

The sugary sweet feeling you had in your chest soon turned sour. The feeling wasn’t even caused by the two of you facing the shelter it was what Bolin said that made your insides curdle and all the happiness of the day went numb.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to Korra! She’s the avatar and everything about her is amazing,” he looked at you with lovesick eyes and it made you wish that you were Korra, “She’s beautiful and talented and she’s even on the Fire Ferrets with me and Mako,” a blush crept back onto Bolin’s face and you wanted more than anything that it was you who was making him blush. You wanted to slap yourself in the face for thinking this way. You just met him. He wasn’t anything to you. You tried not to think about how he himself helped you have the best day you’ve had in years, maybe in your life. You’ve been with guys, but none of them have ever made you feel this happy, especially within the first hours of meeting and you and Bolin hadn’t even kissed. You weren’t about to let some boy you just met control your emotions like this, even if he was impossibly adorable.

“I’m thinking of asking her out. I’m just so nervous,” Bolin confessed as he began rubbing the back of his neck, which was oddly attractive by the way. No, stop you can’t keep thinking like that. You tried your best to shake away any thoughts of jealously and the minute attraction you had for the earth bender, “you’re a girl, what would be the ideal date for you?” He pleaded as his lip jutted out into a pout. You gulped. If it wasn’t bad enough that you misread this day so far, this day was the best answer you could give him. Scraping together every ounce of courage you had, you decided to be honest, “My ideal date,” you pretended to muse even though you didn’t even have to utter a single thought to know what it would be, “Honestly just do what you did today and I’m positive she’ll love it,” you breathed out as Bolin’s eyes widen. That was enough honesty for the day. You looked away from him quickly trying to ignore his lips parting.

“We should go get my stuff now,” you shrugged, “There’s not much anyway, so it should be easy,” you didn’t wait for his answer as you rushed into the shelter. Bolin trailed in moments after you and you kept your head down not wanting to talk to him yet. Maybe you just ruined whatever friendship you had with Bolin by telling him the truth. Your thoughts came to a halt as you crashed into something, actually someone.

“Spirits I’m sorry,” you sputtered looking up. You eased when you saw it was just Anzu one of the volunteers at the shelter. Not only that, she also had become one of your close friends during this month stay. The two of you were complete opposites and it was hard to understand how the two of you clicked so well. She was everything you weren’t.  She was perfection and grace. Anzu embodied everything that was ethereal. She was golden and her strawberry blonde hair flowed in a way that made it seem like she was underwater. Anzu grabbed your arms to steady the two of you and began to smile.

“Always so clumsy,” Her laugh tinkled in your ears, “and who is this?” curiosity lined her voice as her eyes shifted to look at Bolin.

“shut it Anzu I am not,” you grumbled crossing your arms, “And this is Bolin he’s my new roommate along with his brother Mako,” happiness spread through you again, “Bolin this is Anzu she’s my best friend, but she also volunteers here,” You motioned between the two and Bolin waved enthusiastically. “No way!” Anzu exclaimed, “You found a place to stay?!” She grabbed a hold of you nearly shaking you, “I’m so so so happy for you. I’m going to miss you, though,” She frowned a bit pulling me into a hug, “Please visit all the time, how am I going to stay sane without you?” you pulled away from each other.

It was a bittersweet feeling because Anzu was right. She had made staying at the shelter bearable and not only that, she had gotten you out trouble too many times to count. She’s even responsible for you being able to stay at the shelter even though you burnt part of the living quarters down out of anger and frustration when you first showed up.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to survive, but I’ll make sure to visit as often as I can,” you assured her.

You both hugged again not really wanting the moment to end, “I’ll let you two get your things, It was nice meeting you Bolin, I hope to see more of you soon,” Anzu breathed out as she glided away down the hall.

You started down the hall thinking about how much you were actually going to miss not seeing Anzu every day. “what happened here?” Bolin stood wide eyed as you approached your room and you didn’t even have to look at what it was, “I did that,” you muttered, glancing at the burnt hallway. Your parents had the audacity to show up at the shelter after a week of staying there. They had more to say about what a horrible monster you were. How they wished you were never born. It was a disgrace to them that a bender was born into their family. The staff was kind enough to force them out of the building, but it only did so much to aid your already broken heart. That interaction was the last straw for you and it precedented the substantial breakdown that caused the burning of half of the bedrooms. No would could get close to you no even Anzu. You had no idea what to feel. It was too much the hate, frustration, and brokenness of it all. It caught up to you and the only outlet you could use was destruction. The next day you apologized profusely to everyone at the shelter and promised that once you started making steady money you would help pay to rebuild that section of the quarters.

“You,” he paused, “Did that?” Bolin was in utter disbelief. You were desensitized to the area having to look at it for the past weeks, his words made you look at it with fresh eyes. There was no denying that it was a gruesome sight. Most of the walls were charred through and there were tarps to keep the outside elements from getting in. All the furniture was pretty much disintegrated and looking at it too long just made your stomach sick, “can we just get my things?” you pleaded feeling small, “I don’t really want to talk about it,”.  You pushed your door open and before you could take a look for the last time at the place you had been staying, Bolin pulled you into a hug. He bowed his head into the crook of your neck and let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry for whatever happened,” He drew back and looked at you earnestly, “Me too,” his hug felt like warmth and hot tea on a bad day. He was surprisingly gentle for how muscled he was and even if you didn’t want it to end you plastered a smile on your face, “Let’s get my things so we can get the hell out of here,” You motioned towards you room. It didn’t take long to gather your extra clothes and odds and ends and before you knew it you were spending your first night in the loft. You looked out at the ocean and let the sounds of the tide help you mull over what happened during the day. You were able to close a chapter in your life that you didn’t think was going to end and as for Bolin he was your roommate and hopefully friend and you weren’t going to jeopardize that just because there was some semblance of attraction for him. Besides, he seemed to really like Korra and that’s what mattered, not the inconsequential feelings you might have for Bolin. You were sure you’d wake up in the morning and the tiny crush would dissipate, for you had bigger things to worry about, like finding a job and actually making friends with Bolin and Mako instead of pining over them.

-------

a/n: wow guys I'm amazed at myself that I have written this much. But if you have made it this far thank you! I wanted to do a slow burn for this fic and it’s actually a lot harder than I thought, but I am trying my best. I’ve never really wrote fiction before so if you guys have any advice on how to improve my writing, please let me know! again thank you so much for reading this far (: I hope to see you again soon 

-S

Taglist:

​ @yellowoctvber @doubtedbus409

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

The Dare

A/N: I am so sorry I am so bad at slowburn. Also Katharine is kind of a jerk in this one. 

JACK’S POV:

“Race, truth or dare?” He considers for a moment. “Truth.”  Davey searches his brain for a good dare. “Favorite flavor of ice cream?” Everyone at the table groans. “They’re supposed to be scandalous questions, Davey!” Albert laughs. “I don’t know what to ask! Um. Are you a top or a bottom?”

“That’s more like it. And for your information, I am a switch.” He winks at his boyfriend Spot. Spot rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Jack’s turn. Jack, truth or dare?” I immediately say dare. These boys already know pretty much everything about me. I’d like to keep the few secrets I have secret.

Race glances around the room. He gets a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ask her out on a date.” He points to a girl across the room. She’s reading a book titled ‘The rise and Fall of Germany, ww1 and ww2′. It looks like it weighs as much as Spot.

“That’s Alex Kaminski. Every single guy who’s asked her on a date has been rejected. If you can get her to say yes, I’ll pay for your lunch.” I look down at my empty plate. “I already ate it.” 

“I’ll pay for your next lunch.”

Satisfied with the bet, I get up. Asking out a girl is no problem. I’m the flirting extraordinarie. I make my way over to her table and sit across from her. I put on my flirtiest smile. “Hey.” She peeks over her book. “Can I help you?” 

“Yeah. I lost my phone number, so I was hoping I could get yours.” She blinks slowly. “That was one of the worst pick up lines I have ever heard.” She closes her book. I finally get a good look at her face. She’s actually really cute. 

She has brown hair tied back in a bun. Her green eyes are bright, staring at me with an emotion I can’t quite identify. Freckles dot her nose. I half expected her to be the stereotypical nerd, braces, zits, that kind of thing. I was very wrong. 

“You’re Jack Kelly, right?” I nod my head. “How can I help you, Jack Kelly? Do you need a report written? Or a tutor to help bring up your grades?” 

“As tempting as those offers are, I’m actually here to ask you out on a date.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “A date?”

“Mhm. I’ll pick you up at eight-”

“Hold on, Romeo. I didn’t say yes.”

“Are you going to say no?”

She thinks for a moment. “Usually I would. But something about you intrigues me. Pick me up at eight. Here’s my phone number.” 

She slides a piece of paper across the table. Then she goes right back to her book. I take the hint and get up, walking back to my table. They all look at me expectantly. I place the number on the table. Race’s eyes widen. “She actually said yes? I was counting on her embarrassing you in front of everyone!”

“Thanks, Race. And she did in fact say yes. I’m picking her up at eight.”

“Don’t you guys think this is kind of mean?” Davey chimes in. 

“Aw, it’s just a date. Not like it’ll get serious or anything.”

Alex is waiting out front when I arrive. I wave. She climbs into the passenger seat. “Good afternoon, milady.” I look at the clock. “Or good night? I don’t know. Anyways, hello.” 

“Hi. So, where are we going on this date?”

“I was thinking we could grab some pizza at Jacobis.”

She nods in approval and switches on the radio. An up beat pop song comes on, and she starts to sing along. She has a good voice. I hum along under my breath. She starts swaying to the music, and I join her. Soon the two of us are full on rocking out. The song ends and we both start laughing.

We pull up to Jacobi’s and park. I hold the door for her like a gentleman. We grab a table in the corner.  A waiter comes over for our orders. “I’ll take a slice of pineapple and an orange soda, please.” Alex raises an eyebrow. “Pineapple?”

“Before you say anything, it’s delicious.” 

“I’m not judging. I was actually going to get the same thing. Make that two slices of pineapple, an orange soda, and a lemonade.”

The waiter scribbles it down and rushes off. Alex crosses her arms on the table. “So. You like pineapple too.” 

“Yup. And Race says that makes me the spawn of satan. Honestly, I take that as a compliment.” 

“Fun fact, Hawaiian pizza was actually created in Canada.”

“My whole life is a lie.” I dramatically place a hand to my forehead.

The conversation flows easily, like tomato sauce. Not the best analogy. You know what I mean though. We actually have a lot in common. We both like art, we’re both bi, and we’re both failing math. She’s actually a really nice girl. I find myself enjoying the date.

We talk for hours. I only notice how much time has passed when Jacobi’s starts to close. We’re the last people in the restaurant. We quickly pay the check and leave. I drive her home, and we talk the whole way. When we get to her house, I realize that I don’t want the date to end.

“Thanks for tonight. I had fun.” She smiles. God, her smile is beautiful.

“D-do you maybe want to do it again? A second date?”

“I’d like that.”

“So? Was she crazy? Is she a serial killer? Or is she actually a secret spy for the FBI?” Race hounds me with questions. “I bet it wasn’t that nice. She’s not even cute.” Katharine mutters. “Actually, I had a really good night with her. We’re going on a second date.” Everyone’s eyes widen. “Now you have to tell me everything!” Race squeals.

“There’s not much to tell. We got pizza at Jacobi’s and had fun. She’s kind of awesome.” I blush when I admit that. “Jack’s got a crush! I told you I was an expert matchmaker, Davey!” 

“What? You- but it was all a joke, right? You aren’t actually planning to date her, right?” I sense a tone of jealousy in her words. “I really like her.” I run a nervous hand through my hair. Davey pats me on the shoulder. “She’s a nice girl. You chose well.” Katharine scoffs under her breath. I choose to ignore it.

We all head into the cafeteria. I see Alex at her normal table, head buried in her book. I walk over and invite her to sit with us. She hesitates, but then she says yes. She takes a seat next to me at the table. The boys stare at her like with interest. She awkwardly waves.

“Everyone, this is Alex. Alex, this is. Well. Everyone.” I gesture widely around the table. They all give various greetings. “So, what are you reading?” Davey asks. She shows him the cover. “I read that a while ago! It was super interesting.” 

“Look at the two nerds bonding,” Finch chuckles. “You’re Katharine Pulitzer, right? We have english together.” Katharine pastes on a fake smile and nods.  When lunch ends, we all split up. Katharine and I head to Science together. “What’s your deal with Alex?” 

“She’s nice. I just don’t like her vibe.”

“Her vibe?”

“She’s not really your type. I don’t really get what you see in her.”

“Once you get to know her, you’ll like her as much as I do. She’s great, I promise.” 

ALEX’S POV:

I offer to pay for the movie tickets, but Jack insists on paying. We buy tickets to see a new comedy with Jack Black. We get some popcorn and candy. We have seats near the back. While we wait for the movie to start, Jack throws some popcorn and catches in his mouth.

I try but miss. He laughs and catches another piece. The two of us go back and forth, trying to see who can catch the most. By the time the trailers start, we’ve dropped almost half the popcorn. 

About halfway through the movie, Jack places his arm around my shoulders. The classic date move. I don’t mind though. I lean against him, and I see his big dopey smile. I probably have one of my own. 

Jack drives me home, and we chat the whole way. I feel like I’ve known him for ages. He walks me to my front door. We stare at each other for a moment. The air is tense, electricity zapping between us. My heart starts to beat faster. Blood rushes to my cheeks.

“Can-can I kiss you?” Jack chokes out. I don’t give him an answer. I just press my lips to his. He places a hand on my cheek. His lips are gentle, loving. When we pull away, both of us are breathing heavily. 

“Wow.” Jack whispers.

I blush and avert my eyes. 

“You’re going to take me out on a third date, right?”

ALEX’S POV:

Katharine is waiting for me outside our english class. “Hey, Kath!” She doesn’t say hi back. She ushers for me to follow her. She leads me to an empty hallway. “What’s with the secrecy?”

“I have something to tell you. And I’m only doing this because I consider you a friend.” I can see straight through her acting. She’s as fake as Regina George. “What is it?”

“I know you really like Jack. And that’s why I’m really sorry to have to tell you this. But the date he asked you out on? It was a dare. From Race.” I force a laugh. “You’re kidding right?” 

She shakes her head. “Do you have any proof?” Katharine pulls out her phone. She scrolls for a few second before handing it to me. It’s a group chat between the gang.

RACE: I still can’t believe she said yes

JACK: I told you, I’m the dare master

ALBERT: that’s a terrible name

JACK: whatever, I still won

RACE: you can’t win truth or dare

FINCH: what are you going to do for the date?

JACK: Take her out for a cheap date, say it’s not working out, win the game

RACE: there’s no winning in truth or dare dude

I fight the tears gathering in my eyes. I hand Katharine her phone back. She stares at me with fake pity. “I’m-I’m going to go.” I rush out of the room. I head to the nearest bathroom and sit in the stall. I let the tears fall. I thought he loved me. I loved him. I was just a joke. He just used me to look cool.

For once I felt loved. Like someone liked me for me. I’m the weird kid, the one people ignore and make fun of. I should have known that he didn’t actually love me. I’m the oddity. All I’m good for is a joke.

I spend the rest of the period in the bathroom. I finally run out of tears. I splash some water on my face. My reflection stares back at me. I look like a ghost. I guess I am in a way. No one really sees me. 

I walk to Jack’s science classroom. I wait outside. The bell finally wrings and people start to exit. I see Jack come out. He smiles and walks towards me. 

“Hey, hon-”

“Don’t.”

JACK’S POV:

I think I’m in love. That may sound crazy, but it’s true. I’ve only been dating Alex for a month. Best month of my life. I’ve never connected with someone like this. The whole gang likes her too. Except for Katharine. She has something against Alex, I don’t know what.

The bell finally rings. I walk outside and see Alex leaning against the wall. “Hey, hon-”

“Don’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Was I just a dare to you?” 

My face goes white. “Alex, it’s not like that! It started as a dare, but I really like you. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to mess it up-”

“You messed it up when you used me to win a fucking game, dare master. You’re a dick, Kelly. I thought someone finally saw me as something other than the school freak. I guess that’s all I am. A freak people use for their own gain.”

“Please. I love you.”

“Just stop. No more lies.” 

She turns her back and walks away. I start to run after her, but the crowd of students pushes me back. I force my way through the crowd. I run into Katharine. Before she can get a word out I ask if she’s seen Alex. 

“I haven’t. Is everything alright?”

“No. She found out about the dare. She broke up with me.” 

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care about being dare master, I care about her.” I pause. How did Alex know about the whole dare master conversation? She couldn’t have. Unless someone showed her the texts. And she has her first period with Katharine.

“You told Alex.” 

“So what if I did? She wasn’t the right girl for you. You need a girl like me.”

“You don’t get to make that decision! I loved her, and you took that away! Did you really think breaking me up with Alex would make me love you? I don’t love you, Katharine. I never will.”

Katharine tries to defend herself, but I run off. I need to find Alex. I search everywhere, but I can’t find her. Then I look out the window. She’s sitting under a tree. Her knees are pulled to her chest. Her arms are wrapped around her body like they’re the only thing holding her together.

I race outside. She looks up when she hears me coming. “What do you want?” She hisses. “To talk. Please.” She bites her lip. “Fine.” I take a seat next to her. I can see the tear stains on her shirt. My heart breaks. I did this to her. I hurt the woman I love.

“You have five minutes.” 

“Alex, it started out as a dare. And I was stupid to take it. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. And I am so, so sorry. And what I said about loving you? That wasn’t a lie. I really do love you.”

“How can I believe you?”

“You can’t. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. I understand if you never want to talk to me again. And I’ll respect that. Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“God damn it, Jack. You make it so hard to hate you.” Alex tearfully laughs. “What you did, it hurt. I’m willing to give you a second chance because I love you. Don’t make me regret it.”

I gently hold her hand. She leans her head on my shoulder. We’re not perfect. We probably never will be. But all that matters is that we love each other. That’s more than enough.

[aquidragon]

Purple (Part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: Spencer sometimes considered his eidetic memory a curse, however when he spots a gorgeous woman crossing the street with a purple ribbon, he can’t help but fall heads over heels for her. However, there’s more to her than it seems... Warning(s): Mentions of blood and alludes to violence Word Count: 2.2k A/N: Here’s my first ever x reader series! Thank you to @criesinreid​ for beta-reading this for me! (Part One: Here) (Part Two: x) (MASTERLIST) ---

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      Spencer Reid POV

It was a sunny Tuesday morning when I saw her, with beautiful h/c hair that was tied with a purple ribbon. Maybe it was because of the color, since purple was my favorite, but I felt like I was drawn to her. I watched with a rather stupid expression as she walked past me, with a wide smile from across the street. I felt my heart flutter and my face get warm. She was gorgeous. My eidetic memory allowed me to picture her smile and her shining h/c hair as she chased after her friends. After a few days, I caught myself imagining holding her hand and taking her out on dates. Would she like attending the library with me? What kind of genres did she enjoy? I could tell that she at least could read, since she was holding a few books close to her chest as she ran. I could no longer focus the book I held in my hands, the words seemed jumbled and scrambled. Nothing made sense, except for the woman that had blessed my very mind. The few seconds that I had my eyes on her, I couldn’t get her picture out of my vision. I let out a small sigh as I closed my book, allowing my mind to drift to her again.

“Pretty boy has got a crush.” The familiar teasing voice of my colleague joked from right above me. I looked up from my slouched position on the jet’s couch, I snorted, brushing over my lower lip with my tongue. “I-I don’t have a crush.” I responded, which I knew wasn’t convincing as Morgan laughed and took a seat beside me. 

“Come on, you’ve been staring out into space.” He gently patted my shoulder, his dark eyes just dancing with playfulness. “So, who is she?” The older FBI agent asked, earning a small groan from me. “I told you I don’t have a crush.” I unintentionally let my voice lift up an octave, which gave away my lie. The look on Derrik’s face made me sigh and finally give in. “I saw this girl across the street from the coffee shop I frequent before work, Morgan she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” I knew it was rather dramatic, but it was true. “Well, did you get her number?” My co-worker asked, I shook my head sadly. “I didn’t get to her, she was running after some friends.” The sinking feeling in my chest began to drag down my mood. I suddenly felt like a dunce, how couldn’t I have just ran to her, asked for her name, her number, anything? 

I cursed my inept ability to flirt, or talk to women in general. Looking at my friend made my brain begin to curse itself. I wasn’t as confident as Morgan, I couldn’t even cross the street to go after the girl that I was really fond of. This made me bring my hands up to my face, I dragged my palms over my eyes, I was much too tired to think too much about my hopeless attempts at relationships. 

Morgan must’ve noticed my downwards spiral into hopelessness, because he patted my shoulder a few more times as the plane began to shake into the descent. “Hey don’t lose hope, she might live in DC, maybe you’ll see her again.” I looked up at him again, rubbing one of my eyes as the pressure rapidly changed. “How? Morgan I can’t just search DC for her, there’s 705,749 people that live in DC.” I challenged, hopelessness sinking deeper into my chest. I also felt frantic, I felt this paranoid need to find this woman again. 

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh I know you Doctor Spencer Reid, you’ll find this woman.” Before I could respond with more statistics about the likeness of me running into a random person I hadn’t even met, the plane started to rumble on the runway. The rest of my team all groaned as they were awoken from their naps on the five hour flight we had just endured in Seattle. 

After the plane was landed, I begrudgingly dragged my suitcase behind me towards the BAU offices. I wasn’t looking forward to doing paperwork, usually I could whisk through them with ease, but the nagging feeling in my heart made it impossible to think. All I could think about was her, and that purple ribbon that bounced with her movements as she ran. I scuffled all my paperwork back into a file, I would fill it out tomorrow morning, after my third coffee of the day. I was just about to leave when I heard the soft voice of my closest friend. 

“Leaving so soon Spence?”  JJ asked tiredly, I could tell that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. “Yeah- I’m too tired to do paperwork tonight.” I responded briskly, bringing up three of my fingers to rub one of my eyes. “Wow, Spencer Reid, too tired to do paperwork?” The teasing voice of Penelope came next, her entire body was limp and exhausted. I couldn’t help but crack a small smile, gathering up the last of my stuff. “Yeah-I have plans” I responded nervously. I couldn’t tell Penelope that I had a crush on a girl I randomly laid eyes on. I’m sure I could just tell the woman that the mystery girl owned a purple ribbon and she could find my crush within a couple hours. Tops. 

“Ooo plans?” Garcia asked, a little bit of excitement glittered in her eyes. I opened my mouth to tell her that it was just a trip to the library, but Morgan stepped on. “Woah now Baby Girl, we can’t have our pretty boy here giving away his secrets.” He sent a wink at me, which made me chuckle. “I gotta go guys, see you on Monday.” I walked out of the office, heading towards the silver elevator that would take me to the main floor. 

Now, I normally don’t believe in dream analysis. There’s just not enough evidence to prove that our dreams are somehow linked to ourselves. However, the events in my dream felt so unbelievably real. I saw the woman again, with her gorgeous h/l hair and sparkling e/c eyes. We were in a void, which reminded me of being underwater. My hair was fanned around my head, as if I was swimming. I looked back over at the woman, her hair was also floating around her pretty face. The purple ribbon was no longer on her head, but instead it was tied around her pinky finger. 

“Spencer, look!” She spoke, but her voice was echoed, and sounded like a weird mix of voices. “We’re connected.” I blinked, confused. “Connected?” I muttered to myself, before I felt a tug at my pinky finger, making me look down. Just like the woman’s, a purple ribbon was tight around my finger, and led just to her pinky. 

I let a joyous laugh bubble out of my chest. “I guess we are.” I looked back at the girl, she was now closer. Her face was slightly blurry, but it also seemed so clear.  She seemed sad, from the way her hands floated over my shoulders. “Please find me.” The woman with the purple ribbon whispered, her voice softening. “I need you.” Then I heard gunshots, screaming, and a woman screaming for help. I moved to protect the girl, but she was gone, I was now in a decrepit looking house. I unholstered my gun, approaching the door where I heard the noises. Blood began pouring from the crack between the door and floor. I let out a scream.

And then I woke up

---      Y/N L/N POV

Any method to get away from my psycho family was a win for me. Even if it meant hanging out with my shitty friends from high school, who did nothing but cause trouble and get high. Now I didn’t really have an issue with people getting high, I once dabbled in it when I was in my early college years. I only stopped when I started to fall behind in my classes. 

So today, I decided I was going to the cute little coffee shop I passed after stopping at the library. I’ve been in a desperate need for coffee anyway. Looking into the mirror of my vanity, I cautiously applied makeup to my face. Brushing a hint of blush onto my cheeks as I smiled at myself. I loved makeup, maybe it was because my parents never let me use it growing up. They believed it was “against God's will” or yadda yadda. 

It didn’t matter anymore, I lived in my own shitty apartment, so I could do whatever I wanted to myself. After finishing up the last touches to my face, I reached over to tie my ribbon. I didn’t know why, but I was always drawn to the color purple, so I bought a lot of purple-colored accessories. My ribbon was my most prized accessory though, I could tie it in my hair in whatever way I saw fit.

So, I tied it in my favorite way before admiring myself in the mirror once again. I tried to ignore the subtle scars marking certain locations on my face, but I felt like my makeup covered them well. Feeling satisfied, I switched off the lights, grabbed my phone and headed out. 

“Ugh seriously?” I exclaimed as I stepped outside, only to feel the subtle drops of rain on my hair. The coffee place was only a block or so from my apartment complex, and I really didn’t feel like digging for my keys again. So, I bolted, hurrying to the cafe as the rain started to pelt down harder. 

Once I reached the building, I threw open the door and got inside. Breathing heavily, I searched my purse for my wallet and made my way over to the line. The line went by fast, I ordered my coffee and went to sit down right by the window. A storm had rolled in, I sipped at my beverage as I watched people outside scramble about in hopes for shelter. 

One of them being a handsome lanky man that I swore I saw somewhere. He glanced at me from outside, through the window, and his face lit up. He swiftly entered the cafe, and made a beeline over to me. He didn’t order anything, but the baristas seemed to recognize him, one of them even waved. 

“I-I’m sorry is this seat taken?” The brunette asked, breathlessly, as he stood behind the seat next to me. I shook my head, scooting my chair over so he could get into the one he wanted. “Do I know you from somewhere?” I asked, curiously, I swore I recognized him. 

The handsome man seemed surprised, he took off his soaked jacket. “Uh, I saw you last Tuesday.” He mumbled, his voice squeaking a bit. I bit the corner of my mouth and observed him from head to toe. He was well-dressed, with a dark grey cardigan over what seemed to be a dress shirt and tie. He wore dress pants, but had two well-worn converse and two differently colored socks. 

Suddenly it came to me, I had glanced at him as I rushed to catch up with my friends. I remembered that I really wanted to look back at him again, but had a time constraint. “Oh yeah!” I grinned, taking another sip of my caffeinated beverage. “I remember now.” The man seemed pleased at my words, fumbling with the ends of his cardigan nervously.  “Oh, well, I’m Doctor Reid.” The man seemed like he wanted to shake my hand, but kept his hands as far from mine as possible. He nervously cleared his throat, looking at me in the eyes. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Spencer gave me a hopeful smile, which I returned. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you Doctor, my name is Y/n.” I didn’t bother saying my last name, I didn’t want to be associated with it. 

“No please, call me Spencer.” The fawn-brown haired doctor sounded tense. “No need to use formalities with me here.” He clarified, making me laugh. “Alright, alright. Spencer it is then.” When our eyes met, I swore that Spencer looked at me with so much intensity I thought I would explode. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to say something.

Ring

“Oh sorry lemme get that.” The doctor scrambled into his pocket, pulling out an ancient flip phone and answering the call. “What? Already?” He paused, listening into the call, I began to become more intrigued by the minute. His face fell, his once bright and handsome face turned into one that resembled haunted somberness. “I understand, I’ll be there right away Hotch.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, not bothering to suppress my curiosity. “It’s my-job.” Spencer answered sluggishly, making a face as he slid on his damp jacket. “Oh?” I watched as he scrambled for a napkin and he fished a pen from his satchel. 

“Call me?” The honey-eyed man asked hopefully, after sketching out his number on the paper. I nodded, taking the napkin into my hand, scanning over the haphazardly written numbers. “Of course-” I responded, but Spencer was already halfway out the door. I snorted, slipping out my phone and typing in the man’s number. Now THIS will be interesting...

---

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter nine

i apologize from the bottom of my heart for this chapter taking so long!! school sucks and takes up so much time. so please enjoy all these words that i wrote! big plots coming up real soon!! also i apologize in advance for the amount of pov changes in this chapter lol.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

pairing: season 10 spencer reid x female oc

warnings: talk of childhood abuse, smut, alcohol consumption, guns, me not knowing anything about art

words: 10.2k

AMELIA

I’m practically drenched in sweat when I wake up, cocooned in Spencer’s arms with my face pressed into his neck. Spencer becomes a furnace during the night, and combining his body heat with his tendency to cuddle me for hours upon hours, waking up sweaty is a common occurrence. My nose scrunches up and I start my gentle trek to unravel from Spencer’s arms. Thankfully, his grip isn’t too tight and he lets me go, snoring away and tucking his hands under my pillow. 

I have every intention of getting up to go make breakfast before Spencer has to leave, but when I linger and let myself admire his face, I stop in my tracks. I revel in the beauty of his little button nose and his unruly eyebrows and his dimples, a different type of warmth spreading through my body. I resist the urge to reach forward and run my fingers over his face. He needs to get as much sleep as possible before he returns to work in a few hours. 

Work. I guess he has to go back to work. Our six weeks together were absolutely amazing and only made me fall deeper in love with Spencer. We switched from apartment to apartment for the first two weeks or so, spending most of our time watching movies, laying in bed, or sitting on the balcony as we share a blanket. And once Spencer was mobile again, we opted to go out more than we had been. We went to the grocery store, bookshops, dinners, a drive-in movie, and Spencer even took me to a planetarium. We stayed there for hours as Spencer rambled on and on and on about the stars and planets and constellations. I don’t think I retained any of the information he relayed but I didn’t care and I still don’t. I got to spend time with my boyfriend with my head on his chest as he hugged me as tight as he could and that is all that matters. 

But now he’s leaving and he will be returning to his insane job. He will be traveling for days at a time and at a moment’s notice, leaving me to stress over his well-being and safety. That’s a feeling that I don’t miss. I shake my head at my own intrusive thoughts, pulling away from my peaceful boyfriend. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and bury my face in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut as the horrible images of Spencer in the hospital resurface in my brain. I'm not even the one with the eidetic memory and I can still vividly remember how broken and weak he was after having three serious brushes with death in two days.

"Amelia?" I hear Spencer's voice behind me, the bed dipping as he rolls over. "What's wrong?"

I hastily wipe my cheeks and shake my head again, waving my hand. "Nothing, go back to bed."

I flinch when I feel Spencer's hand on my waist, his arms wrapping around my midsection, his chest pressing against my back so I'm sitting between his legs. "You're crying," his morning voice is undeniably sexy and raspy in my ear as he rests his chin against my shoulder. "Talk to me, please."

I place my hands on top of his where they rest on my stomach, intertwining our fingers and trying to remind myself that he's here and he's safe. But he won't be soon. He'll be off in the field and he'll be around the worst that society has to offer. People who kill without a second thought and don’t care if they take a federal agent and leave a sobbing, lovesick girlfriend behind. He faced three people like that and almost lost his life. It's a miracle he's even sitting here right now.

"Amelia?" He asks again, peering over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of my face. "Come on, talk to me. I don’t want you to cry."

"I just," I let my head fall back against his shoulder, wanting to be as close to him as possible, scooting my butt back until my body is completely flush against his, "I don't want you to go. I'm so scared you'll get hurt again and I can't- I don't wanna see you like that again, Spence, I can't-"

“Okay, okay, come here,” Spencer pats my thigh and scoots back against the headboard, opening his arms for me. I crack a smile, silently crawling into his arms and curling up against his chest. I can hear the steady rhythm of Spencer’s heartbeat in my ear, calming me down to the point where I almost fall back asleep. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. I’ll fall asleep on top of Spencer, he won’t have the heart to move my sleeping body, and then he has to stay home from work. It’s a win for everyone, except maybe Spencer’s boss.

"I'm gonna come home to you," Spencer whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "I always have. I mean, I got shot and I still came home, right?"

"Spencer, acknowledging your gunshot wound isn’t helping,” I lift my head and my eyes wander to his neck, seeing the mark that's there, no longer a wound or even a scab, just a scar that will likely take a long time to fade, if it does at all. "I’m always gonna worry. I still worry about what types of situations you'll get yourself into and how many people are dying and if you're in danger and if someone is targeting you. I’ll always be worrying about you, except for the moments when you’re right next to me.”

"I know," Spencer sighs, brushing my hair behind my ears. His soft touch sets my skin on fire, and every time his lips touch my skin, I shutter. "I know it's hard and I'm sorry that you have to deal with this alone. But you know that I'll call you as much as I can to check in while I'm away. I might not even get a case today and then we can be together tonight! You never know what could happen.”

"I just-" I pause again, resting my forehead against Spencer’s chin, breathing in the lingering scent of the body wash that I’ve caught sight of in his bathroom. I try to breathe it in as much as possible so I can remember it when he leaves, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Spencer grins. Every time I recite those beautiful three words to him, even after six weeks of telling him at least four times every day, he stills grins in the most adorable way. "And I love you too. Don't worry your pretty little head about me, though. Go to your studio and make some more of your beautiful art. You haven't exercised your creative side properly in almost six weeks and you need to get it all out."

"Text me," I completely ignore what he says, far too wrapped up in my anxiety. "Just text me if you get a case and text me all the time if you can't call me, just so I know-"

"I always do," Spencer cuts me off. "Don't stress out too much, Lia. I've got a gun and my team, that's all I need. I'll come home to you, don't worry."

My bottom lip quivers as more tears threaten to fall, and I grip Spencer's tee shirt in my fists. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Course," he lures me closer, pressing his lips to mine in a feather-light kiss. For whatever reason, the simple kiss calms me down. For a millisecond, it makes me forget that he's about to run into the belly of the beast yet again. The pain returns when we pull away, and I wish I could keep kissing him forever to keep him in my arms and protect him from the horrors he is about to go see. "Alright," Spencer sighs, his hands falling to my waistline, "I've gotta start getting ready or we won't have time to get coffee."

“And tea!”

“Yes, and tea for you.”

I pull away and climb out of his bed, running my fingers through my hair as I reach for my bag, stuffed full of clothes, setting it on the bed. Spencer silently climbs out and heads into the bathroom to shower, leaving me in the bedroom to change. My hands are still shaking but I try to calm myself. Spencer seems calm so why shouldn't I be? He’s the trained federal agent here, so I have nothing to worry about, right? He knows what he’s doing and he’s been doing this job for years. I don’t need to worry. Please stop worrying.

I'm tightening my belt just as Spencer is coming out of the bathroom fully dressed, running his fingers through his wet hair. He looks criminally attractive but I don't let myself get distracted for long, tying my shirt up and running my fingers through my curls to tame them just a bit. I sit on the bed and tie on my tennis shoes, seeing Spencer clipping on his watch, always over the cuff of his sleeve. When he cranes his neck to get his tie on, I see the scar again and I have to tear my eyes away before I start crying for the third time this morning.

"Are you gonna be here when I come back?" Spencer asks, moving to stand in front of me, my eyes raking up his body until our eyes lock. He’s smiling, almost like he’s excited to go back to the job that got him addicted to drugs and the job that got him shot twice, and the job that gives him constant nightmares.

"I can be," I stand, giving him a weak smile as I reach for my overnight backpack. I wordlessly toss open the bedroom door and pick up Spencer's messenger bag, handing it over to him as he follows me. I don't even wait for him before I leave the apartment, hearing him closing and locking the door behind us.

Spencer only catches up to me when we get onto the sidewalk outside, the welcomed warmth from the sun soaking into our skin. He captures my hand in his and doesn't let go, intertwining our fingers and squeezing. "Why do I get the feeling that you're mad at me? Did I say something?"

I tug on his hand and he comes closer, allowing me to rest my head on his arm as we walk, our pace slowing a bit. I don't have the proper words to express the utter fear I'm feeling. I've lost the people I love before and I can't let that happen again. If I lose Spencer then there's no reason for me to be on this earth anymore. I can’t keep dealing with the heartbreak. I've never loved anyone the way I love him and if that gets ripped away from me yet again, I don't know what I'd do. I can’t lose my family and the love of my life and expect to continue living my life. I wouldn’t be able to. 

"No," I answer his question weakly. I feel Spencer's eyes on me but I don't dare to look up at him, despite the way I crave to be comforted by the beauty of his eyes. "I’m not- no.”

"I don't want to go to work with you like this. I don't wanna leave you upset," he brings our hands up, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "And," he sighs dramatically, loudly, dropping our hands back down to our sides, "love, if this is too much for you and my job is too much, you don't have to stick around.”

I instantly freeze, my feet melting into the concrete sidewalk. "Are you breaking up with me? B-Because you think I can't handle the baggage that comes with your job?"

"No, no," Spencer shakes his head, standing in front of me and grabbing my cheeks. His forwardness would surprise me any day, but I’m stunned that he is willing to act like this and show any level of PDA on a public sidewalk while everyone is rushing to work. "I don't wanna break up with you, god no. But I love you and if you're in pain because of what I'm doing then I don't want you to go through that.”

"I don't wanna leave you. I'm not in pain, Spencer," I reach my trembling fingers forward and place them at his waistline, clutching the soft fabric of his cardigan. "I've lost people. And I love you so much. I don't wanna lose you like I've lost everyone else in my life but I don't wanna leave you. That's the last thing I wanna do. I just want you to be safe and I want you to come home to me, that's all I want."

"I will, I always will. But like I said, just go to your studio and focus on your work. I’ll text and call when I can, but I want you to worry about yourself. Do all the work you didn’t get to do when you were taking care of me. And thanks for that, by the way." Spencer brings his lips down to mine again, thumbs brushing against my cheekbones. I hold him there for longer than we probably should be kissing on a public sidewalk, but as people rush past us on their commute to work, I keep my focus on him. "Let's go, come on, I need my coffee and you need your tea."

Spencer grabs my hand again and pulls me along the sidewalk, dodging hurrying businessmen in tight suits. I'm glad Spencer doesn't wear suits to work, not like his unit chief. I'm sure he'd look incredibly attractive in them, but I like his style. Focus, Amelia. Your boyfriend is about to return to the job that got him shot. Stop thinking about his outfits and his sense of style. Get your head out of your ass.

Spencer orders both of our drinks and then brings me over to our normal booth, and I usually sit across from him, but today, I sit on the same side as him. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as he pulls his messenger bag off his shoulder and places his hand on my thigh. I lean my head onto his shoulder and let my eyes close, letting the warmth from the cup in my hand and Spencer’s hand on my leg spread to the rest of my body. 

"Are you nervous to go back?" I finally ask the question that's been on the tip of my tongue all morning. Well, maybe it’s not the only question I’ve been dying to ask. There are a million other questions that I could ask and none of them would feel right. Not to say that this one is the right one, but this one seems natural.

Spencer hums. "I try not to let myself get nervous because then I make mistakes and I can't afford mistakes. I block out nerves. I'm not happy to be leaving you because I've loved spending six weeks with you, but I'm excited to be getting back to work and-"

"Helping people," I finish for him. Spencer nods and goes quiet again. My other questions are swirling around in my head and as much as I tell myself to shut them out, they don’t stop. "I have another question. It’s an, um, an odd question."

"And what would that be?”

"I know I'm not the profiler here," he chuckles as I shift around to face him, "but I've noticed that you never wear your gun around me. You wear your holster but not your gun. When I go to see Penelope at the BAU, everyone has their guns, even outside the buildings. Your team had their guns in the hospital, even Mike always had his gun on him at home. Why don't you?"

Spencer hums once more, taking a moment to think through his answer. The silence makes me regret asking the question. I’m dying to know, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Is Spencer uncomfortable? Is that why he’s quiet? "I don't think I really need to. I don't feel the need to subject you to the constant presence of a gun.”

"It doesn't bother me," I tell him softly, tracing my finger around the rim of my cup. I avoid eye contact. "I've seen worse than a gun. I can shoot a gun, did I tell you that?"

Spencer's eyebrows shoot up. "Um, no. You didn't tell me that. I want to ask why you know how to shoot a gun but I don’t think I want to know the answer.”

"I'm not that good at it," I take a sip of my piping hot tea, shrugging my shoulders in a way that is far too nonchalant for this conversation. "Mike taught me a few years ago. Self-defense and all. He actually came to me about it. I was the oldest kid in the house so if anything were to happen when he wasn’t around, I’d know how to shoot one of his spare guns."

Spencer gingerly places his cup on the table, pulling his hand away from my thigh and placing them in his lap. "Just because you know how to shoot a gun doesn't mean I have to go around, parading mine on my hip whenever you're around."

"Have you ever noticed," I ignore his insistence of my innocent, angel personality, "that I don't cool down my tea?"

Spencer taps his fingers against the table, not even looking at me. "Yeah, actually, I have noticed that."

I glance around the emptying cafe and notice that the booths around us are empty and nobody is in earshot. "When I did ‘bad things’ like get a snack during the night or come home thirty seconds late from school or ask what was for dinner, my dad used to hold me down, force open my mouth, pull out my tongue and hold it out, and pour hot sauce on it. It basically fried my tongue to the point where the heat from a cup of tea or coup doesn’t bother me. It’s nothing compared to what I’m used to. I spent my childhood getting hot sauce on my tongue and getting cigarette burns all over my body. I’ve done things and seen some pretty fucked up things throughout my life and, frankly, seeing a gun on your hip won't affect me more than seeing a tattoo of my dead brother on my arm will." 

Spencer grabs onto my arm, gentler than ever, tracing his fingers over a few tattoos- the ones I didn’t tell him about. With my spare hand, I grab my tea and take another sip. “Those five are for my foster homes.”

“Your foster homes? You hated them. Why would you get them tattooed?” 

“Because they’re apart of me,” I shrug one more time and twist my arm around in Spencer’s grasp. “The cactus is from when I lived in Arizona. Pretty self-explanatory. The book is from one house I lived in right next to a library and I would sneak out at night and break into the book drop off bin and read the books that people were returning. The bumblebee is from a house with a wasps nest in the backyard, and it’s where I found out I’m allergic to bee stings. The turtle is from when the house had a pet turtle. And the heart is from a house I lived in where they had this weird metal replica of a heart, and my foster brother at the time broke it and we all got beat up for it. So there, now you know about all my tattoos and about most of my shitty childhood.” Just in time, the alarm on my phone goes off. "You've gotta go," I collect my cup and my phone, slipping out of the booth and stomping towards the door.

Spencer follows after me quickly, his long legs carrying him over to me at record speed. And despite the negative energy radiating off of me, Spencer laces his pinky with mine as I start to walk towards the train. Our laced pinkies are such a tiny gesture but it fills my body with so much love and warmth that my ears tear up. Spencer doesn’t say anything about my bad attitude or the new information I just blurted out. He just pulls me closer to his body and swings our arms between us. When we get to the metro station, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to go down the stairs. He wraps me in his arms and holds me as tight as he can.

"Be careful, okay?" I tuck my face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent, an intoxicating combination of coffee, peppermint, and some musky cologne. Spencer kisses the top of my head and squeezes my waist. "I love you so, so much. I don't want another call from Penelope that you're in the hospital, okay? No more of that.”

Spencer nods against me. “No more of that,” he confirms.

“Do you promise?”

"Of course, I promise."

///

SPENCER

///

It's refreshing to finally be back in the BAU after six weeks off with the girl I love, but my mind is racing and part of me can't even enjoy being back. The elevator doors open and I easily spot Morgan and JJ chatting in the bullpen through the glass doors, but I take a sharp right. I knock quickly on Garcia's door, waiting to hear her shout before opening.

She gasps and grins when I enter, jumping out of her chair to come give me a hug. "It's so good to see you, Spencer! How are you feeling? How's Amelia? How was it spending six weeks together?"

"I'm fine, she's amazing, and six weeks off was great and I'm happy to be back. But I need you to do something for me." I speak quickly, far too scatterbrained to hold off on my train of thought.

"Oh," she looks a bit stunned as she nods and hurries back to her computer. "I'm at your service, Boy Wonder."

"Okay," I lean over her chair with a heavy sigh as the guilt starts to weigh on me. "I, um, I need you to look up the case that Amelia was involved in."

Garcia whips her head back to me, her eyes wide. "She told you about that?"

"Yeah, she did. And I need you to look it up."

"But why?" Garcia whines as she types in Amelia's name. "I feel icky when I look up my friends and family. I don't like poking into their lives. I already unsealed the court documents from when Rossi made me look them up and I felt absolutely horrible about that."

I lean in closer to read the screen when a whole load of documents and paperwork pop up. "Alright. Damien Kelsey was arrested by Gideon and Rossi, and Amelia was taken to a foster home. He was found guilty on thirty-seven counts of murder on women but he was-"

"Oh my god," Garcia's eyes widen, her hands stilling over her keyboard.

"Print all this information out for me," I demand without meaning to sound so rude, but I barely even give it a second thought as I go storming out of Garcia's lair. I throw open the doors to the bullpen, my eyes locked on one particular closed door. My blood boils hotter than ever before and my hands ball up into fists. Morgan and JJ both greet me from their desks but I ignore them, instead throwing open Rossi's door and then slamming it closed.

Rossi, understandably, looks alarmed as I enter. I can't help the anger that bubbles up in me, but I don't even think it's aimed at him. I think I'm just angry at the world. I just want to wrap Amelia up in my arms and protect her in my arms. From the moment I met her, I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to keep her out of my insane job and to put her in a bubble of innocence and happiness. But knowing that her innocence has already been tainted and her childhood was ruined makes my heart hurt more than it already does.

"Reid?" Rossi stands from his desk, brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

"Damien Kelsey.”

Rossi sighs, relaxing back into his chair and crossing his arms. "So Amelia told you about her father."

"Yeah, she did. But she didn’t tell me,” I slam a stack of papers on the desk in front of him, “this. And this seems pretty damn important.”

"Reid, take a seat, please," Rossi states, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. But when I don't, he knows it's not worth it to continue to harp on it. "I’m aware of this and it’s being dealt with.”

“It’s being dealt with? For over a decade?” I snap. “This is something that should be done already!”

A knock on the door interrupts us, and Garcia pops her head in. "Sorry to end this very loud conversation, but I have some questions about what dessert I should be bringing tomorrow. Chocolate chip cookies or apple fritters?”

I whip my head back to Rossi, pointing at the papers on his desk. “This conversation isn’t over.”

AMELIA

I took Spencer’s advice and went straight to my art studio after he disappeared into the train station. I desperately needed something to distract me and working usually does the trick. So I rush a few blocks over and throw on an apron, getting to work. I haven’t done much work, other than simple drawings, the last few weeks and it’s nice to get back to the thing I love. I guess that’s how Spencer feels about going back to work today. Maybe I should have been more accepting and supportive of his return to the BAU. 

I lose myself in my work, tossing paint at a canvas and creating everything I possibly can in the shortest amount of time. I’m not sure when my time here could be interrupted so I try to get all of my thoughts onto canvas before I have to leave. I’m there for hours and hours before taking a break even crosses my mind. So I collapse into the bean bag chair in the corner of the room and take a break for the first time all day.

Now, Penelope Garcia is an absolute master at what she does. I’ve seen her in action a few times and I’ve heard plenty of stories from Spencer about how she solves a case and finds an unsub just in time to save a life. Penelope Garcia has never been to my studio before but I become momentarily convinced that she broke in and installed cameras to watch me because the second I sit down to take a break, she calls me.

“Hello, my love,” I greet her sweetly. “How is going at the BAU today?”

“Hello, Girl Wonder! It is going great at the BAU today. So far, it’s been a paperwork day and I’ve been bored so I wanted to call you to check up on my new best friend.”

Oh, thank god. It’s a paperwork day. Hopefully, it’ll stay that way and I’ll get to spend the night with Spencer. 

“Oh, that’s sweet, Penny. I’m doing pretty well. I’m at my studio right now and working on some new pieces. I haven’t really been able to work lately so I’m cramming all my thoughts into a few hours,” I take a glance around my studio, or more specifically, at the paint splatters on the wall and the brushes on the floor, “or actually, just making a total mess.”

“I’m not the best painter so you should teach me how to paint. Oh! Oh! I know! You should teach a paint night for the BAU! That would be so much fun. And maybe you could do it at Rossi’s dinner party tomorrow!”

“Dinner party?”

“Oh, yeah,” Penelope’s voice drops slightly. “Spencer didn’t tell you about that?”

“No, he didn’t.” A pout creeps onto my face. Maybe I really, truly annoyed him this morning with my excessive worrying. I’m only trying to protect him, he has to know that. Or there’s a possibility that he doesn’t want me at the dinner. He could want to hang out with his coworkers without me. After all, we did spend six weeks straight together. Maybe he needs a little break, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it still hurts a little that he didn’t tell me about it, whether he decides to invite me or not. 

“Well, Rossi only invited us today and we all know Boy Wonder isn’t fond of technology, so maybe he’s planning on asking you in person. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. But, hey! That paint night. What do you think?”

SPENCER

I drag my feet up the steps of the metro, into the chilled air of the night, taking a quick glance of my surroundings with my tired eyes. The moonlight creates the path back to my apartment, and the closer I get, the more excited I become to getting into bed. Despite it being a paperwork day, I had a mountain of work to do that didn’t get done while I was on medical leave, and it needed to be finished asap. So it’s just passing eight o’clock when I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment, constantly pulling the falling strap of my satchel up my arm. The last time it falls, I let my bag fall completely onto the floor, fishing through the pocket to find my keys. 

I enter my dark apartment and throw my satchel aside and hang up my jacket, locking up my gun in a safe and kicking off my shoes. I drag my feet into the kitchen, hopefully for some dinner, flicking the light switch as I walk in. I have every intention of heading to the fridge but first, I find a container of food from my favorite restaurant on the table. Beside it, a note from Amelia.

I ordered dinner for us before I knew you were going to be late, so this is yours. I’m going to try and stay up for when you return but I’m really tired so I might not make it. So if I’m knocked out by the time you get home, then I love you and I missed you a lot today!! Now come give me attention!!!!!!!

Love, Lia <3

My socked feet are silent against the hardwood as I tiptoe into the living room, finding my sleeping girlfriend on the couch, wrapped up in a plaid blanket with her feet sticking out of the bottom. Her laptop is on the coffee table in front of her, displaying the title screen for a show called Lucifer that she had been telling me about the other day. I watched a few episodes with Amelia during my medical leave but I couldn’t get over the unlikeliness that a biblical figure could have the powers to slow time on Earth or that a human could have a baby with a biblical figure that isn’t even a human. Amelia banned me from watching the show again.

I crouch down beside the couch and bring my hand to Amelia’s cheek, stroking my thumb along her cheekbone. "Amelia," I whisper, only seeing her eyes flutter in the slightest, "sweet girl, wake up."

She hums, scrunching up her nose, and before coming to, eyelids fluttering again before opening. She smiles softly, wiggling her hips to turn to me. "Hi, baby."

"Hi," I whisper back. "Come to bed. I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep too. Don't sleep on the couch."

"Did you eat?" Amelia murmurs, her hand trailing up to rest atop mine. She twists her head and presses a kiss to my palm, pulling my hand down so she can clutch it against her chest. "I left you-"

"Shh, shh," I hush her softly. "I'm really tired. So let's just go to bed, okay? C'mon, pretty girl."

Amelia smiles lazily, sitting up and letting me push the blanket away from her. "I like when you call me that."

I chuckle, standing and holding my hands out for her. I pull her off the couch and right into my arms, tucking her head under my chin and wrapping my arms around her shoulders. "Pet names are usually your thing."

I lead her off to my bedroom and she goes crawling into bed, leaving me to change into my pajamas. I do that as quickly as I can and then slip under the duvet with Amelia. She immediately scoots backward until her back is pressed to my front and until she’s almost completely on my pillow. I move her hair aside so it’s not in my face and press a kiss to the side of her neck, and she lets out a cute noise in response. 

“I’m sorry if I annoyed you this morning,” Amelia whispers, reaching behind her to place her hand on my cheek. Just like she had done to me, I turn my head and press a kiss to Amelia’s palm. “I was just worried about you. And I’m sorry for being an asshole when I just blurted out all that stuff about my foster homes and my dad.”

“You weren’t annoying at all. I know you were worried. And you weren’t being an- well, you know what. You were worried and anxious for me and I understand that.” Amelia just hums in response, nodding softly against my chest. “But hey, are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Asking me on a date, Doctor?”

“Almost,” I chuckle. “Rossi is having the team over for dinner and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Penelope told me about this today. She called me,” Amelia mumbles. She rolls over to face but tucks her head into the crook of my neck, leaving a few kisses right over my pulse point. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Great. You can meet our new team member. Her name is Kate, she’s pretty awesome.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Is there a dress code?” I laugh again, pressing a kiss to Amelia’s forehead that makes her join my giggles. “It’s important, Spence! I can’t show up in heels if everyone else is wearing sweats. That is my worst nightmare.”

“Of course it is,” I quip. “Text Penelope and ask her. I’ll probably just wear the same boring outfits I wear everyday.”

“Hey,” Amelia finally opens her eyes again and looks up at me, “I love the way you dress. It’s not boring. You’re fucking adorable with your button ups and cardigans and ties and fun socks.”

I ignore the sentiment behind her statement and instead furrow my eyebrows. “You call them button ups?”

I can barely see her face in the darkness of my bedroom but I can still make out her expressions, and she furrows her eyebrows right back at me. “Well, what do you call them?”

“Button downs.”

“You’re wrong. That’s so wrong, baby.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone told me I was wrong, and I remember everything.” And this time, I see the corners of Amelia’s lips tip upwards, and an adorable smile graces her face. “But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Damn right I am, Doctor 187.”

///

"Come on, Amelia! We're already late!" I call up the stairs where my girlfriend is hastily getting ready for dinner.

"Coming!" She calls back, but her voice sounds distant. She has been telling me for an hour that she will be ready in five minutes but clearly, she hasn’t been telling me the truth.

While I'm still waiting for her to finish getting dressed, I wander into the living room to take the record out of the player and tuck it away safely. I make sure that it goes back in the correct place because I don’t want to face Amelia if I mess up her record organization. Amelia's apartment has become like a second home to me over the last few months of our relationship and I’m so grateful to have a safe place like this. Whenever I step foot through the door, I’m enveloped in a certain warmth that only Amelia can provide for me. The plants and the fuzzy blankets and the records that are constantly playing and the artwork on the walls and the balcony with yellow Adirondack chairs and, of course, the girl that the apartment comes with make for the perfect escape from my job. I always thought that my apartment was enough of an escape, and then I came to Amelia’s apartment for Christmas and suddenly, I never wanted to leave.

Amelia comes barreling down the stairs a moment later, her black heeled boots in her hand. She pauses at the door of the stairs and smiles nervously at me, holding her hands out as if to present herself to me. "Do I look okay?"

I don't even know why she asks because she always looks absolutely stunning, no matter what her outfit is. She's wearing a simple black dress that hugs her body in the most beautiful ways, showing off her array of colorful tattoos. She is, of course, wearing her butterfly necklace and her clusters of rings, nails painted yellow again. Her blonde hair is straightened and she has a scarf tied in her hair like a headband with a few pieces of hair pulled out to frame her face. I swear, whenever I see her, I'm speechless. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful human in my life.

"You look gorgeous, love, you always do," I compliment, holding my hand out for her to grab onto so she doesn’t tip over when putting her shoes on, "but aren't you gonna get cold when it gets dark?"

Amelia shrugs and swats her hand at me nonchalantly, grabbing her backpack and camera from the staircase banister. "I'll be fine. Let's get going. I can't believe you're driving! This is so rare!" She throws a smile over her shoulder when she walks past me, leaning over to press a kiss to my cheek. "If Penelope lied to me and there's no wine here tonight-"

"There's gonna be wine," I insist, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the building. "Rossi always has wine."

///

"You made it!" Rossi grins as he pulls open his front door. "And you've brought Amelia. Good choice," he pulls the two of us in for a hug, prompting Amelia to compliment him on his house. "Alright, you two, into the backyard. Everyone else is already there."

I give Amelia a look as if to shame her for taking so long to get dressed, and she just shoves my shoulder. She murmurs something under her breath that I don’t quite hear, but I wouldn’t have had time to ask anyway because we’ve joined everyone in the backyard a moment.

"Yes!" Garcia immediately cheers, running over as fast as she can on her ridiculously high heels and pulling Amelia into a hug. "I knew it! I knew you'd make it and Reid would tell you about this and you'd get to drink lovely wine with us. I knew it!"

Amelia laughs as she hugs Penelope back, pulling away only to be pulled back in. "It's nice to see you too, P."

"You've gotta meet everyone!" Penelope exclaims and almost spills liquid from the glass I'm realizing is in her hand. I find myself wondering how much she's already had to drink. Amelia glances over her shoulder at me desperately as Garcia drags her away and over to the long table that's set up. She's introduced formally to the team, yet again, along with Savannah, Beth, Sam, Will, and Chris. And of course, she takes the time to introduce herself to Kate. She's always been good at talking to people, unlike me, so a glass of wine is thrust in her hand and she's enveloped in conversation. But I linger on the porch, just admiring how easily she bonds with everyone and how her face lights up when Savannah cracks a joke.

"How's it going, Pretty Boy?" Morgan is at my side, patting my shoulder with a teasing smirk that I saw all day today. He spent the last two days asking me how my medical leave was and if I finally sealed the deal with Amelia. His prying would have considered invasive if I wasn’t so used to it already. "You brought your girl."

"And she's already been taken away from me," I cross my arm, watching her take a long sip of her wine before turning her head to Hotch and Beth. "At least she's getting along with everyone."

"Yeah," Morgan sighs and the mood instantly drops. "Listen, I don't know what happened with the whole situation where Rossi recognized her and-"

"Morgan-" I try to interject, but he shakes his head.

"Kid, I don't wanna know, that's what I'm saying. You two seem to be over it, and if you're happy, then I'm happy for you. You seem to trust her so that’s all that matters. She seems like a good girl for you. She makes you happy."

I turn my gaze back to her and my heart flutters as she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, holding her wine glass in her hand delicately. She looks too beautiful for anyone’s good in her stupid, tight black dress and heels that make her legs look as long as mine. "She does."

"I gotta be honest," he chuckles lightly. "I didn't expect you to shoot for a girl with a nose piercing and two arms of tattoos but I'm not complaining."

"Uncle Spencer!" Our conversation is fully stopped by a little voice, and Henry comes barreling over, having broken away from JJ's hold. My face lights up as he comes jumping into my arms, crouching down to catch him. Morgan pats my shoulder again, heading to the table to leave us alone.

"Hi, Henry!" I exclaim, hugging him tightly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Henry giggles, his head falling onto my shoulder in the most adorable way. "I missed you, Uncle Spencer."

"I missed you too, Henry." I smile, ruffling his hair. He pushes my hands away with a giggle and pushes his own long hair behind his ears. "Did you meet my girlfriend?"

Henry's eyes widen as he lifts his head. "You have a girlfriend?"

I hold in my laugh at his astonishment as I nod, bringing his attention to where Amelia is now standing with Penelope and Sam, chatting away. "That's her, right there. With the blonde hair and the black dress. Her name is Amelia."

Henry lifts his head even more to get a good look at her, and just as he does, Amelia turns her head to look back at us. As she does, Henry gasps and whips his head back to face me. "She saw me!" His eyes widen and he puts his tiny hands on my cheeks. I mimic his surprised expression and I see Amelia excusing herself from her conversation to walk back over to us. Henry turns his head slowly to peer back at her, and when he sees that she's walking to us, he gasps again. "She's coming!"

Amelia gets to us with a huge smile towards Henry, setting her glass of wine on the table. "Hi!"

"Say hi, bud," I prompt as he drops his hands back to my shoulders again. Henry gives me a nervous glance and only turns his head slightly towards Amelia.

"Hi, Amelia," he says, waving just a tiny bit.

"Hi, Henry," Amelia grins. "I've heard a lot about you from Spencer. He tells me that you're the coolest kid he knows."

Henry's eyes light up and a small smile plays at his lips. "He did?"

"Oh yeah, he totally did," she nods confidently. I have to admit, I've never seen her interact with children before, but I could watch this all day. Where did her love of children even come from? Did it come from Cody? Or did it come from protecting her foster siblings from abusive parents? 

Henry is silent for a moment and I can tell he's noticing Amelia's tattoos. He points at her arm. "You've got drawings all over your arms!"

Amelia looks down at her arms as if she's forgotten she has tattoos, nodding "I do. Super cool, right?" Henry nods. "I'm an artist, I drew some of these. So that means I draw and paint pictures as a job.”

"That's awesome!" Henry exclaims, his face lighting up even brighter than before. "Could you draw me some pictures?"

"Of course I could!" Amelia immediately exclaims. "I always have pencils and a sketchbook with me. Let's go, bud," she gives me a cute smile and I place him on the floor, letting the two go off on their own. I watch them for just a moment as Amelia grabs her backpack to pull out her pencils and sketchbook before finding a good place to sit with Henry.

"Wow," JJ is the next person to materialize at my side, "I've never seen him gravitate towards someone so quickly. And I've never seen him leave your side so quick," The two of us watch as Jack runs up and joins the two of them, sitting on Amelia's unoccupied side and peering over her arm at her sketchbook. She greets Jack and then gets back to work, listening to every demand the boys have over what she should draw. "C'mon, Spence, come join everyone."

JJ grabs my arm and drags me over to the table with everyone else, sitting me down beside her. It's nice to see everyone outside of work every once in a while, especially after such a stressful stretch of a few months. I'm not one to admit that I need relaxation but I definitely needed a night like this with everyone. I especially needed a night with my friends and my girlfriend getting along. My biggest fear is that everyone on the team would reject her after her moment with Rossi. But they seem to love her, even the kids love her, and I’m just so relieved.

After a little while, the boys come sprinting over, waving their drawings in their hands as they rave to their parents. Amelia returns to me with a proud smile, claiming the seat next to me and scooting as close as she can. She leans into my chest and I leave a kiss on her temple, and the purr-like sound that she makes brings a smile to my face.

"Dinner," Rossi announces, "is served."

///

"Have you ever played rummy?" I drag my eyes up and down Amelia's body as she comes to sit next to me after helping Rossi with the cleanup of plates. She's got her second glass of wine in her hand and my jacket wrapped around her shoulders, hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. She starting scooting closer to me during dinner, and it took me all of a millisecond to realize that she was cold and when she told me that she was wrong about not needing a jacket, I happily gave her mine.

"No, actually. I haven't. Will you teach me?" She presses her face into my arm, one of her hands clutching her glass of wine and the other finding home on my thigh. I have to resist the urge to squirm around when her thumb strokes my leg atop my pants. I’ve noticed that she has been nursing her second glass of wine for quite a while so it’s unlikely she is too drunk to realize the effect her touch is having on me. But she doesn’t really pay any attention to it when I shift my position in my chair.

"Yeah, of course," I clear my throat and grab our little stack of cards, spreading them out in my hands. I look down at Amelia to find she’s already looking at me. Her eyes are half shut and her lips are pouted just slightly, enough to make it necessary for me to lean down and kiss her. "And you've got the best teacher, too."

"Pretty boy's banned from casinos in, as I remember it, Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump," Morgan interjects, earning a slap on the arm from Savannah for interrupting.

"So we need to be collecting cards based on the rounds," I tell her and she nods. "For the first round, we need to sets of threes, get it? We need two sets of three cards with the same number, any suit, red or black."

"Not too hard," she takes a sip of her drink and starts silently arranging the cards in my hands as I've instructed. I go on to explain the concept of taking cards out of turn and then how to lay down cards and then how to win a round. She's nodding but I'm not sure if she's retaining any of this information, but I could win this game blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back so it's not a big deal. All I’m worried about is Amelia keeping her hands on me and getting her home soon.

The game starts and we take the lead immediately, but it’s not like anyone is surprised. And it takes about an hour but, sure enough, Amelia and I win rummy. The win is followed by rolled eyes and groans, and a few stolen kisses between us when everyone starts cleaning up. It's odd, I think, to have someone to be affectionate with during a team dinner. I've spent years being alone at team dinners and I've watched everyone with their significant others and wished I could have that. But now I've got the most amazing girl at my side who I'm head over heels in love with who I'm certain I'm gonna have for the rest of my life.

"Spence?" Amelia's soft voice breaks me out of my lovestruck daze. She places her empty wine glass in the sink beside me, pulling my jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Are we leaving?"

I smile, nodding as I run my hands up and down her arms. "Yeah," I dig into my pocket and hand her my keys, "get in the car. I've gotta ask Rossi a work question and I'll be right out. Don't drive away.”

“I won’t,” she giggles, going up on her toes to kiss me. Her lips taste like wine and her tongue tastes like chocolate and it’s such an intoxicating taste that I kiss her like we’re not in the middle of Rossi’s kitchen. Amelia’s hands come up to my stomach, grasping my shirt for a split second before she pulls away. Her hands come up to my face and her thumb swipes away a little bit of lip gloss from the corner of my mouth before she abruptly turns on her heel and struts away. I watch her hips sway when she walks, all the way until she gets to JJ and Henry, saying goodbye and exchanging phone numbers with the ladies of my team.

Once Amelia is out of my sight, I make my way down the hallway and into Rossi’s office, closing the door behind me.

AMELIA

I collapse into the passenger seat of Spencer’s car, putting the keys in the ignition and turning the heat up. I tug my shoes off and toss them onto the floor, spreading out my toes and stretching them out for the first time in hours. The driver side door opens a second later and Spencer slips in, watching me massage my feet for a second. “I don’t know why you insist on wearing those everywhere if they just make your feet hurt.”

“Because they complete the whole outfit, bubs,” I sass right back at him as we both put on our seatbelts. “Are we going back to my apartment or yours?”

“Yours, if that’s okay. I have my go-bag so I can change before work tomorrow,” Spencer puts the car into drives and speeds off. I can’t take my eyes off of him when he drives. The way his biceps flex as he grips the wheel or the way he elongates his neck when he looks over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. 

When he stops at a red light, he reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh, the same way I had done to him during cards. Spencer smiles over at me with the most innocent look, and it almost takes my breath away. I open my mouth to speak but he starts driving before I can say anything. His hand tightens and releases its grip every few seconds, and by the time we arrive at my apartment, I’m barely able to sit straight. I practically trip out of the car and hurry upstairs, Spencer hot on my heels. 

The tension that we’ve been building the last few hours is looming over us, and as we stroll up the stairs to my bedroom, I can feel Spencer staring me down. I do what I can to ignore his burning gaze but the attention is addicting and it feels involuntary when I sway my hips in the same way that got him a little too excited before. 

Once we reach the top step, Spencer’s hand grasp onto my waistline and he pulls me into his chest. He ducks his head to place a kiss on the side of my neck, already reaching to pull his jacket off of my body. “Is this okay?” He murmurs, lips brushing against my skin.

“Yes,” I roll my shoulders back to let the jacket fall to the floor, then I twist around in Spencer’s arms to start pulling at his shirt. I tug him towards the bed and fall backwards, bringing him down with me. He catches himself before he bares all of his weight on me, sitting up on his knees and staing down at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“Are you sure this is okay? I know you were drinking tonight and I don’t want to take advantage.”

“I’m not drunk and you’re not taking advantage,” I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, feeling him shuffle around to undo the buttons of his shirt and toss it onto the ground. His shoes, socks, and belt follow, and when he is almost completely undressed, he pulls away from my lips. 

His fingers trail up my thgihs and to the hem of my dress, slowly pushing it upwards. My breath hitches as the dress gets to my hips, and Spencer immediately stops. “Do you not want me to take your dress off? I can leave it on.”

“No, well, I-”

“No?”

“Yes!” I place my hands on Spencer’s shoulders and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. Spencer’s hands move from the hem of my dress to my waistline. “I just, well, I usually keep a shirt or a sweater on when I have sex. It’s just-”

“You don’t have to take your clothes off if you don’t want to. We don’t even need to continue if you’re uncomfortable,” Spencer leans down to press a kiss to my nose, and that tiny act brings a smile to my face. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I parrot his sweet words, leaning up on my elbows to peck his lips. “I trust you.” It’s more of a statement for me then for Spencer. I just needed to reassure myself that this is my Spencer. My Spencer who stumbled over his words when we first met and my Spencer who still sometimes asks just to kiss me. He’s not like the other assholes I’ve dealt with. He’s special.

So I wiggle from under Spencer and stand at the foot of the bed. I’m flustered for a second as Spencer lays on his back and tucks his hands behind his head, his chest completely on display for me. But I drag myself away from my thoughts and unzips my dress, letting it fall to the floor with trembling hands. And while I have the tiniest bit of confidence in myself, I unclip my bra and let it join my dress.

Spencer’s face grows into a grin, sitting up and grasping my waist again. His touch calms all my nerves and momentarily makes me forget that he’s the first man to ever see me like this. He’s the first man I’ve ever let myself be completely vulnerable around. He is the first person I let see my scars and my piercings and as terrifying as it is, his soft gaze makes my anxiety drift away.

He traces his fingers over one of the scars on my stomach, then drags it down to the silver jewel in my bellybutton. “I didn’t know you had piercings.” I reclaim my spot on Spencer’s lap and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing my lips down to his in an attempt to silence the conversation. It works because Spencer is shimmying out of his pants and tossing them haphazardly away.

Spencer flips us over so I’m pinned under him, his lips traveling down to the metal bars in my nipples. “You’re so beautiful, Lia.” He presses his lips to each and every scar on my stomach before grazing his teeth on the hem of my panties. “You can tell me if you ever want to stop, okay?”

I really and truly never thought I’d ever fall in love with someone like Spencer. I never thought that I’d fall in love at all. I thought that all men would be like the asshole I lost my virginity to, who laughed at my crooked bellybutton ring and asked countless questions about the scars that I didn’t want to talk about. 

I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man above me right now. I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man who kisses me with every thrust of his hips and brushes my hair behind my ears and listens to the way my body speaks. He double and triple checks that the condom is on correctly and asks if I need to use lube. He touches me in every spot that craves attention and switches our position when my legs cramp up. He intertwines our fingers and circles my clit when I ask him to. Spencer is the sweetest lover and, even when we’ve both worked our bodies to exhaustion, he rolls over and presses kisses over the hickeys he left on my neck. I try to lift myself on my elbows to clean myself up, but Spencer pushes my shoulders back down. He tells me to stay there, then returns from the bathroom with a towel to clean me up. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer wonders, pulling the duvet over the both of us after tossing the towel back into the bathroom. “Do you need anything?”

I roll onto my side and bury my face in Spencer’s neck, still struggling to catch my breath. “Spencer, no man has ever made me cum. Ever. Much less three times.”

Spencer furrows his eyebrows, pushing my hair out of my face and tracing his fingers over the bruises on my neck. “Was it too much?”

“No! Oh my god, no, dove. That was absolutely amazing,” I pull his hand away from my neck and kiss his palm, scooting as close as I possibly can to his body and soak up the warmth that radiates off of him. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.” Spencer presses a kiss to my swollen lips and even though his body language does the opposite, he pulls away from me. “I hate to ruin the moment but you should go to the bathroom. You’re more likely to get a UTI and if a UTI goes untreated it can cause a kidney infection. It’s a common myth to think that a UTI can turn into an STI like chlamydia, but that’s completely not true.”

I hold back my giggle, running my fingers through Spencer’s sweaty hair, pushing it away from his eyes the same way he does to me. “Dirty talk is your strong suit.” 

“Is that sarcasm?” Spencer raises his eyebrows at me as I start to climb out of bed and wander towards the bathroom. “Was it not good?”

“I’m only joking, sweet face. You were amazing. The best I’ve ever had.”

Spencer grins the proudest grin I’ve ever seen. “Really?”

“I just told you that no man has ever made me cum but that you made me cum three times. Yes, you’re the best.”

“Hmm,” he hums, falling onto his back again and tucking his hands behind his head, “yeah. I’m the best.”

I lean over the bed one more time and kiss Spencer’s cheek. “You’re adorable, dove.”

TAGLIST

@bxnnywriting​ @babybloodstonebones​ @blameitonthenight21​ @feralreid​ @anepiphany​ @goldenalvez​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrryspencer​ @m0rcia​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @blakes-dictionxry​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @jasongideonapologist​

[m-oana-archive]

A Love Too Heavy (For Just One to Hold) pt. 2

catch up on pt. 1

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader x Remus Lupin

Words: 2,595

Summary: After pining after Y/N for years, Sirius finally gets the girl: the happy ending the story is supposed to end with.  The only problem is the fact Sirius’ feelings for Remus still haven’t seemed to go away.  But he isn’t the only one starting to question their ability to love two people at the same time.

requester: @shinysilverunicorn-blog  | read on AO3 | Masterlist

Remus’ POV 

Y/N was looking effortlessly sunkissed when she entered the library.  Remus, ever the early bird, was already at their usual table waiting.  Books were out, parchment unrolled.  But he didn’t actually begin working, just had the illusion of doing such, so that he could seem as though he was caught off guard by looking up and seeing Y/N, instead of her knowing the truth of his patient waiting for her.  About halfway across the library to their table, they caught eyes.  Y/N smiled at him, and he tapped his inked quill so quickly against the parchment he felt some blue splatter onto the back of his hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized, even though it was Remus that was early, and both of them knew it.

Remus smirked.  “What’s the expression?  A queen is never late?”

“Ha ha,” she mocked, sliding into her chair to unpack her things.  “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not looking to run a country, just pass my N.E.W.T.’s.  Not all Slytherins are that ambitious.”  

“I could see you as royalty,” Remus said, sinking back into his chair, dramatizing the act of envisioning, enjoying that it made Y/N blush and giggle slightly.  

“Well, Sirius is already basically royalty, so that helps.”

Remus scoffed, annoyance masking other emotions.  “If that’s not true I’m not sure what is.”  

While Remus found his comment funny, something dark fell across Y/N’s face, causing her to teeter in her chair and purse her lips.  Remus’ mind scanned the exchange for anything he could have done wrong, but couldn’t find anything.  So, he went to ask what was wrong.  Before he could, she answered.

“Speaking of, you’re not mad at Sirius or anything, right?”

Every bone in Remus turned into brick.  Was it fair to say to Sirius’ girlfriend, the obvious messenger of this information, that he didn’t know?  Was it fair to say to Sirius’ girlfriend, the cause of this frustration, that he wasn’t sure where the anger was pointed at?  Was it fair to his best friend to say everything he wanted to, after hiding for so long, just to end up at more questions, ones he didn’t know the answers to?  

No.  So Remus settled with a rather choked up, “Why would I be mad?”

“He said you two were arguing.  Something small that turned into a bigger deal than it needed to be.”

Oh.  So that’s what he thinks of me saying I want him.

Remus cleared his throat, though he knew it wouldn’t help and it didn’t.  “Oh, yeah.  Um, I’m over it on a logical level.  I’m just waiting for my emotions to catch up.”

“Cool,” she smiled brightly.  “Sirius said almost the same.”

All of the furniture in the library seemed to topple over for a second.  Maybe it was the fact that Remus squinted when he thought, and everything was following the motion of the spiral of his eyelids.  Or, maybe, it was the fact that Y/N has just said Sirius wasn’t over their possibility of kissing either.  How close they had been; if Remus just leaned in slightly, it would have been breath on breath, lips on lips, with the same softness but necessity of the moonlight echoing itself onto the lake.  Was Sirius covering up the same truth Remus had been aching with for the last year?  Ever since that stupid game of spin the bottle, when Remus realized it wasn’t cockiness that made him wish the bottle would have pointed to his body on Sirius’ turn, but desire.  The hope that if Sirius would have been forced to kiss him, maybe, after doing so, it would turn into something he missed, something he longed for, something he wanted to repeat.

That was what happened to Remus, after all.

It was a tall order, though, asking Sirius to switch adorations overnight.  Sirius had yearned over Y/N so deeply and thoroughly—Remus once found a scrap of a love poem while cleaning, which caused him pain both from its cheesiness and from a jealousy he had yet to name—it was hard to imagine him loving someone else.  Especially someone as ugly and flawed in comparison to her.

Sitting with her here, now, and every time before this, Remus couldn’t blame Sirius for wanting to be with her.  She seemed to have the best parts of all of them: Sirius’ mindless beauty, James’ massive heart, Peter’s agreeability, and Remus’ quickness.  And then, of course, all of the wonderful qualities that were definitively hers.  There were fleeting times in their shared sanctuary of the library that Remus forgot Sirius and his feelings for him.  Where, in the privacy of their similarities, Remus forgot he could be happy with anyone except Y/N.  

To restrain complications, he labeled those moments as I’m that happy because I’m forgetting about Sirius, or My feelings for Sirius are valid because of how happy she is with him.  There was a third option, of course, but that thought was a rainstorm he didn’t want to walk into.  

“Cool,” he agreed.  He smiled back at Y/N, genuinely because he was happy to be with her, but also with a certain grittiness, because he was too conflicted to be happy in general.  The hidden indifference of it seemed to set the tone for the rest of the meeting, which was far more focused and serious than ones they had had more recently.  So focused, in fact, neither noticed the sunset streaking the sky, followed by black falling around outside.

The next interruption was hours later, by Ms. Greenpaw, the librarian about to retire.  Remus adored her instantly; she wore thick, circular coral glasses and called everyone “honey,” even when upset.  He wasn’t sure if it was the hours they spent in the library, Ms. Greenpaw’s looming retirement, or both, but Remus and Y/N were granted an extra set of magical keys to close the library up if she left before they did.

“Hi, you two,” she said, pulling Remus’ head out of his book.  “Well, I’m headed out for the night.  I spelled off most of the candles in here, but I can put more on if you need more.”

Remus looked up; Ms. Greenpaw wasn’t kidding: every chandelier and sconce was dark except the one over their heads and one near the grand doors.  Something inside of him said this was romantic, making him ready to deny, until—

“I’m perfectly fine,” Y/N responded.  “Remus?”

He blanked for a moment.  “Yeah, uh… my eyes are already so tired, the softer light is actually pretty nice.”

“Wonderful!  Well, I’ll leave you both to it, then.”

Y/N called out a note of thanks to Ms. Greenpaw as she walked off—something Remus was still too startled to do.  As soon as the doors closed, promising their security, Y/N sofly said Remus’ name.  He looked up to her, eyes still slightly narrowed from reading his book.  

“You’ve been so quiet,” she said.  She wouldn’t meet his eyes fully, her focus refusing to settle.  “I know you don’t usually have issues with Sirius, and you’d think that I’m probably the last person who’d want to hear them fully, since we’re dating.  But I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets from me.  You’re still my best friend.”

She shifted in her seat before continuing: “I know something’s changed since I started dating Sirius.  You’ve been more closed off.  I don’t want to pretend I know why.  So if you want to talk about it, I’m still here for you.”

A new guilt rose inside of Remus; he had experienced regret from having feelings for Sirius, for those feelings not disappearing the moment Sirius and Y/N got together, and for not knowing the difference between jealousy and desire.  But, he had never fathomed that the closed-off-ness he developed while trying to suppress his dangerous emotions would make Y/N believe he no longer trusted her.

The thought was so overwhelming he immediately said, “You’re one of the most important people in the world to me.  And I…” He tilted his head down, unable to bear even her dim silhouette.  “I didn’t mean to hide.  But it’s better that way.  Trust me.”

“Remus, nothing can be bad enough I don’t care to know.”

Remus considered the gravity of her statement for a second.  Obviously, she couldn’t blame him for loving Sirius.  But what would she think of him not knowing how he felt about her?  Not understanding how those could exist at the same time?  It seemed impossible.  

“No,” Remus decided at once.  He got up the next instant, sloppily swiping his belongings into his bookbag.  “No.  It is bad enough.”

He heard his name being called from across the table, but was off, walking so quickly to the door he was almost running.  He heard books sliding across wood, a chair scraping against the floor, a sound that must have been Y/N’s shoes hitting the tile behind him in quick succession, suggesting she was sprinting to catch up to him.  But his focus on the door was relentless.  Then, there was a tug on his arm that couldn’t be ignored.  Out of the surprise of it, his body spiraled around itself: an effect Y/N must not have had anticipated, as she continued moving forwards, resulting in her running into Remus head-on.

“Y/N,” he gasped.  He tried to steady her, but she did so first by clutching onto the shirt fabric around Remus’ chest.  Out of some instinct that could not be named, Remus felt his hand moving, fingers gripping around her wrist.

After a few moments of catching her breath, Y/N looked up at Remus.  It was only at that moment that Remus recognized how close they were to one another.  She already had her hands on him, softening them as she became more stable, and he became dizzier.  Especially with the single light behind her, distant now, which made what could happen next seem like a secret capable of keeping, a risk worth taking, a mistake worth making.  The world was the way the candlelight shone upon her face, making Remus’ hand twitch with the desire to trace those shadows.

“Y/N,” he said.  But it was different this time.  

She looked up at him.  At his eyes.  At his lips.  Remus was going to die right there, in the middle of the library, a corpse good for nothing except loving people he could not bear the affections of.  But then, her gaze dropped to the floor.  Her voice wavered.  “Remus, I just…”

“I know,” he sighed, nodding in defeat.  There were things Remus knew he excelled at—school, not getting in trouble for pranks, hiding the fact he is a werewolf—but in some aspects of life, he had to accept he would always be second to Sirius Black.  This was one of them.  His corpse was back to being good for nothing except loving people he could not have.  

“But you really don’t.  It’s not… this has nothing to do with you.  Alright?  I just need you to know that much.”

“Thanks for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech,” Remus scowled.  “How comforting.  I’m touched.”  He wanted to put his hand to his heart for dramatic effect, but Y/N’s hands were still on his chest.  Regardless of how he knew the length of time they stayed there would make their release all the more painful, Remus wanted them to stay, the pathetic idiot he was.  

“It’s not like that,” Y/N said.  “I just can’t do that to Sirius.  To be honest, I think I’m in love with him.  And I think he might feel the same.”

Remus scoffed: Y/N saying Sirius might love her was the understatement of the century.  But he didn’t focus on that.  He couldn’t.  Instead, what intrigued him was this thought: “So, in the condition, you weren’t with Sirius, you’d kiss me.  Is that what you’re saying?”

Remus was surprised at how calm his voice came out; he was even more surprised, however, by how panicked Y/N’s was.  “Listen… it’s just that I may have had a massive thing for you when we first met, and for a bit afterward.”  Remus was sad and elated all at once; to know he could be loved was revolutionary, but realizing he had missed his chance with the girl he now was mad for was an emptiness that was beginning to slowly eat him from the inside out.

He covered all of the sinews of his emotions with anger: “So what you’re saying is that you only chose Sirius because I wasn’t available?”

“No,” Y/N demanded.  She yanked her hands back to her own body: a testament to her level of frustration.  “I didn’t go to him because I was sad and lonely and heartbroken and wanted to use him.  I liked him at the same time as you.  I just couldn’t figure out who I liked more.  You took yourself out of the running, so I accepted his invitation to Hogsmeade.  And I’m happy I did.”

Remus blinked, dazed.  “Can you say that again?”

“Why?  You heard me.”

“No, just the part—”

“The part where I refuted your claim that I only wanted to date Sirius because I couldn’t date you, which, if I would have done, would make me a rude, selfish, manipulative person?”

“I didn’t…” Remus struggled, biting the bottom of his lip in agony, wishing he could bring her closer so she could see the blood that was sure to come up, how much he hated himself for having said that.  “I didn’t mean that.  Okay?  I’ve been such a git today.  I’ve been completely awful to you.  I’m sorry for saying that, and for making you think I didn’t trust you.  I’m just… I’m really confused about some things right now.  And I’m taking it out on you.  I’m sorry.”  

Suddenly, all of the anger, the screaming, the vehemence disappeared, leaving nothing but a quietness strong enough to drive any man crazy.  Remus stood as Y/N considered him, her thoughts impossible to know.  She kept looking and thinking.  Remus was just standing.  It felt like forever.

She finally spoke.  “I don’t want to force anything out of you,” she said, words were spoken with meticulous care that echoed what they meant.  “I just think that maybe you’re exploding because you’re bottling things up, and nothing can be figured out if it’s never put out into the world to be understood.”

Remus wanted to protest, but every part of his body that wasn’t his mouth knew that Y/N was right, so he couldn’t.  Instead, he shook his head.  “I don’t think you’re going to like what you are going to hear.”

“We’ve already fought,” Y/N shrugged.  “If it’s bad enough it’s doing that, I think we’ve got to just rip the bandaid off.”

Remus breathed in deeply, closing his eyes.  There were so many confusing truths inside of his body; if someone were to put his tears in a Pensieve, all that would be floating around were thoughts of Y/N and Sirius, together, apart, in love, in love with him.  He saw them all right now in the black of his eyelids.  But how many to say now?  Which to choose first?

Some part of Remus that wasn’t his mind answered for him.

“Y/N, I have feelings for Sirius.”

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

PART THREE IS AVAILABLE NOW!!! Read here. 

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @astertist @beskarjedi @bluemadcnna @boring-viola @carolinesbookworld @finnofamerica @fortisfiliae @gabriel-r3ap3r-reyes @gryffndor @jamcspotters @just-some-nerd @lonelyheart-jadedsoul @neewtmas @portkeys-and-prose @siriusement @siriuslyimmoony @sly-vixen-up2nogood @swellwriting @the-apple-princess @theboywhocriedlupin @who-cares-unknown @woakiees @wzardings @samcycle @luckygirl144

[afterhoursfic]

I loved the prompt with Eredin using Geralt, Eskel and Lambert to keep his army happy. I was wondering if you could write something in that setting, but from Eskel and Lambert's point of view. Especially a scene with Eskel and Caranthir. I bet Caranthir would especially like to show up the witcher who thought he could challenge him one on one. Thank you!

Warning: non con, mind control, choking

I know you asked for both but I didn’t think t worked switching pov’s so this is just Eskels viewpoint.

I hope you like it, I know it’s kinda long (I need to be stopped I swear) but yeah.

Part 1

.

The last thing he remembered was that he was fighting, the lot of them being pushed back further and further into the keep and their demise all but inevitable and then it all goes cold and black.

When he wakes in an unfamiliar area, he has about enough sense to keep his heartbeat unchanged as he listens and peeks for anything new that had happened. He catches enough snippets to know he isn’t in friendly territory, but the one silver lining is that their fight wasn’t all for naught, Ciri escaped, they’d kept her safe for a little longer and that was all that mattered to him then.

It’s another day or so of fading in and out of sleep, not willing to let their captors know he was awake when he feels Geralt stir beside to him and it’s only when he hears cheering and jeering from the multitude of warriors around them, likely from another fight where they pitted their hounds against each other that he told his brother what he knew.

Lambert woke not long after and after a murmured cuss fell silent for probably the first time in his life, of course, it didn’t last long.

They can hear them approach long before the elves reach them, their heavily booted feet not allowing for much stealth, but which makes the kick to his gut all the more painful.

The three of them are roused from their feigned sleep and he watches Lambert spit towards Imlerith, the action earning his brother a hard smack to his jaw on the back of a metal gauntlet and forces himself to remain still as he watches Lambert fall to the side, can smell the blood in his air when he’s forced back onto his knees.

Of course, this doesn’t stop Lambert from spewing out his all too famous sarcasm, one which they all had tolerated and even enjoyed at the keep, but here just earned his brother another smack to his jaw, but to give him credit, he was impressed when Lambert simply laughed, something dark and slightly manic as he got himself back up and stared back at the hunt with fire in his eyes.

The look Lambert got from the commanders was enough to make even him shiver, but his brother was unfazed and stared back with his own look of ire and hatred, another insult about mothers and elves and manhood’s falling unbidden from his mouth. He was both proud and cussing out his brother in that moment, the witcher had balls to be sure, ones which would likely get them all killed if he wasn’t more careful.

As such Lambert’s comment would have earned him another slap from Imlerith if not for Eredin’s hand on his shoulder stopping him at the last moment, and that was perhaps one of the more worrying parts of the whole encounter.

After that they’re not given nearly as much free reign, as in they're given none, every now and then they’re forced awake and a vial shoved past their lips and the contents shoved down their throats, hands blocking his nose and mouth to stop his breathing to ensure he drank the whole thing. It didn’t take a genius to know magic was at play, his brothers may not know it, but he could feel the telltale crackle and the way it seemed to settle in the air and he definitely tried not to linger on the fact that his doses were almost twice that of his brothers.

It’s a nameless few days later when they’re roused from their induced slumber and all he feels is groggy and disorientated that he doesn’t even have the mind to try and shove off the hands lifting him so that he once again sat beside his brothers, the wild hunt in front of them and the commanders looking a mix of both disgruntled and overly pleased.

Apparently, with each day that goes by with no sign of Ciri, the less the three of them are of use to the army and he spares a look at his brothers fully prepared that this would be it, that this would be the end for all of them, but that wouldn’t matter because Ciri was safe.

At least that was until Geralt took a page from Lambert’s book and decided to spit at the leader of the wild hunt, a bold move and he anticipates the sharp slap to his brother's face before he sees the elf bring his hand back to swing.

Only then he watches Geralt still, and he can feel the magic in the air, how it suffocates them and he watches as Geralt crawls forward a little before he’s pulling Eredin’s cock out of his breeches and is making quick work of shoving it as far down his throat as he could, the only sounds of Geralt’s labored breathing, the way he chokes around the elf’s cock and the wet squelch as said elf fucked into his brother's mouth whilst the others jeer him on.

He wants to look at Lambert, to try and derive any form of comfort from their predicament just by making sure he was safe, but he realized he couldn’t, he was fixed in place, forced to watch his brother be used for sex by an army intent on killing the girl that was practically his daughter.

He can’t imagine how Geralt must be feeling or what he’s thinking as watches Eredin pull out to leisurely stroke his cock and paint his brother’s face with come as he laughed and stepped away. At first, he thought that was it, for now at least, but a gasp from Geralt had him turn his gaze to watch as Lambert began to paw at their brother’s dick and it was all he could do to fight the uncomfortable tug in his mind likely trying to get him to do the same.

Still, he remains kneeling in the dirt, fighting for control over his own mind and body, and for a moment he thinks he’s done it, that somehow they don’t have the means to do it, but then there’s a vice-like grip in his head that has him wince, whether it’s from pressure or just how cold it feels, almost as if he was a boy back at Kaer Morhen and his friends had buried and pinned his head into the snow.

His resolve may have been glass with how easy it broke and he was forced to look up, Caranthir smirking and with a hand extended towards him before he felt that cold pressure in his head again, and a voice accompanying it.

“I won't let you go this time, little wolf”

All he could do was watch as he crawled forward, closer towards his brothers where Lambert was now sucking at Geralt’s dick whilst his brother moaned wantonly into the chill air, and then he was licking the come clean off Geralt’s face. He probably would have gagged if his mind was his own but as it was all he did groan and continue to kitten lick the drying come as if it was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.

Suddenly his hands are pulling at Geralt’s breeches, his ass and even delivering a harsh smack across which just has Geralt whining as he smacks him again and again until his skin is painted red. He doesn’t know how but suddenly he finds oil in his hands and then his fingers are pressing into Geralt’s hole, two at first, then three then four until he’s pushing his dick part his brother’s rim without so much as slicking himself, but when he hears Geralt cry out and Lambert choking it’s clear that right now his brother doesn’t so much mind the rough treatment.

He doesn’t go easy, his hips fucking up eagerly into the tight heat of his brother’s hole and can’t help but come when he feels fingers pressing past Geralt’s rim as well, pressed along his cock and making it so much tighter. He does so again when a minute later he feels Lambert pushing his cock in alongside his, all he can think is tight and hot, and wet even if it is his come and finally he comes a third time alongside Lambert while Geralt begs and pleads for more between them.

It’s after Geralt’s come for a second time on just their cocks that they finally part, but still there is no respite, he watches Imlerith approach Lambert looking far too happy, a tight grip on the witcher’s jaw whilst telling him he can finally have a good use for his mouth.

He supposed he should’ve expected the icy chill that invaded his mind again and he was paralyzed as Caranthir approached him only to stroke a hand through his hair and down his face to finally cup his jaw before using his thumb to pull at his bottom lip.

“You fought well little wolf it’s just as well I didn’t kill you then, you’ll look a lot prettier on my cock then my blade” He wants to shudder, wants to pull away and fight but he’s stuck kneeling and unable to resist when he’s forced to open his mouth and stick his tongue out, the laugh from the elf in front doing nothing to settle his nerves “Eager aren’t we? Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of use for your mouth later, but right now I think this little wolf needs to learn his place”

He doesn’t want to move, and thankfully doesn’t have to, the elf resorting to physically maneuvering him onto his hands and knees, likely in some attempt to establish dominance in both regards, physical and mental, not that he can really put up a fight in either though as his face is shoved into the dirt of the clearing, neck bent awkwardly and arms splayed at his sides which doesn’t allow for any comfort, likely intentional as he feels the commander curl over his back, the cool weight of his armor enough to send a shiver through him even through the mind spell.

Through some blessing, he’s able to dissociate enough to ignore whatever the elf was spewing at him and the bruising touches to what felt like every inch of him, but that may have just been the spell binding him to the elf’s will. He’s fine until he feels two fingers being roughly shoved into his hole and he wants to cry out, but when his mouth opens a hoarse moan comes out instead and he can feel his dick twitch under him, shame filling him at the fact before he feels the fingers be removed and the feel of warm spit at his hole before suddenly he can feel the blunt cock head of the elf pressing against his hole.

He didn’t know what he had expected, he didn’t expect to be treated well but better than this at least to try and extend his use to them, but it was clear that they couldn’t care less, happy to use him however they saw fit until eventually he gave out, if they ever let him live that long to begin with.

Caranthir shoves into him with one thrust, letting out a groan and praising how tight he was before quickly fucking into him, all he could feel was the pain as he was split open on the elf’s cock, able to feel every thick inch of it as it pounded into him again and again and he was somewhat mortified to realize that when the elf reached a hand down to his cock that he was hard, and not only that but practically drooling precome onto the grass below him.

For a moment, as pain lances up his spine whilst Caranthir fucks him relentlessly, his cock a constant aching pressure in his ass, he feels his magic build up in him, not enough to do any serious damage but he can feel it tingle at the back of his mind and whilst he can’t physically cast the sign somehow his body, his mind, whatever the fuck it is knows and quickly casts as aard.

Nothing outwardly changes, he can feel Caranthir’s thrusts falter for a moment, feel the grip on him loosen just slightly but most notably is the small bit of freedom afforded his mind. For a moment he feels warmth and draws from it as much as he can, hell he could even flex his fingers just barely, but his revelation was short lived as the ice returned, making his mind and body numb as he fell lax under the body over him.

“I’m impressed wolf, you would have made a fine addition to my collection if you weren’t so defiled with children’s magic” It was then he felt an armored hand rest at the back oh his head, the sharp claws in the place of fingers digging painfully into his scalp and serving to shove his head deeper into the dirt.

It’s then that he also felt something warm and wet hit his face and he realized he’d been spit on again, this time over the scars littering his face, normally he’d feel shame, humiliated at the treatment but now he was forced to welcome it as he felt a second hand rake nails down his back and he could feel the warmth of blood spill out and cover his skin, his attempt to jerk away instead had him lean into the touch with a whine “All you’re good for now is to be a tight little cocksleeve begging for cock”

He moaned and clenched down on the elf’s cock which somehow fucked into him even harder, reached even deeper, that he felt his breath catch with every thrust as if the air was being pushed out of him, the elf’s cock hollowing a space inside his body just for him and he let out an unbidden moan at the thought.

The next thing he knew there was a hand around his throat, and he was being hauled up to straddle the elf’s lap and without taking a moment to adjust to the new angle, not that he wanted too. He found himself using the hand on his neck for balance as he eagerly fucked himself on the commander’s dick, feeling himself grind down onto the elf’s lap to feel his dick reach impossibly deep into him that he lost all breath between that and the hand on his throat that had since taken to squeezing lightly and found himself gasping for air.

He felt one of Caranthir’s fingers gently trace up and down his torso, the only thing gentle in this whole scenario as he feels himself shiver even as he continues riding the elf’s cock with an almost desperate need now, and it’s not much longer that the elf is moving to meet his thrusts, pumping his cock into him at a brutal pace that he’s sure is going to bruise or tear but his body will only supply the words of ‘more’ and ‘harder’ and god he would much rather be fighting a zeugl in a waste heap than be here right now.

Being sat up he can make out his brothers, still being used just like he is, Geralt is sat on one elf’s dick whilst he strokes two others and Lambert still has Imlerith fucking into his throat, a constant drool of come leaving his mouth to drip and pool into his lap, and from the looks of it he’s been forced to come at least once already, whilst another warrior is palming his younger brother’s ass, leaving no doubt to his intentions.

“Look at how eager the three of you are for our cocks, soon we won’t even need the magic for you to beg us to fuck you” He feels disgust coil in his gut not only at the feel of the elf behind him, or his breath brushing against his ear making his hairs stand on end, but also his words, he knows that he would never willingly subject himself to this, his brothers neither, and that they would all sooner die than carry on with this charade, but it doesn't stop the elf behind him, who has firm hands on his hips and is moving him up and down on his cock like he’s nothing but a toy, a hole to be used, and he supposes right now it’s true “Maybe our precious little Cirilla will find you and decide you look happier on my cock than in her care”

He shuddered then, a mix of the words and the ever tightening hand around his throat but the elf didn’t relent ”Maybe that’s why Destiny gave you Cirilla, because at the end of the day the only thing you’re good for is taking a cock like a good little bitch”

It’s then he feels the ice in his mind sink lower, travel down his spine and causing him to shiver before he feels it coil in his gut and then suddenly he’s coming with a shout, his face promptly shoved back into the ground as Caranthir fucks into him with abandon, a low growl coming from the elf’s chest as he almost literally drives him into the ground with the force of his thrusts, whilst all he’s able, no forced to do, is whisper the elf’s name over and over as if in worship.

He loses track of time for a moment, the only thing he can focus on is the chill making his mind and body numb and the cock shoving all other thought away with every harsh thrust into him, feeling nothing but pain as his prostate is abused but all he can do is moan as he feels himself clench around the elf’s cock, hears him hiss behind him as Caranthir’s thrust falter for a moment before changing his angle to fuck even deeper, to force even more sounds from him again.

Somehow he comes again, he’s pretty sure he wasn’t even hard but a sudden sharp wave of pleasure crashed through him, made him see white as his hole practically milked Caranthir’s cock as he came with a groan, thrusts slowing so that he could milk the feeling of his tight hole around him before stilling.

He feels decidedly worn out, tired and aching all over but he’s not given a respite as he’s forced back onto the elf’s lap, his cock still pumping come into him, whilst a hand returns to his throat, not choking him or anything, but just as a weight against his skin as if a threat. Not that he really had the ability to do anything anyway.

“I meant what I said, a few days more and we won’t need the spells to have you hanging off our cocks” As a witcher, he has rarely felt fear, but this could be marked down as one of the few times he has, and all he could do was fight against it and hoped he could survive, his brothers as well “Looks like someone wants your mouth little wolf, be a good boy and open up for them”

It’s only then he’s noticed the figure approaching, helpless but to reach forward, already mouthing at the hard line of the warrior’s cock through his clothes as he removes said pants, not just that but he felt Caranthir thrust into him again, sure the elf hadn’t even gone soft as he quickly began to fuck up into him again, pain lancing up his spine as he moaned around the cock he was swallowing deeper and deeper down his throat until he wanted to gag, but some other force wouldn’t allow it.

He just hoped the three of them, he and his brothers, would come out of this alive.

[writer-k-pop]

ID Card- Part 2

생각할 것이 많다. There’s a lot to think about.

Description: Living as a pretty successful Youtuber and a KQ employee has it’s ups and downs. There are stresses about trying to make sure your identity and actual job are left private but for the most part it’s enjoyable. KQ has offered you a plan to make your Youtube career a full time gig and you’re still unsure on whether or not you should take it. But losing your ID at work may prove more helpful than you imagined. Warnings:None Genre: Fluff, A Day in the Life Word Count: 2.2k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

-Two weeks later- *Your POV*

“Cameras in here please!” I call for the staff to bring the equipment into the room. “Are they ready?” I ask one of the make up staffs.

She shakes her head. “Hongjoong would not leave the studio so he was late getting to makeup.”

I check the time on my phone and nod, “Can you send in whichever one gets done first so we can match the lights?”

She nods and leaves the room.

I turn around the make sure the set up is going smoothly. Today’s set is for an ‘A ChallenZ’ video with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. They are doing a little Q&A type of video.

“(y/n), how far do you want the table?” One of the staff asks standing behind the white table.

I move behind the camera and check the table’s placement, “Bring it towards me a little. Riiiiiiiight there.”

“Seonghwa’s here.” A voice says from the doorway and I sort of register what she said as I fiddle with the camera.

“Do we have chairs yet?” I call out to no one in particular. Seonghwa’s sweatered torso slowly inches into the view of the camera and I have to suppress the smile that spreads across my face.

“Chairs are here.” Jinho announces, rushing in with two chairs.

Seonghwa notices Jinho struggling and immediately moves to help him.

“Seonghwa, sit down, please.” I instruct him with a wave of my hand.

“Which one?” He asks standing in between the two chairs.

I move my gaze from the camera screens to him, “Either, doesn’t matter.” I smile.

He nods and spends a couple more seconds deciding before sitting down.

Minhee crouches next to me, “Hongjoong should only be a few more minutes.” She informs me.

I nod, “Lower the lights slightly please.” Jinho fiddles with the switches and slowly lowers the lighting until my hand stops him. “Lock those in place, please.”

“Got it.” Jinho states.

Hongjoong waddles into the room and Seonghwa beckons him to the seat next to him.

Jinsang, their manager, comes to stand next to me and Minhee.

“Alright, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, do you guys know what you’re doing?” I ask, standing up.

“An ‘A ChallenZ’ video?” Hongjoong blinks blankly at me.

“Yes.” I hold back the urge to smack Jinsang for not informing them. “You’re going to be doing a Q&A of ATINY questions with snacks.”

“Oh!” Hongjoong exclaims, “That sounds like fun! Do we have to tweet out anything?”

I shake my head, “We already did it.”

“How?” Seonghwa wonders.

“I have my ways.” I joke with him.

“She asked off her account.” Minhee rolls her eyes at me.

“Not- ugh,” I mentally face palm myself, “I just said ‘If I could ask Ateez anything, I would ask them for their favorite shoe style.’ And then everyone started replying with their own questions and then poof, video content.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong just stare at me like I’ve just explained the laws of physics to them.

“And yes, I clarified that I was just curious and nothing more.” I feel Jinsang’s gaze burning into me.

With a sigh of relief from him, Seonghwa and Hongjoong break out of their silence when Jinho hands them a tablet with the questions already loaded.

“Okay,” I step back and let Minhee take control of the filming. “You boys ready?”

“Yupp.” Hongjoong says and Seonghwa nods in agreement.

Minhee counts down and begins recording, nodding to the two that they can start.

“8 makes 1 team. I’m Hongjoong.” Hongjoong starts.

“And I’m Seonghwa.” Seonghwa finishes.

As they go through what they’re going to do in the video, I receive a text.

“Sorry to bother you (y/n), but can you stop by my office after your recording today to talk?” Insu’s texts read.

I let out a silently sigh and lean my head against the wall. Seonghwa catches my eye and raises an eyebrow in a silent question. Not wanting him to worry, I give him a thumbs up and a small smile.

I’ve been thinking about what my answer should be but I’m still at a cross roads. I don’t have an answer but I need an answer to give to Insu.

As the video progresses, the boys laugh, answer the questions, and munch on the snacks we provided. Minhee and I tried my best to dig out the more unique questions that most interviews would ask to make it more fun for the guys.

“Who is a Youtuber you want to make a video with?” Hongjoong reads out and I freeze.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a nervous glance with each other before looking to Minhee for further instructions. Minhee waves her hand saying that they should just continue and I want to smack her for putting that question into the list.

“Uh, to be honest, the members and us have been watching a lot of (y/n)’s videos recently.” Hongjoong says, picking up the casual tone again, “She’d be fun to do something with.” Seonghwa nods along, popping another chip into his mouth.

I catch Minhee throwing me a smirk before turning back to the screens and it’s terribly hard to hold back my urge to smack her upside the head.

For the rest of filming, I am more in my head than in the room, thinking about the pros and cons of taking on Youtube full time. Filming wraps up nicely and Jinho quickly takes down the lights and packs up his stuff and shuffles out of the room before I can stop him.

“Great job guys.” I compliment them, ignoring my nagging thoughts.

“That was fun.” Seonghwa smiles happily, “We should do more of those.”

“Sanie and Mingi should do one together.” Hongjoong sugggests, “They’d be good at it.”

“Ah, (y/n).” Minhee calls to me with her phone at her ear, “I have to run to an emergency meeting, can you handle the cameras by yourself.”

I nod and she’s out of the door within seconds.

“Do you need help?” Seonghwa offers, looking around at the mess of stands and cameras.

“If you want, you don’t have to.” I shrug, “I know you guys are busy with your schedules.”

Hongjoong shakes his head, “No we can stay for a little longer.”

I start dismounting the cameras and try to make conversation with them but my own thoughts are suffocating.

“Hmm? What did you say?” I realize they asked me something when they are both staring at me expecting an answer.

“You okay?” Seonghwa asks, concern written on his face, “You seemed to be thinking a lot during filming too.”

I nod, “Yeah, I just have a decision to make today and I haven’t decided on what I should do.” I set down the camera into its bag and wonder if I just said too much.

“Ah, it must be a big decision.” Hongjoong speculates.

I slowly nod, wondering if I should be dumping all this on them.

“Maybe we can help?” Seonghwa offers, “Only if you want to tell us though!” He clarifies.

I laugh at his consideration, “I mean, it’s with my career is all. I have to decide between splitting my time between your team and Youtube or go full time with Youtube. The company offered me my own team to make the Youtube full time gig happen but I just don’t know.”

I take down the stand and place it in its bag, “There’s just a lot to think about.”

“Well, what’s stopping you from going for it?” Seonghwa wonders, leaning against the table.

“Lots of things,” I move to the next camera and begin dismounting it. “The biggest one being my privacy. I like not giving people information about where I am or where I work and things like that. When I’m at work, I can usually turn off the camera and hide away for bit and it’s a solid reason. But if I lose the job, I lose the privacy aspect. Plus, I really like working with you guys.” I shrug and zip up the second camera bag.

“But you’re really good at the Youtube thing.” Hongjoong argues, “You have a massive following and just think if you made more contented videos, you’d be a great hit.”

“I agree with that statement.” Seonghwa adds. “Plus who says you couldn’t work every now and then on a project for us? We really like working with you too so I’m pretty sure the company would bring you back if we asked.”

I smile at them, “Thanks.”

“Hongjoong.” Jinsang pokes his head into the room, “Can you come with me? Seonghwa stay here so I know where to find you later.”

“How long is later?” I ask, eyeing the third and final camera.

“30 minutes?” Jinsang guesses. “Can you stay here with him for that long, (y/n)?”

I nod, wanting another reason to prolong the decision making meeting. “I can do that.”

“Thank you!” He calls out as the door shuts behind Hongjoong and I move to the last camera.

“So if you did take the Youtube option, what would you do on your channel?” Seonghwa asks.

I shrug, “I’d still vlog and stuff but I’d do more like games and scripted videos instead of me running through the streets cause I’m late for another meeting.” I refer to the vlog where I lost my ID.

Seonghwa laughs, “But those were fun. It was so normal and so unexpected. I really liked that.”

I chuckle, “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. Do you really think it’d be fun to do a video with me?” I question, genuinely curious.

Seonghwa nods immediately, “Oh so much fun. Because you’ve worked on our videos, I feel like you already know us and how we’ll react to certain things that if we did a video together, it wouldn’t be awkward or weird. It would work really well.”

I stick out my bottom lip because I hadn’t thought of it that way.

“If you want my personal opinion,” Seonghwa starts, and I keep quiet for him to continue, “I think you should go with the Youtube full time option. Because while it’s super fun to work with you and all but you’re really good at Youtube and I think you should pursue that. You’ve already worked with us so it’s almost like you’ll always have us to fall back on but who knows when this opportunity from the company will come again.”

I smile and lean back next to him, piling the bags behind us. “Wow, Seonghwa is a wise old man.”

“It’s just an opinion.” He shyly averts his eyes away from mine.

My phone vibrates with a text.

“Do you have some time now?” Insu texts.

I sigh, “I think I have to go make my decision now. Insu’s getting impatient.” I smile at him, “Thanks for your advice and help.”

As I go to pick up the bags, Seonghwa stands up as well.

“Can I have your phone number?” HE inquires, “Just incase I want to ask you to work with us later?”

I smile at the excuse he used but nod and hand over my phone. “You can always text me about whatever.”

I pick the bags and he hands me back my phone with his number newly in it.

“I’ll see you around, Seonghwa.” I tell him and head for the door.

“You too, (y/n).” Seonghwa waves goodbye as the door shuts behind.

I quickly drop off the camera bags in my office before walking down to Insu’s office. I knock on the door and Insu opens the door immediately, beckoning me inside.

“They really want you to take this offer.” Insu starts, “They’re offering to let you do a video with Ateez.”

I roll my eyes at KQ management but the offer is enticing, especially after the filming session we just had.

“Have you made a decision?” He asks when I sit across from him.

I nod, “I’ll take the offer but it’s all on my terms.”

Insu claps his hands in excitement, “Of course on your terms. This is going to be great. (y/n), you’re going to be explode on the scene. I’m excited. Any ideas for a first video then?”

I ponder the question and wonder if it would be too soon to do the Ateez collab right off the bat.

“I want to finish out the last couple projects I have with Ateez and I’ll vlog those but after that, I think it’d be fun to pull Ateez into a video.” I talk through my thoughts, “I guess I could reveal where I work since KQ will be my management and I’ll be under their company in the public eye anyway.”

Insu nods, “That would be something the public could know about.” He leans forward, “Things don’t have to be super different, (y/n), we can make it work. You’re the first Youtuber under KQ so they want to make sure they’re doing things according to how a Youtuber would do them.”

I nod, thankful for such a considerate company.

“We’ll schedule the Ateez video for filming in two weeks?” Insu suggests, “Is that okay?”

“It should be.” I answer, “I can’t forsee any work conflicts.” I joke and Insu cracks a smile.

As he prints out different documents and organizes some stuff, I start to think of ideas for the types of videos I could do and try out. I mentally thank Hongjoong and Seonghwa for talking to me. Seonghwa especially.

And to think, none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t lost my ID card.

[missblissy]

Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You Chapter: One || Two || Three

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

(Hello! Here is chapter three, sorry if it's like... not good. I wasn't feeling this chapter. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! Next chapter is when MC/Reader is finally introduced! I'm not sure if I want to switch the POV once MC/Reader is brought in. Please let me know what you guys think? Should I keep it the third person or make it second person??)

Description:

Arthur didn’t even have to ask, Dutch handed the cigarette to Arthur, “You remember what to do?”

The cigarette was hot and burned his throat. The nicotine made him a little light-headed, but he liked it, “Yep,” he coughed a few times, “Use knives and get up to the hatch on the roof of that car,” He pointed at a gray car at the very end of the train. Arthur’s voice cracked a bit but he blamed it on the cigarette, “Grab as much as we can and run,”

Dutch gave Arthur a smile and a hard pat on the back that made him cough again, “Good,” He took his cigarette and pulled a cloud of smoke in like it was nothing. He laughed in a low tone that rumbled like thunder, “Let’s get this show on the road, son,”

______________________________________________________________

The sun wasn’t that hot, not if he stayed in the little shade the sheet gave him. He stared up at the white thin fabric fluttering in the wind, tied down at each corner by a pole.

Arthur tried his best to ignore the heat and his boredom at the same time. Crows cawed overhead like this camp was abandoned and filled with the dead. Close, but no. There was no end to his suffering, was there? He hated waiting, baking in the heat, for when they’d return. Several months had passed since Dutch Van der Linde had plucked Arthur from the streets. Life in the gang was very different than life on his own. For starters, Arthur had a meal every day and a bed every night. He had clean clothes that -yes he had to wash- but they were better than rags. Hosea was even teaching him how to do math, read and write. 

Sadly the “Adults” didn’t think Arthur was really ready to join them on their illegal escapades. He was instead tasked with watching over camp and working on his vocabulary.

The only plus side to staying back in camp was that no one was around to tell him what to do.

Arthur got up from his little chair and started walking around camp. There was a tree at the center, small and dying, were Arthur could sit in the shade and by the fire. He chose to walk over to his own tent, snug between Hosea and Dutch’s own personal spaces. It wasn’t much, just a little tent on the ground with a bed in it. He had some boxes under his bed that he pulled out and started to dig into. He found his mother’s journal and started to read it the best he could.

A lot of words didn’t make look right, and it was hard to read her poor handwriting. But he saw his name a lot. He could read a bit about how much she loved him. How cute of a baby he was, how she was excited to see him grow up. She wanted to teach him how to read but she couldn’t find the time because she was working. Never once however did she write about his father.

While Arthur was squinting over the pages of his mother’s book, he could hear the low hum of horse hooves along the desert. They were back. He caught them just as they slowed and dismounted. Susan seemed pissed, like always, and didn’t take long to B-line to her spot under the tree where she kept her liquor. Dutch didn’t seem like talking either, he seemed angry in some way.

It was up to Hosea to explain the tension in the air. Arthur approached him with caution, afraid he might be told to run along. It may have been a few months, but he was still unsure of these people, “How’d the robbery go?” He asked slowly.

Hosea cleared his throat and kept his gaze fixed on hitching his horse to the post, “Not good,” He was never one for details, “We didn’t much,” Hosea moved to the satchel on his horse, dug around inside and pulled out small but complicated lockbox.

Arthur had never seen anything like it. When Hosea handed it to him, it was lighter than he expected, “This was it?”

“Yep,” Hosea pressed his lips thin and spoke his next words quietly, “Dutch is not happy with this. We can’t get the damn thing open and he owes Colm some money,”

Oh that would make sense. Arthur gave a slight nod of his head, “What are you guys gonna do?”

Laughter slipped into Hosea’s words, “Get the damn thing open!” He seemed overly optimistic with a hint of sarcasm. He pointed to the top of the lockbox and Arthur noticed the two keyholes, “I’m gonna pick these,” Then he pointed to the safe lock, “And hopefully crack this too,”

“Can I help?” It was hard to ask that question, but Arthur did it anyways, “I know how to pick locks,” He remembered his times on the streets, “I use to break into people’s house a lot,”

Hosea looked slightly surprised but then smiled. He looked pleased to hear that, “Sure, of course!” They walked over to the tabled in the shade provided by the sheet. While

Hosea went off to find some tools he left the box with Arthur. He looked it over, up and down and on each side. It was a light green and looked like it was crafted for the military. Arthur brought the box up to his ear and shook it slightly. Something shuffled around inside. What on earth could it be? Money? Cash? It didn’t sound like a lot. It sounded more like two or three papers. Maybe a dozen. He wasn’t totally sure.

When Hosea returned he had the tools to pick open some locks. He gave Arthur a pair and asked him, “You know what to do?”

His face was blank for a second but then Arthur nodded, “Yeah you just…” He picked up a long skinny thing with a ninety degree angled hook at the end, “Take this and this,”

He picked up another skinny looking pick, “You jam this one in the bottom as a tension wrench and wiggle this around trying to pick the lock,” Arthur felt himself start to get nervous because Hosea was just staring at him, “Right?”

A low but humble laugh came from Hosea, “Yes, just like that. You got the basics,” Hosea picked up his own tools, “You wanna do this one? I’ll get the other one,” No time was wasted getting to the locks. Arthur would dart his gaze between his hands and Hosea’s.

While his hands were young, they were cut up and covered in scars. They didn’t look that different from Hosea’s hands. Broken, beaten, rough and dirty. Working on this together made Arthur feel useful for the first time in a long time. Every time he slipped up and had to start over, Hosea would say something like, “It’s alright. Tough huh? I’ve lost it twice already,” then laugh like he was remembering something from the past.

After a few minutes, Hosea asked an odd question, “Have you ever gone fishing… Arthur?”

He never had, no. Arthur wasn’t sure what to say so he shrugged, “Never wanted too,”

Hosea put down his tools and caused Arthur to do the same, “You want to go fishing tomorrow?” How strange of a question. Why would he want to do that? Was there even a place to go fishing out here in a sandy waterless world?

“What about the lockbox?” He sounded so dumbfounded. Arthur cleared his throat then spoke again more clearly, “I-I thought Dutch needed what was in here?”

“We can’t work on this forever,” Hosea warned, “We’ll keep trying for now. We have all day tomorrow too, but you can really only go fishing at dawn,” He wasn’t going to let this thing go, was he?

Arthur didn’t really see a downside to this anyways, “What time do we need to wake up?” He picked up his tools again and went back to wriggling the lock open.

Hosea did the same, but he did so with a small and tiny grin on his face, “Before the sunrise. Maybe around five,”

That sounded awful, “Alright,” Arthur said, “Fishing it is,” He felt a little odd. Hopeful maybe, or scared. Or just awkward at feeling things in general. It was awful being his age. He was supposed to be a man by now but he was so far behind. He couldn’t read all too well. He barely understood math. He couldn’t really shoot a gun but he did good enough to kill someone if he had too. Yeah, he could pick locks… but nothing like this.

In the background, he could hear Dutch talking to Susan. Something he tried to keep out of his hearing range. Susan was his mistress of some kind. Dutch loved women, he loved talking to them in a certain voice that caused them to swoon. Sometimes Arthur wanted to have that power. But his lanky body and cracking voice made that impossible.

The sun in the sky had started making its way to the horizon. Little progress was being made on the two keyholes. Hosea had switched to cracking the spin dial safe lock. He wouldn’t let up on that thing, even as Susan made food and demanded that they all ate together. Like some family. Somehow Hosea didn’t have to eat dinner that night.

Arthur sat by the fire with Susan and Dutch. They were talking about what could be in the lockbox. What they’d tell Colm. How much money they needed before moving again. What to do with their other ‘business partners’ and such. He wasn’t really paying much attention until there was a yell.

“I figured it out!” All eyes were on Hosea, “I think I got it! Dutch! Come here!”

It was like a bomb went off. Everyone dropped what they were doing and ran over to Hosea. Dutch’s eyes darted around, “What is it?”

“I know how to unlock it,” Hosea shook a hand slowly, “It-it needs to be unlocked at the same time. All three of them,” He pointed to the safe lock, “The code for this is 15-25-6, and I figured out these. Arthur, son, help me will you?”

With shaky hands, Arthur got to work. He felt incredibly nervous like he was going to mess up this somehow. He followed Hosea’s instructions and did as told while Dutch got to working on the safe lock, “On the count of three,” Hosea said slowly, “One,” Arthur stared hard at his lock, “Two,” He could barely begin to guess what was in here, “Three.”

The lockbox popped out with a loud click! A latch came undone inside and the box lid came jolted open. Dutch pushed everyone to the side and made room for himself. He looked at everyone, Arthur, Hosea, and Susan, gaze darting between them. He took his time as he slowly placed his hands on either side of the lid, “Friends,” he said in a low voice, “Let’s hope this is something good,”

He flipped open the lid and inside the box was a stack of cash beside an envelope. There had to be a thousand dollars there. Dutch smiled and began to laugh, “What do we have here?” he tossed the cash to Hosea who was just as giddy.

Dutch tore open the letter and read it out loud, “Dear…. Mr. Ferguson…” His grin grew larger and he eyed everyone, “I’m so pleased to have done business with you. You have indeed keep your promise and in that regard. I thank you. As promised in my return I have sent the rest of your share to Dale Creek. There you will find the rest of your money, and gold from the mines aboard your train awaiting you at the station this Friday at 9:00 pm. Please enjoy my personal passenger car as you have a long trip ahead of you. Get back to me as soon as you can. Sincerely, Mr. Wells.”

The air was extremely thick and silent. Arthur could barely grasp the situation. Here they had a thousand dollars and more… just waiting at a train station? Gold…?!

“That’s tonight,” Susan said, “In three hours. It’ll take at least one to get to Dale Creek,”

“Then we have to go,” Dutch made it sound like that wasn’t even a decision.

“We don’t know how many men there will be there,” Susan just loved poking holes in plans. But that’s why she was here, wasn’t she? “Three people can’t do much,”

There was a split second of silence before Dutch said, “We’ll bring Arthur. We can not let something like this slip between our hands,”

Susan looked like she really wanted to protest. Arthur was extremely glad when she didn’t. Everything was happening so fast. One second he was at a table being handed guns, the next he was on a horse tailing behind Dutch. This was it…. This was his first heist.. his first robbery with the gang. He was actually doing it!

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and suffocated his heart in a throbbing buzz. Arthur’s mind went a thousand thoughts a second. This wasn’t anything like his petty thefts in the city. It was an attack. He could see the lights of Dale creek off in the distance. As it got closer he could feel himself grip the reins tighter.

Dale creek was a very small town. It had a store, some stables, and a train station. There wasn’t even a sheriff’s office, or a bank or jail. This place was just a dot on the dusty map of the desert. They hitched their horses a bit outside of the town. Dutch made the plan very clear, Hosea and Susan would go to the station, create a distraction so that he and Arthur could sneak on the train and steal as much money as they could. Hosea suspected that much money would be in a safe car and well guarded.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Arthur was extremely nervous. He felt a fear he’d never known before. The fear of failure. The train came exactly when the letter said it would. He and Dutch sat waiting in the bushes while Susan and Hosea did their thing. Dutch sparked up a cigarette, there was a deep scowl on his face.

Arthur didn’t even have to ask, Dutch handed the cigarette to Arthur, “You remember what to do?”

The cigarette was hot and burned his throat. The nicotine made him a little light-headed, but he liked it, “Yep,” he coughed a few times, “Use knives and get up to the hatch on the roof of that car,” He pointed at a gray car at the very end of the train. Arthur’s voice cracked a bit but he blamed it on the cigarette, “Grab as much as we can and run,”

Dutch gave Arthur a smile and a hard pat on the back that made him cough again, “Good,” He took his cigarette and pulled a cloud of smoke in like it was nothing. He laughed in a low tone that rumbled like thunder, “Let’s get this show on the road, son,”

With their faces covered with bandanas and knives ready to kill, Dutch and Arthur made their way towards the train. In the distance, there was the sound of arguing. It was

Susan and Hosea. The stood in the train station screaming at each other like a bitter married couple, drunk and ready for divorce. The few guards on the train took the bait inside. They left their posts to go see what was happening.

Following Dutch, Arthur made it onto the train. Dutch climbed up the side and got to the roof, “Come on,” He held his hand down for Arthur to grab. He hoisted him up and they made their way over to the opening of the safe car.

The latch was heavy and opened with a loud scream. Someone inside the car started talking and asking what was going on. Dutch was quick about that, he slid inside the car and a loud thud immediately followed. Keeping sure to keep the latch door open, Arthur fell inside the dark hollow car. There was a lantern on the ground that provided the only light.

“Holy… Hell,” He looked over to see Dutch with bars of gold in each hand, “Arthur… I think we struck gold!” He started to laugh and threw them inside the bag he got, “Oh we are going to make it now, Arthur. Get some! Go one! Get the cash from those drawers!”

There was more money in here than Arthur could have ever imagined. He easily counted up to ten grand in cash, plus a dozen bars of gold that Dutch was gathering, “What are we going to do with all thing money, Dutch?”

“Gonna pay Colm, first. Then find someplace to lay low, store all this money someplace safe. Maybe head north to Montana territory or Washington,”

“Hosea want to go to California,” Arthur said, he wanted to add he did too. California seemed so nice and so far away.

“I know. There’s to much law the-” Dutch’s words got cut off. There was a thud on the roof of the car. Footsteps echoed throughout the darkness and stopped right in front of the hatch.

“Someone left this thing open,”

“Close it, we don’t need no one getting in there,”

It happened in seconds, but Arthur saw it in slow motion. Their only way out was slammed shut and locked in place. The moonlight that has once leaked in like water was gone and replaced by the low warmth of the lanterns.

Dutch dropped everything in his hands and yelled out, “No! God dammit!” He climbed up the latter and started smashing his hands on the door. What the hell just happened? Arthur picked up the lantern and looked around for another way to escape.

He couldn’t see anything. Just when it couldn’t have gotten any worse, the train tugged forward. The force caused Arthur to fall to his knees. Dutch jumped down and ran over to one of the steel walls, “Hosea!!” His screams were harsh and raspy, “Hosea!! Stop the train!!” Arthur was so shocked he couldn’t move. The second time the train jerked, he stood up and ran over to the same wall as Dutch.

“Hosea!! Susan!! Someone get us out!” Their pleas fell on deaf ears. The engine of the train roared to life and nothing could be heard over that. There wasn’t much oil left in the lantern.

Arthur felt himself grow cold as the train pulled out of the station. Here they had all this money but now they were good as dead. Where the hell was this train going? When was it going to stop and who was going to open that door next? How were they going to get out of here alive?