#the rest of the story will be posted exclusively on ao3

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. uh oh, i'm falling in love

A/N: Hello!!! I said I was gonna write and post this story ages ago and I am so sorry for how long this took!! But now I've finally posted it!!! And chapter 2 is almost finished so look out for that one!! I super hope you enjoy this series and that it was worth the wait!!!!

Pairing(s): Lancelot x GN!Tristan's Twin!Reader (No pronouns specified and I never specify whether they're identical or not, that's completely up to you!)

Summary: The King of Liones throws a party and among all the socializing, Lancelot and (Y/N) decide to spend their time breaking a few rules.

Tags: Alcohol Consumption, Underage Drinking, Meliodas, Fluff, Drunkenness (Is that a word??)

Word Count: 3,088

Song Inspiration: Labyrinth By Taylor Swift

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

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[Series Masterlist]

[Author Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

~*~

You lean back against the cold stone wall behind you, sighing softly. You can feel the chill of it on your back through the thin fabric of your tunic, but you don't really care much. You’re a bit overheated from the partially crowded dining hall you had been in just a few minutes earlier and you really prefer it much more out here than back in there at the moment.

Nearly everyone you know is there. All four apocalypse knights as well as all their friends, Hendy and Dreyfus, mom and dad, Aunt Margaret and Uncle Gil. It’s a celebration of sorts. It’s someone’s birthday, one of the knights that isn’t Tris or Lance, though you’re not sure which one. Not that your father really needs much of a reason to throw a party anyways, but it is a nice sentiment at least.

It's not that you don't enjoy having fun with everyone, you do, but despite knowing every single person in that room, most of them aren't really your friends. Not including family, there’s only one person in there that you’re close to and by the time everyone had finished eating and scattered into different groups and conversations, you were the only person left by yourself, floundering to figure out what to do next. And so, you came outside to get some air.

"What are you doing now?" A voice says from beside you, the person sounding exasperated.

You turn to the right and crane your neck up towards the doorway leading from the dining hall to the balcony, your (Y/E/C) eyes locking with bright red ones. Your face flushes and you look away, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of your neck sheepishly.

"...sitting outside?" You ask uncertainly.

Lancelot sighs before he's sitting down next to you, so close that his shoulder is touching yours. You suppress a shiver at the warmth he radiates and loosen your hold on your knees, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. You mimic his sitting position, letting your leg touch his as well, and try your best not to think of your reason for doing so.

"(Y/N), you can be friends with them, too. Friendship isn't exclusive, you know." He points out for probably the millionth time in your guys' friendship.

"I know that, Lan, but you've never managed to succeed much in making friends in the past besides me and Tris, especially not an entire group of them, and I really don't wanna get in the way of that. You deserve to just have a group of friends without any interruptions." You tell him with confidence, even though you know it doesn't make much sense in the long run.

"And that wouldn't change just because you are a part of that group. You're my friend, too, my best friend, whether you're friends with the rest of them or not." He tells you, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you force yourself to keep looking away from him for just a little longer.

"Well, still. The five of you guys have a very unique bond and I'm not gonna take the chance of getting in the way of that." You say matter-of-factly.

Your best friend snorts. "Is that the same excuse you use with your brother? Cause I know you have this same argument with him just as much as you do with me."

You groan, throwing your head back and letting it hit the wall, causing a dull ache that you ignore. "Can we not talk about this right now, please?" You finally look at him, your eyes pleading for him to switch topics.

His expression softens as he looks at you and he nods. "Fine. Instead, let's drink." He gets a little grin on his face that's similar to an expression you'd seen on his father's face plenty of times, but at the same time, it's somehow still just all Lancelot. He holds up a dark green bottle and two chalices which had been on the other side of him, out of your line of sight.

You were glad for the conversation change and it was your turn to snort. "What did you sneak away this time?" You ask him knowingly.

He sits up a little straighter rather than slouching against the wall and places the chalices between his legs in front of him. "I have absolutely no idea but I snatched it from one of the castle guards. Heard him bragging about how good it was to one of his buddies, so you know, I thought you and I could test it out just to be sure he wasn't lying." He smirks as he opens up the bottle and starts pouring some for each of you.

You feel a slight flutter in your chest at the thought of him specifically wanting to share it with you and you stay quiet as you inspect the liquid in the chalice he hands you. The alcohol is a light pink color, almost translucent, and the first thing you can think of to compare it to, as random as it is, is Isolde's hair. Maybe a little darker, though. It's pretty. And not at all like any alcohol you'd ever seen or heard of before.

"You sure this is safe to drink?" You ask him sceptically as you turn your face towards him, though your eyes stay on your drink. "This isn't gonna turn out to actually be poison or anything, right?"

​​​​​​You bite your lip as you hear him let out that arrogant chuckle of his under his breath. "No, it's not poison, (Y/N). Now, c'mon, are we drinking or what?" He holds his chalice out and looks at you expectantly.

You shake your worry away and look at him with a small grin, tapping your chalice against his with a soft clink before you both take your first sip. Your eyes widen as the taste hits your tongue. It's sweet, with a slightly bitter undertone, and a deep burn as it slips down your throat that isn't unpleasant and definitely wouldn't be expected based on how sweet it is.

"Damn." Lancelot mutters appreciatively against the lip of his cup.

"Agreed." You mumble before taking a deeper gulp and enjoying it, closing your eyes and humming.

You pull your chalice away from your lips, intent on savoring what's left in it since it's your first time trying it, but Lancelot is gradually relaxing more against your side and the feel of his body still touching yours feels so much nicer than it should and you guys have an entire bottle to yourself and suddenly savoring your drink is the last thing on your mind as you shrug your shoulders and chug the rest of it down, sighing softly at the sweetness of it.

You relish in the taste for a few moments longer before grabbing the bottle from its spot in between Lance’s legs and refilling your chalice, though you misjudge and almost spill some of it over the rim of the cup. You giggle softly at yourself. You're quickly starting to realize that whatever this stuff is, it works fast, but you don't really mind.

"Hey, don't spill any of that, I only got one bottle this time and I don't wanna waste any of it." The boy beside you says sternly and at his words, you put every ounce of your focus into not spilling a single drop of alcohol until your chalice is filled and you hold the bottle out in his general direction.

He takes it from you and you take a long drink, sighing softly in content and slouching back against the wall, allowing your head to tip to the side and land on Lancelot's shoulder. He stiffens slightly beside you even as he leans his head against yours and you wonder if it’s the alcohol. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you have a fleeting thought that it’s strange for you to be so physically close with him, but it was gone as quick as it had come.

It seems that Lancelot's mind, however, lingers on it a little longer. "What are you doing?" He asks you softly, his voice almost a whisper and his words slightly slurring already.

"I'm relaxing." You state like it's obvious, noticing the same slur in your own voice. You take another drink as your eyes close before continuing. "Your shoulder is a really comfy pillow. And you're so warm." You find yourself leaning further into him as the cold wind blows against your mostly uncovered arms.

"(Y/N/N), people could walk right over here and see us like this." He says in that same soft tone, some emotion in his voice that you can't quite place in your current state of mind.

"So what?" You slur, finishing off your second drink. "'S not like we're doin' 'nything. Don' worry 'bout it, Lancey." The nickname you hadn't called him since you were nine slipped out without you asking it to, but thankfully, he doesn't acknowledge it.

You hear him sigh and you open your eyes to see him refilling his own drink and then yours, the bottle now empty. As you bring the chalice to your lips once more, you hear him speak so quietly that you're certain his words are only meant for his own ears, not yours.

"What am I going to do with you, huh?" The question is asked with a voice full of affection and you can't help but smile.

"Ya know, gettin' back to our rooms is gonna be a pain in the ass." You point out. "Next time, you gotta try an' find out how strong the stuff is before we drink it."

"Ah, shit." He curses and you snicker.

"Mmmm, maybe we can jus' sleep righ' here." You suggest, seriously considering it.

He lifts his head off of yours and you can't help but pout slightly as he starts shifting beside you. "We can't jus' sleep here, (Y/N/N). We gotta try and get to our actual beds." He reasons.

You groan as you sit up. "Ugh, why do you gotta be right?" You mumble.

He laughs softly as he sits up, leaning over your legs to nestle the empty bottle and now once again empty chalices into the corner of the balcony beside you. Seeing the action suddenly makes you wonder how he had even snuck any of it onto the balcony in the first place, but you're quickly distracted as Lancelot stands up.

He wobbles slightly as he does, reaching a hand out to steady himself with the wall, then he reaches a hand down to you. You grab it and allow him to help you stand, both of you taking a moment to gather your bearings and get used to standing. The world around you is wobbly and keeps going out of focus, but you have no choice but to force your vision to stay as clear as possible, as you will now have to walk quite a bit before you can get off of your feet again.

Simultaneously, you both step through the doorway and into the dining hall slowly and you squint at the brighter lighting, blinking quickly. "Here goes nothin'." Lancelot says quietly, and you both start making your way across the room as fast as your alcohol-infused brains will allow without either of you falling flat on your face. You manage to avoid catching the attention of anyone else in the room until about halfway to the doors leading to the hallway.

"Everything okay, (Y/N)?" Your dad calls from behind you and you freeze. Neither of you dare turn around, knowing that if you do, he'll immediately know what you and the blonde next to you have been doing. From your slow, uncertain steps to the bright flush that you just know is covering your face, your drunkenness would be completely obvious, and you know Lancelot is in a similar state.

You try to force your voice into some semblance of normal, trying to keep from slurring. "Yeah, F-Father, 'im fine." You tell him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lancelot nod his head in agreement with your statement.

Your dad gives a small hum as you blink and suddenly he's right beside you. Your eyes widen and you hear Lancelot choke before trying to cover it up with a cough. Your dad's expression is the same as always, just a casual, neutral expression that gives away none of his actual thoughts. However, in one of his hands is a bottle, and in his other is two empty chalices. None of the items ever had any special markings. Those could be any two chalices. That could be any old bottle of alcohol. But knowing your father, you know for a fact that they're the exact items that you and Lance had just left behind on the balcony.

You internally curse as you give your father an uncertain and sheepish grin. Your dad doesn't say anything else or react at all at first, but then he adjusts his hold on the chalices so that he can hold the bottle with the same hand as well, leaving one of his hands free. He suddenly gives his signature grin and his hand pats your back. It would've been a perfectly normal gesture except his hand comes down a little more forcefully than normal, causing you to stumble forward and almost fall on your face.

"Well, that's good! Go rest up, 'kay? We got a big day tomorrow!" He starts walking away but stops to do the same back patting move on Lancelot before he's moved across the room to do something else.

You and Lancelot turn to look at each other with wide eyes before you both turn forward and move as quickly as you can to get out of the room and into the hallway. Once the doors to the dining hall close behind you, you loop your arm with his without much thought to it, but you end up needing the support anyways as the two of you stumble through the halls.

Once you make it to your door, Lancelot starts to pull his arm away from yours, but you're quick to latch onto it again. "You gotta help me get to my bed." You whine softly, not caring much how you sound at this point.

He chuckles softly and the sound fills you up with a slight giddiness. "'Kay, fine." He says, pushing your doors open.

You both stumble into the room as the closing of the doors leave you in the very dim lighting of your bed chambers. You walk further into the room before your foot hits the corner of the long rug across the floor and you trip, falling forward. You yelp as you hit the ground and you hear a curse from beside you. You realize that you were still holding onto Lancelot's arm and had ended up dragging him down with you.

"'M sorry." You mumble quietly.

"'S fine." He reassures me.

You realize that you should probably get up now, but you're starting to get sleepy and your carpet is soft and you feel yourself sagging more into it. You look beside you to see Lancelot flipping over onto his back.

"Floor's comfy." He says softly.

You hum your agreement and after a moment of hesitation, you roll over and snuggle right up to him, your head going onto his shoulder and your arm throwing itself loosely over his chest and waist.

He gasps softly, freezing up, and you think for a moment that maybe you shouldn't have just done that. You're not really sure why you did it in the first place. Ever since laying your head on his shoulder earlier on, you had wondered what it would be like to snuggle all the way into his side, what it would be like to maybe even have his arms completely wrapped around you. You refuse to admit it right in this moment, but you’ve been wondering these types of things for awhile now, despite knowing you probably shouldn't. He’s your childhood best friend, you should see him as a brother, not as a potential romantic connection. But deep down you know that these feelings for him are inevitable considering you’ve had them for years. And so, when you saw him just laying there, you couldn't help yourself. It was like an instinct.

But now you’re wondering if he's been uncomfortable with you being all over him as you recall the way he stiffened earlier and the way he questioned your actions. You push away from him, opening your mouth and getting ready to apologize, when he suddenly beats you to it.

"No, wait-" His voice is suddenly filled with a strange sense of panic as his arm quickly curls around you and pulls you back against him, your head coming to rest on his chest this time, though neither of you voice any complaints. Your arm goes back around his torso as his stays curled around your waist. "Stay, please." He says in a tone of voice that even you very rarely hear from him. It’s pleading, vulnerable. Almost afraid, in a way. Of what, you aren't quite sure. But you aren't going to question him about it, not sure you'd even get an answer if you did.

"Okay." You try your best to pronounce the whole word, feeling it important to do so. "'M here." You say, trying your best to reassure whatever fears are currently nestled into that strange brain of his.

He suddenly turns onto his side and wraps his other arm around you as well, pulling you closer, your face in his chest and his face in your hair. The motion was quick, like he was in a hurry to do it. You relax completely, practically melting into him and the floor under you. You're completely surrounded by him and suddenly you want nothing more than to stay here for the rest of your life.

You nuzzle your face against his shirt as your eyelids start to droop. It's been a long day and the alcohol coursing through your system hasn't added to your energy at all. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Lancelot mumbling something that sounds like, "Smells nice." As he burrows his face further into your hair.

~*~

A/N: What do y'all think?? Please let me know!! I should have chapter 2 finished soon, there's going to be both a male!reader version of it and a female!reader version of it. Pronouns still aren't specified, but there's a certain part of the chapter that differs greatly depending on gender, tbh, so if you'd like to be tagged for the next chapter, let me know which version you'd like to be tagged for!! You can also ask to be tagged for both versions if you'd like to be!!! Thank you for reading!!!

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@kalopsiakey

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!!

[grainjew]

Nikaposting Pt 2: Symbology & Syncretism

This is the second of a series of posts about Nika & associated religious practice in the One Piece world. As I write and post the rest of the series, I’ll add links to this header.

Pt 1: Crypto-Religion | Pt 3: Joyboy was Shandian | Pt 4: Sun God Tropes

Enormous credit to @oriigami for being my discussion partner through all of this and having a substantial influence on the final product. Check out our ao3 series Joyful for a narrative rather than analytical take on the Nika tradition, and definitely go read her OP blog @kaizokuou-ni-naru for meta and translation fun facts.

-

So About That Sun Symbol (and all those sun gods)

Context note: This post assumes you’ve read pt 1. If you haven’t, the TLDR is that the Nika cult is best categorized as a crypto-religion and may not ever have existed outside of a cryptic and oral form.

There’s a lot of sun gods in One Piece. And there’s a lot of appearances of that sun symbol we discussed briefly in pt 1, with the disconnected rays. This post will cover that symbol, the survival of non-Kuma Nika cult branches, and the proliferation of sun gods across the One Piece world.

The sun symbol can be found everywhere, in what seems at first to be a wildly disparate collection of places. There are a number of borderline cases, so I’ll be defining the “Nika sun symbol” as being any symbol with a central circle, disconnected rays, and four- or eight-fold radial symmetry. This leaves us the below list (images of the majority of these instances can be found in this very helpful post):

The Kuma-Bonney/Buccaneer version found in his church and on the amulet he left for her (8 circular rays) ; this is our basic template for the symbol

The Alabasta national symbol (8 droplet-shaped rays; the droplets seem to be drawn at various different orientations depending on the panel)

The Kozuki crest (8 circular rays in the center of a bird in the center of another circle also there’s some sprouts or something)

The Shandian crest (8 circular rays inside a larger circle, also the central circle contains the kanji for kami/god)

The Sun Pirates’ mark (4 more traditional flaring rays; the rays seem to be drawn inconsistently, especially in the anime)

There’s also Ace’s dagger, which has the basic template version, but one can assume he bought that thing in Alabasta or something like that.

From this we can conclude that the sun with disconnected rays is not exclusively a Nika symbol- in fact I would be surprised if it was, because of how prominently it was displayed in Kuma’s church (see the discussion in pt 1). However, Alabasta, Shandora, and Wano are all poneglyph countries, and were all involved in some way or another in [incomprehensible void century muttering]. I would be extremely unsurprised if the sun with disconnected rays wasn’t a more widely-spread popular symbol among [void century muttering] countries back then, which was adopted by Nika worshippers as their secret symbol around that time and simultaneously retained in more benign form by certain nations as an element of their national symbology.

(Sidenote: If you were unaware, Oda snagged this symbol from a castle in his hometown and clearly just seems to enjoy drawing it. However that doesn’t matter to us in meta analysis land. We continue.)

The Nika cult absolutely survived outside Kuma’s family: at the very least, among slaves on Mariejois. There’s a very high chance Fisher Tiger heard Nika stories while enslaved- the compositional similarity of the Sun Pirates’ mark to the base Nika symbol, Jinbe’s pissed off refusal to answer any of Who’s-Who’s questions, Fisher Tiger’s own status as a warrior of liberation, and of course, the Sun Pirates’ name and the importance of the sun to the residents of Fishman Island all point in this direction.

The proliferation of the Nika sun symbol across the world also points, to me, to at least pockets of the Nika cult potentially surviving in cryptic form across the world, like Kuma’s family did, with various levels of conscious awareness about what their rituals and symbols actually mean and what secret seditious knowledge they’re actually carrying.

However! All that said! Not all sun gods are Nikas- At least, not completely.

Upon their arrival at Egghead Island, Dorry and Broggy identified Luffy as the Sun God. However, I contend that Nika was not originally Elbaf’s sun god.

In expository Nika dialogue, Nika is specifically cited as a god of slaves (& as an ethnic or cultural god of the buccaneer people), and the giants as far as we know are (1), not a traditionally enslaved people nor particularly easy to enslave, (2), are based on Vikings & have their own pantheon which includes a god of war, & (3), while I can absolutely see how a tradition of a prolonged fast > feast festival would have evolved around a Nika figure, it does still feel a little strange. That’s supposed to be a Luffy-alike!

Besides this, the Shandian pantheon also includes a sun god, and I think it’s reasonable to assume that the sun god in question existed prior to any awakened user of the Nika fruit running around causing issues (although, more on my thoughts about Joyboy and Shandora in pt 3). Human sacrifice traditions also feel about as odd for a Luffy figure as fasting does, and while obviously Luffy, Joyboy, and Nika aren’t the same person, with the way One Piece’s narrative conventions work they’re probably quite similar.

Solar deities are the lynchpins of many if not most traditions in the real world. Sun’s a very notable noticable thing that follows a set course across the sky and brings light and life! And especially in One Piece, where the sun is also a critical thematic element and motif, I would be surprised if the majority of One Piece cultures hadn’t developed their own sun gods at some point or other.

So, all that said, why were Dorry and Broggy calling Luffy Sun God? Syncretism.

Not every god has a mythical zoan or the things would be wildly more common- only gods and figures with, as @oriigami put it while we were talking about this, a particularly potent wish attached to them. Even fewer gods have awakened mythical zoan users around. So when an awakened user of a sun god’s mythical zoan is running around (and particularly, a sun god with an incredibly potent wish attached, because Nika is a god of liberation as well as the sun, and it’s a god that people wish they could be and emulate as a matter of course), it’s easy to fold them into your mythology as your sun god. Tradition is very malleable! He’s the sun, even if he’s not exactly how you traditionally pictured it.

Traditions are very good at working with what they get, and at the moment what they get is a smiling, laughing pirate captain and liberator of slaves. What could be better?

[fandom-alley]

Want You Like That

Summary: Spencer has a massive crush on a NYC based pop rock singer, thanks to Penelope getting him addicted to the tiktok app. He convinces the team to see her perform at a bars grand opening after their latest case in the city. He has the best night of his life. Pairing: Spencer Ried/Fem Reader Content: Fluff, smut Warnings: alcohol consumption, age gap, sex 18+Work Count: 6.1k a/n: Spencer's addiction storyline does not exist in this story

on AO3

Song inspiration for this story: Want You Like That by Charlotte Sands Bad Day by Charlotte Sands Snow Angel by Renee Rapp Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo

~~

It had been 182 days since Spencer Reid had stumbled upon Y/n and her band on tiktok. He wouldn’t have found her, become almost obsessed with her, if it wasn’t for Penelope introducing him to the addicting app. Spencer had almost been late to work on multiple occasions since she downloaded the app for him, thanks to getting lost in the mesmerizing one to three minute videos Y/n posted multiple times a day. 

He had to catch up on them every morning while he had his coffee, which would get cold sitting on the table as he scrolled and watched, getting sucked into the time vortex that was tikok.

Spencer didn’t even care to use the app enough to get a for you page that was tailored to his interests. All he used the app for was to watch Y/n and her distracting cotton candy blue and pink hair. Her cute little dances, or her day in the life in New York City, or clips from her and her band performing in night clubs and bars. He was mesmerized by the black and grey ink that stained her arms and legs, and he would let his imagination go wild on if or where her other tattoo’s lived beneath her clothing. 

If he had to say what his preferred genre of music was, he would probably say classical. The likes of Beethoven and Mozart. If you had asked him 182 days ago if he would become obsessed with pop rock he would have laughed. Although technically he wasn’t obsessed with all pop rock artists. Just Y/n and her band.

When the BAU was brought in on a case in NYC, Spencer's mind immediately went to thoughts of running into Y/n on the streets. Or in a coffee shop. Or even, and he couldn't even believe his brain thought of this, saving her from an unsub. However, none of those scenarios came to light. The case was cut and dry and solved within 48 hours. 

"Well, looks like that's it for us," Emily said to the team. They were crowded around a small table in the New York city police department. "Let's go back to the hotel, pack up, and head to the airport."

Spencer's shoulders slouched in defeat. He wouldn't be running into Y/n this time around in New York city. 

Just as they were packing up to leave, Emily's phone rang. While she was occupied, the rest of the team took out their phones as well. As inconspicuous as he could be, Spencer opened tiktok on his own device. He made sure the phone was muted, with his closed captions on, and went right to Y/n’s page. He didn't need sounds to appreciate her beauty and talents. 

He was shocked to find a new video posted just a few minutes ago, so he eagerly clicked on it. Before it could even play all the way through he hit the little heart on the side and added the video to his favourites file.

As Spencer watched and read the subtitles on the video, he realized this was a surprise announcement. Y/n and her band were playing an exclusive show tonight at the grand opening of a new bar around the corner from their hotel. 

Spencer's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. They were set to leave tonight, and he would miss it. She would be so close, and he wasn’t going to get the opportunity to see her in real life. But then his brain went into overdrive, trying to think of possible reasons he could tell the team why he wasn't going to be heading back with them tonight. He could fake an illness. Or say his mom was on her way to the city and he was to be her tour guide. 

They would see right through him. Spencer wasn’t great at making things up. The one time he lied to the team about having a head cold and wasn’t able to fly with them for fear of ear drum damage, he actually just wanted to attend the all night multi showing of the Halloween movies. Emily caught on in an instant but she let him have his night. Then made him complete all their paperwork when they were back as punishment.

"There's something wrong with the jet," Emily said to the team when she hung up her call. "Some system rebooting or something. They've booked us on a commercial flight back, but it doesn't leave until tomorrow morning. Everyone okay with that?"

Spencer couldn't believe his ears. Did he wish this into existence? He wanted an extra night in the city and now he got it.

"Fine by me. I could use a night out in the city," Tara laughed. 

"How about we all go out together?" JJ suggested. 

"Team bonding experience," said Luke. "Where should we go?"

They were quiet for a few moments as they thought of all the places and things they could do in one night in New York city. 

"There's a grand opening for a bar not too far from the hotel. We could go there?" Spencer suggested to the team.

"That's a good idea! We wouldn't have to worry about taxis and trains trying to get back to the hotel. How did you hear about this?" Emily asked.

"I just saw a flyer somewhere for it," Spencer shrugged. "There's going to be live music and specialty drinks." 

“I never thought I’d see the day where Spencer suggests going to a bar instead of an obscure foreign movie playing at an underground theatre at midnight.” laughed JJ.

“Well, now that you mention it, JJ, there is a movie playing tonight at this really cool-”

“No!” The team yelled in unison, cutting him off mid sentence. 

“We’re going to the bar. It’s final.” Emily said. Spencer bit back his smile as he tried to hide his excitement. 

It was already pretty late into the evening, and the party at the bar was set to start in just over an hour. Not wanting to waste another second of free time, since it was so rare for them, the team raced into their Government-issued vehicles and drove back to the hotel. With a quick confirmation that they would meet in the lobby in half an hour and walk to the bar together, they disappeared into their respective rooms. 

Spencer spent a few minutes pacing the length of his room, his thoughts once again on overdrive. He was about to see Y/n in person. A girl he never thought he would actually get to see. He was about to see all the stuff that had hypnotised him in her videos, in real life. Like her vibrant colourful hair swaying back and forth as she ran across stage, or the swirling inky vine that made it’s up her arm and disappeared under her clothing. But most importantly he was about to hear her angelic yet angry voice as she sang her songs that were a mixture of angsty pop and rock.

After all these thoughts, Spencer realized he needed to start getting ready or he would be late meeting the team. After the quickest shower he’s ever had, to wash the stressful day away, he got dressed in the only clothes he had. A pair of dress pants, and a purple collard shirt. He went without the matching tie.

With one minute to spare, Spencer made it downstairs to the lobby where the team was waiting.

“Cutting it close, pretty boy,” Tara laughed as she slapped a sheepish looking Spencer on the back. 

Spencer was on autopilot mode as they walked the few blocks to the bar. He was lost in thoughts, trailing a few steps behind. However, once they reached the bar and stood in the short line to the entrance, his heart felt like it was in his throat. This was it. This was happening. 

The wait to get in was short. The bouncer checked their ID’s, which made them all feel giddy and like teenagers, since they were all in their 40’s or more by now. The girls took that giddiness and went right to get celebratory shots at the bar. Spencer and Luke followed behind them, and when Spencer was handed a shot by JJ with a raised eyebrow, Spencer threw it back, barely wincing as the sting of alcohol made its way down his throat. He wasn’t one to drink much, the hangover headaches weren’t worth it for him, since he usually needed his brain to be in complete working order for his profession. But tonight? Tonight he felt like he needed a little extra help to calm those nerves.

What are the odds that I’ll even get to talk to her?  He asked himself. Before he could do the actual maths and figure it out, the bartender was getting his attention, asking him if he wanted a drink. He ordered a rum and coke, then went and stood near his friends. 

While sipping his way too strong to be a single shot of rum drink, he surveyed the bar. It was definitely new. The floor didn’t feel sticky, none of the tables looked chipped or graffitied on, and everything still had that new smell. A large stage at the back of the bar was lit up, where an artist he had never heard of was performing. Right below the bar was the dance floor, with tables and booths lining the walls. Upstairs were other tables, where Spencer watched as a waitress dressed in way too tight clothing to be comfortable, served a tray of food to a group of rowdy guys. 

Spencer was definitely over dressed for a bar. Even his friends had managed to pack themselves with clothing that wasn't work related.

It wasn't long before Emily was whisked away by a guy, Luke found himself surrounded by a group of girls, and JJ and Tara were off to the side chatting. Spencer found himself wandering into the crowd near the stage. 

“Hey there,” a girl said, running her hand up his arm to grab his attention. Spencer jumped back, surprised by the action. “You look a little lost. Can I help you find the way?” She batted her eyes at him.

“I’m okay, thank you,” he politely declined. She sighed and rolled her eyes, moving on to the next boy since she didn’t get her way. Spencer watched as she walked right up to someone younger and played the same move, except he accepted and whisked her away to a dark spot in the room. Spencer turned away and continued making his way closer to the stage. 

He managed to find a spot close to the front that was off to the side, slightly hidden behind one of the massive speakers that was sure to hurt his hearing later in the evening. He stood awkwardly, sipping on his drink.

Finally, the lights lowered in the building and people started crowding closer to the stage. Spencer held his spot, being careful not to spill his drink on the girls who stood in front of him as he was jostled around. His heart sped up as he watched the shadowy figures of Y/n and her band make their way onto the stage in the dark.

There were a few breaths of silence before a spotlight lit up on the guitar players as they began to play, then the moment Spencer didn't know he was holding his breath for. The lights shone upon Y/n and she began to sing. Spencer watched in awe as she jumped around the stage with her band, dressed in a breathtaking black leather outfit, her blue and pink hair flowing with her. God, he wanted to run his fingers through that hair. Every time she made her way to his side of the stage his breathing would speed up and his heart would skip beats.

Spencer chugged the rest of his drink, feeling the alcohol go straight to his head. Seriously, how many shots did that bartender put in there? Whatever, he revelled in the light feeling it gave him. He started to loosen up and move his body with the music, following along with the people surrounding him. The girls in front of him took notice, and they screamed and yelled and grabbed onto his arms, pulling him into their little group.

They were clearly surprised that someone in a business casual getup was in a bar dancing and singing along to the live music, and they loved it. Spencer actually found himself having fun. He took his eyes off of Y/n to laugh with the girls around him as they each took turns grabbing his hands and jumping up and down with him as they sang along.

“I had a no good really bad messed up day!” They sang, or more like yelled, along. Spencer didn’t even realize that they had gathered their own little crowd that was cheering them on as they let loose. 

He also didn’t realize Y/n had moved onto the next song because he was having so much fun, until he looked up at a particular lyric and found her staring right at him. 

Spencer lost the motor function to his body. His new crowd of girls continued to dance around him as he breathlessly watched Y/n make her way across to the stage to his side as she sang, eyes locked on him the whole time.

“I brace for the damage. You’re perfect, I panic. So happy, it’s tragic,” Y/n sang, and as she got closer to Spencer she pointed her finger right at him. “Yeah, I want you like that.”

Spencer’s breath left him. The girls started screaming louder as Y/n pointed at him, and they shook him around in excitement that he was getting noticed by her. 

Y/n gave him a wink, and Spencer felt as if he was 15 again, like he was going to faint because he just got noticed by his crush. 

Not able to spend her whole set standing there looking at Spencer, Y/n continued on with the next song and moving about the stage. But Spencer noticed every chance she got, she was now sending looks his way. It made his heart flutter every single time.

“Do you know her?” One of the girls around him asked. Well, more like yelled to be heard over the music. Spencer bent down to reply closer to her ear so he wouldn’t have to yell as much.

“No, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her.”

The girl smiled and laughed, and for a second Spencer thought she was about to make fun of him. Here he was, clearly older and at a bar fawning over a much younger woman who would probably never give him the time of day, she was so out of his league. But the look she gave him said anything but mockery.

“What’s your name?” she asked instead of pointing out the obvious facts that he didn’t really belong in this crowd.

“Spencer. What’s yours?”

“I’m Ellie. It’s really nice to meet you, Spencer.”

“You too. Thank you for dancing with me.”

“It was my pleasure. I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I might lose you in the crowd but I had so much fun!”

She was gone before he could even say goodbye. 

Spencer spent the duration of Y/n’s last few songs on stage taking it all in. He was finally seeing her in person, and she was even better live than in her tiktoks. And not to mention just absolutely gorgeous. His heart squeezed at the thought of never getting to tell her just how beautiful she was. But like he had thought earlier, she was out of his league and he didn’t really belong with this crowd.

When Y/n sang the last note of her last song, the bar erupted into shouts and applause, clearly having loved her performance. Spencer joined right in with everyone. He watched intently as Y/n bowed, thanked her band, and then she turned around and blew a kiss right to Spencer. 

He didn’t know how to react. He just stood there stunned and watched as they made their way off the stage. His crowd of girls tried to get his attention and talk to him, but he just thanked them for a fun evening and turned to leave. 

Before he could make his way out of the bar to meet up with the team, his path was blocked by a rather large security man. 

“Are you Spencer?” he asked in a voice so deep it vibrated Spencer’s ear drums.

“Yes, sir.” he swallowed.

“Come this way.” The man walked along the side wall and Spencer had no choice but to follow. Soon they made their way into a staff only entrance door, and Spencer wondered if he was about to be arrested for being 40 years old in a bar. Because what else had he done that would warrant an arrest tonight? Not that being old in a bar was arrest worthy either, but it was all his hazy brain could think of right now. 

Clearly in the backstage area, Spencer spotted members of Y/n’s band packing away their instruments. He tried to crane his neck to see if he could spot her, but the intimidating security man led him down a secluded hallway and then into a room with an unmarked door. He didn’t say anything else as he left Spencer standing there, closing the door tightly as he exited the room. 

Confused, Spencer looked around him. The lights were dim, and there was a couch pushed against the far wall, and the opposite wall held some mirrors above tables that were covered in beauty products. A clothing rack was next to the door, where a few outfits hung from. 

Is this a dressing room? Why did I just get put into a dressing room? He questioned himself. 

After what felt like hours but was probably just a minute or two, he heard a voice behind him that made him jump.

“You can take a seat, you know.”

It was Y/n. 

Spencer turned around and his breath caught in his throat. She was no longer wearing the black leather outfit she wore on stage, but instead was in a baggy t-shirt with a pair of leggings. Her face was free of the stage makeup, still a little bit wet so Spencer assumed she had been in an adjoining bathroom since he didn’t see her when he first walked in. 

“You're Spencer, right?” she asked him. 

Unable to form words right now, he nodded his head yes, making her smile. He cleared his throat so he could find his voice. “How did you know?”

“I recognized you from your tiktok profile. You like a bunch of my stuff, it’s hard to miss.” Spencer blushed at her words, at being caught admiring her. “I kept checking your profile, hoping to see you post something but you never did.”

“My friend kind of made me get the account. And then I just got hooked,” Spencer confessed.

“On tiktok?” Y/n laughed. “I know, right. It’s such an addictive app.”

“No, not on tiktok. On you.”

He managed to make Y/n speechless this time. 

“Well, flattery will get you everywhere.”

It took Spencer a while to realize an important fact, because he was too busy being distracted by how beautiful Y/n looked so close in person. But once his head cleared a little bit, he remembered.

“Wait, how did you know my name was Spencer? I didn’t catch this earlier because I was distracted by how beautiful you are, but I don’t have my name on my tiktok profile.”

“I know, Dr. Reid.” Y/n said in a sultry voice. Dr. Reid was the name he went by on the app, as chosen by Penelope. “I got my friend Ellie to ask your name on the dance floor. She didn’t disappoint.”

“Ellie is your friend?” He asked, dumfounded. That girl he thought was about to make fun of him was actually spying on him for Y/n? What was happening tonight.

"I only thought it was fair I got to know your name since you already knew mine." Y/n chuckled. "And I've got to know, are you actually a doctor?" She eyed him up, taking in his outfit and dishevelled curly hair. Her big brown eyes looked hungry, and Spencer was getting lost in them.

"Yes but not in the medical sense. I have PhDs." He said quickly, not wanting to get all geeky and into details about his schooling. On any other occasion he would, but in Y/n’s dressing room? Not the time.

“Well, Doctor. Take a seat.” She pointed to the couch, and Spencer did as he was told. Y/n followed soon after, sitting right beside him. Practically on his lap. He gulped as he tried to keep his hands to himself.

“You were really great tonight,” he said.

“Thank you. You looked like you were having fun, surrounded by all those girls,” she replied with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Yeah, uh, they were fun,” he croaked out.

“I know something we could do that would be even more fun,” Y/n said as she ran the tip of her finger up and down the length of his thigh.

“Aren't I a little old for you?” Spencer whispered. He was clenching his hands, trying not to reach out and grab Y/n, which he so desperately wanted to do. 

“How old are you? 35?”

“I’m 40.” he stated.

“You don’t look it,” she purred into his ear. “So what’s a little 10 year age gap? My parents have a 13 year gap.”

She was straddling his lap now, inches away from sitting on the growing hard bulge in his pants. She ran the tips of her black painted nails up the length of his neck, tracing his adams apple as it bobbed with each gulp he took.

“Oh,” was all he could manage to reply.

“I gotta say, I was surprised to see you tonight. I’ve been looking for your face in the crowd of all my shows, never knowing if you’d ever actually show up or not.” she confessed.

“You have?”

“Of course. You’re probably my most active tiktok follower in terms of engaging with my posts. I was curious to see you in person, but then you never showed up.”

“I’m not from this state. It was just one of the best coincidences that could happen that made it possible for us to come tonight.” Spencer was surprised his words were coming out so clear, since his thoughts were consumed with the knowledge that this beautiful woman was sitting on his lap, hands now in his hair and massaging his scalp. He let out a content sigh and closed his eyes, loving the feeling when she would scrape across his scalp with her nails before soothing the area with the pads of her fingers.

“Us?”

“My team.” he nodded, completely unaware that he wasn't making sense to her.

When she removed her hands from his hair he opened his eyes again to find her watching him.

“Team?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. She knew exactly what her actions were doing to his brain.

“My work team. We were in the city on a case, I convinced them all to come tonight so I could watch you live. So I wouldn't have to tell them all about my crush on an out of my league much younger woman,” he spilled.

“Crush you say?” Y/n spoke in hushed tones, getting closer to his ear so he could hear her better. She started to place feather light kisses along the length of his neck, causing Spencer to let out little gasps of air with each one. He was having a hard time not jutting his hips up to meet her, to gain that friction he wanted so badly. “What is it you like so much about me?”

“I, uh, I really liked your voice, at first,” he said, eyes closed as Y/n dug her hands back into his hair and tugged his head back.

“Keep going,” she urged.

“It drew me in, and then I was mesmerized by the colours of your hair.” Spencer stopped to hold back a moan as she started to suck on his neck. He would certainly be hiding a hickey from the team tomorrow morning. “The way you move on stage, it was just so addictive to watch. I kept staring at your tattoo’s, wondering how much further they went around your body under your clothing.”

Y/n pulled away from his neck and Spencer followed, desperately wanting to feel her against him in any way possible. 

“My tattoo’s, huh? You want to see them?” she smirked as he nodded his head like a toddler excited for his new toy.

Spencer finally let his hands touch her. He placed them on her thighs that were still straddling his. He dug his fingers in, as a way to keep himself grounded as he watched Y/n remove her shirt. He stared at the vine tattoo that made its way up her arm, around her shoulder, and tapered off by her collar bone. It took Spencer’s brain a second to catch up and realize that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath her shirt, and now he had a front row view of her breasts. Right in between and below them was another tattoo, a lotus flower, with what looked like dripping stars and sparkles falling from it. 

Spencer sucked in a breath at the glorious sight, and he dragged Y/n’s hips closer to him, pulling her right on top of his aching member still trapped inside his pants.

They leaned in towards each other, meeting in the middle with a searing kiss. Y/n’s hands got to work unbuttoning Spencer’s purple shirt, as his hands went up and tangled into her hair. Free from his shirt, Y/n dragged her nails up and down Spencer’s chest, sending shivers throughout his body.

“Stay right here,” she whispered, pulling away from the kiss and planting her palm against his chest to push him back into the couch when he tried to follow her.

Spencer tried to regain his breathing as he watched her hips sway while walking towards the bathroom. She was back in less than a minute, with something grasped in her palm. Spencer was about to ask what it was but she dropped down to her knees in front of him and her hands went right to the zipper of his pants. All thoughts forgotten.

He lifted his hips a little to help her pull the pants down, and she took his boxers off with them. Spencer was left sitting naked on the couch with his cock straining hard for attention. 

Left speechless, all Spencer could do was watch as Y/n leaned in and took his dripping cock into her mouth. The sudden warmth was intoxicating, and he threw his head back in a breathless moan. 

“Fuck,” he groaned when she added her hand to twist and pull the length of him that she couldn’t get into her mouth. 

Her other hand scratched and massaged the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. He was really starting to love those long fingernails of hers.

It was only a couple of minutes of him, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, before he felt like he was getting too close. When he looked down to find her staring up at him through her eyelashes, he had to pull her off. 

“Jesus,” he said at the sight of the string of saliva from his cock to her mouth as she moved away. Spencer wanted a chance to taste her the way she had him, but before he could voice his desires she produced a condom from beside her on the floor. That must have been what she had been carrying back from the bathroom. 

Speechless once again, he shivered as she rolled the condom over his length and stood up, pushing her own pants and underwear down before placing a knee on either side of him. Holding him still, she slowly lowered herself onto him until she sat flesh with his hips.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” she moaned. 

Spencer could feel how tight of a fit it was. She rocked forward a tiny amount, getting used to the feeling of being so full. Spencer took the opportunity to lean forward and capture her left nipple in his mouth. He sucked the hardened bud into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it to soothe the sting each time he gave it a little nip. The pleasure was going right to Y/n’s core, as she squeezed her walls each time he took her nipple between his teeth. 

He brought his hand up to massage her other breast, rolling and pinching her nipple between his fingers as Y/n’s rocking hips started to gain momentum. Her hands went to his hair, holding him in place against her breast as she lifted herself up and back down onto his hard length. 

“God, you feel so good,” she moaned as her movements grew faster. Spencer moaned in agreement against her boob.

When she let go of his hair, Spencer drew back from her breast to take a breath. He placed both his hands on her hips and helped her speed up the movements, pulling her up his length to the tip and then slamming back down. He would push his hips up at the same time, going in as deep as he could. 

He threw his head back onto the couch, his chest straining with each breath as he tried to keep up. He fixed his eyes back on her breasts as they bounced with each thrust. Mesmerized by the sight, he took one of his hands and started to trace the outline of her tattoos. Something he had dreamed about many times before. 

“You are so beautiful,” he said when he finished his path along the black ink and made eye contact. 

Y/n smiled and brought him in for another kiss. It was an awkward angle, and their movements faltered a bit as they fought for dominance in their kiss. Spencer bit her bottom lip and pulled, and Y/n groaned in pleasure. 

“Fuck, I never thought this would actually happen,” Spencer said. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tried to pull her in closer. Their thrusts were losing momentum as they both were nearing their climax.

“You’ve thought about this before?” Y/n asked.

“Every night for 182 nights,” he replied, staring into her eyes.

The earnest look on his face sent her over the edge. She threw her head back in a moan and squeezed tight on his cock buried deep inside her, finally letting go as her pleasure came to its peak. Spencer wasn’t far behind. He pulled Y/n back against his chest as he desperately thrust his hips up into her, seeking his own release which came a few moments later. He buried himself as deep as he could go and let out a toe curling moan as he finally came.

They stayed together like that, Spencer holding Y/n against his chest, as their breathing started to level out. And then slowly, Spencer helped lift Y/n off his lap and placed her beside him. Quickly he removed and tied off the condom, throwing it into the garbage nearest the couch, before pulling her back into his side.

“I want you to know, I’ve never had sex backstage in the dressing room with anyone before. This was my first.” Y/n laughed quietly. 

“Neither have I,” Spencer joked. 

They sat like that for a while, both naked and holding on to each other, enjoying the post sex bliss. Spencer’s brain started to work again, thinking about how he would ever be able to function without Y/n now that he had had a taste of her in real life. 

“So, you said you weren't from this state? You were just here with work?” Y/n asked after a while. She wanted to get to know him better.

“I work with the FBI as part of their behavioural analysis unit. We’re based in Quantico, Virginia and we travel all over the country when local police need our guidance.” Spencer explained. 

“The FBI? Wow, you just got 10 times hotter.” she joked. She absentmindedly started rubbing her hand up and down his chest, and Spencer signed at the comforting feeling of it. “There’s so much about you that I want to learn about.”

“Me too.” Spencer agreed. “How is it being NYC’s biggest rock star?”

Y/n laughed. “I wouldn’t say the biggest. But performing is just what me and the band do at night sometimes. It’s what I’ve based my tiktok account around. But I’m actually a baker. I own a cafe near central park.”

This news shocked Spencer. He looked down at her in awe.

“A baker? And a rockstar? You’re living both lives.” he smiled.

“Some would say I have the best of both worlds,” Y/n laughed, proud of her joke but it flew right over Spencer’s head. “Ever heard of Hannah Montana?” She asked him with his puzzled expression.

“Is she your friend?” he asked.

“Never mind,” Y/n laughed. “You’re so cute. I’d really like to get to know you better. Virginia isn’t that far from New York.” She said shyly. 

“I would love that.” Spencer agreed. 

One of her band members knocked on the dressing room door and informed Y/n that the bar would be closing soon and they should head out.

The pair finally detangled themselves from each other, pulling their clothing on and sharing small shy smiles as they cleaned up. Spencer helped her fold and pack her alternate outfits into her suitcase while she threw all her makeup into her carrying case. They walked out hand in hand back into the bar, where Spencer was surprised to see his friends still hanging around. They let out hoots and hollers as they caught sight of Spencer holding Y/n’s hand. He blushed to his hairline at their innuendos. Even though they were correct, he didn’t want everyone else left in the bar to hear as well.

On their way through the bar they passed Y/n’s band, where she introduced him to the other 3 members. Turns out they all worked at her bakery, and have been friends since high school. Spencer wanted to get to know them better but his team was begging him to come over and introduce his ‘lady friend’ as Emily drunkenly yelled across the bar.

Spencer apologised to Y/n’s friends for his team's behaviour, but they laughed it off, clearly amused. He pulled Y/n along beside him as they made their way to the bar where they were sitting.

“Y/n, these are my friends and co-workers, Emily, JJ, Tara, and Luke. Everyone, this is Y/n.” 

“You’re the girl from his tiktok!” JJ yelled.

“What?” a confused Spencer replied.

“Oh, come on. You don’t think we see don’t see you watching her videos all the time? The second I saw her walk on stage I knew why you suggested this place.” Emily laughed. 

“Spencer has gotten in trouble at work before for having his phone out watching your tiktoks.” Tara explained.

Spencer sheepishly looked down at Y/n, biting his lip in hopes that she didn’t think he was too pathetic. But she just looked up at him with an adoring smile.

“You are so cute,” she said, and stood up on her toes to meet him in a kiss. 

The team started yelling to get a room and faking being disgusted. 

“We already did,” Spencer quipped.

Finally they were ushered out of the bar by the owner, who thanked them all for coming and congratulated Y/n and her band on a great performance. 

The pair hung back as everyone started to walk ahead without them.

“We have a flight leaving in the morning, but if you wanted, you could come back to my hotel room with me?” Spencer nervously asked.

“I would love to.” Y/n said. Spencer placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side and they started to walk after the group in front of them. 

He couldn’t believe his luck tonight. And even though he would be leaving Y/n in the morning, he had her phone number programmed into his phone now and he could call her whenever he wanted. And like she said, New York wasn’t that far away.

Thank you so much for reading!

[nekoannie-chan]

Wrong chose

Wrong chose

Title: Wrong chose.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader, ? X Reader.

Word count: 952 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You think Steve’s gonna be with you for the rest of your lives.

Major Tags: Sad, heartbroken, time travel.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @caplanbuckybarnes Songs4Caplan Challenge with the song:

"Rolling in the deep by Adele."

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard

In a small hidden cafe, Steve sat in the corner, sipping a coffee while watching the people go by. You entered the café looking for Steve, they had arranged to meet there.

When Steve saw you, he looked up and smiled. You approached the table; everything had been so strange since the click.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I'm fine, I just needed a break,” you replied.

You and Steve spent the night talking, laughing and sharing stories.

Despite everything that had happened, the life you now led was almost what you had always wanted, except for one thing... As much as you had tried, you still didn't have a baby.

One night, days after the Blip, Steve came into the room, you noticed the confusion and pain in his eyes.

“I don't know what to do,” he confessed, taking your hands in his.

“What's wrong, Steve? “you asked him, worried.

“As you know, Tony has found a way to travel through time, which is what we used to get the gems and well I don't know, I was thinking...” he said, his voice trembling. I could go back and be with Peggy, and live the life I always wanted.

“You have to do what you feel is right,” you said, leaving the room, you knew that if you stayed there, you would cry.

Steve followed you and stopped you, kissed you with an intensity that made you forget everything else; and then without saying a word, he hugged me. You felt his tears in my hair and knew this was as hard for him as it was for me.

“I love you,” you whispered in his ear, knowing it was the last time you could say those words to him.

“I love you too,” he replied.

The day Steve would leave came; while he was surrounded by the others, you were at a safe distance, you thought no one saw you, but Brock noticed what was happening.

You and Brock had been in a relationship years before you met Steve, when Steve showed up, you guys split up.

And as soon as you saw him disappear in the time machine, you decided it was time to leave too, you knew your life would never be the same again.

A month later

You were startled when you heard someone ringing your doorbell, you had finally moved into the house your parents had inherited from you, Steve didn't know about it, so he wouldn't look for you.

You hardly ever had visitors, so you thought maybe it was the girl scouts selling cookies.

When you opened the door you were surprised to see Brock.

“It's been a while, you didn't come back,” he said.

“I have no reason to come back,” you replied, letting him pass.

“Ever since I met you, you told me you've always wanted to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. ”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer exists and you know it,” you interrupted him.

“It's because of him, isn't it? ”

You kept quiet, you hadn't told anyone what you had found out a few weeks ago.

“I can arrange everything so that they don't meet, but we need you...”

“No, Brock, I can't go back... I'M PREGNANT! “You blurted out, but immediately covered your mouth with your hands, you were never supposed to tell anyone that secret.

“He went away and left you knowing that.... “Brock clenched his fist; you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“He didn't know, I found out the day after he went into the past, he can't find out. ”

“Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. I never really stopped loving you and that baby needs a father. ”

“Brock... ”

Brock came over and kissed you.

You knew that your son would never meet his biological father, but he would have the perfect father as Brock immediately began to set up the room and everything they would need.

You gave birth to a beautiful baby boy who looked exactly like Steve. Both Brock and you decided that you would not tell anyone about the baby, you would protect him from everything and everyone, and you were not going to allow him to be separated from you.

One day, while you were walking with your son in the park Brock had gone to buy him the balloon he wanted. You turned around when you felt you were being watched, and that's when you saw Steve, you recognized him even though he looked different.

“I came back,” he said, approaching you.

“Why? “You asked him, trying to stay calm, you didn't want the baby to start crying.

“Because I love you and I can't live without you,” he answered.

“Steve, you can't be here,” I said, your voice starting to shake.

Steve looked at you in disbelief and then at the baby, he was confused, trying to understand what was happening.

“My son? “he asked, surprised.

“He's my son, we don't need you, he has the ideal father and it's not yours. ”

“But he is my son... ”

“I can't let you take him away too,” you said firmly. My son can't be part of your world. ”

Steve tried to protest, but you stopped him.

“You must go back to the past and live your life with Peggy. It's best for all of us. ”

“Peggy and I divorced, the children she said were mine... ”

“I don't care. I don't care. ”

“You'd better go, Rogers.” Brock appeared behind you. Steve was startled at the sound of his voice.

“You guys...? ”

“Bye Rogers “Brock carefully took you by the shoulders to lead you away from the place.

[theravenmuse]

Tagged by @kotias

How many works do you have in AO3? 55! A few of which are art or meta, but the majority are fics.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 329,403 words.

What fandoms do you write for? Almost exclusively Good Omens.

Top five fics by Kudos:

1. I Could Be Yours (E) - 614 Kudos

The version of Good Omens where Aziraphale and Crowley are a pair of horny immortals who enjoy engaging in very long, very elaborate, VERY INTENSE role plays.

This fic is currently part of a hostage situation and will not be updated unless/until that is resolved. I do have a handful of chapters written and ready to go though.

2. I’ll Cum Quietly (E) - 613 Kudos (for a one chapter fic? We were all a little horny after that ending, I suppose. 😆)

Aziraphale has a REACTION to Crowley saying that line. Spoiler alert: Crowley does not come quietly. XD

3. The Nightingales Were Just Sleeping In (T) - 518 Kudos

The one where Crowley falls to the bookshop floor, a sobbing mess, and these two idiots finally figure out they’re just on opposite sides of the same page.

4. Oh, Simple Thing, Where Have You Gone (M/E I keep changing my mind) - 490 Kudos

Let’s make it worse! And then eventually fix it, I promise.

Immediately post season 2, we’re going to find out just how sinister the Metatron’s plan is.

Still a WIP. I’m coming back to this one as soon as I catch up on my event things.

5. Show Me You Love Me? (E) - 406 Kudos

After dealing with a few unruly demons, Aziraphale has been crowned the local demon expert. This mostly means informing the local priests that they have in fact trapped yet another normal human and setting the poor fellows loose. That is until today.

Alternatively: Crowley gets caught by some enthusiastic humans and was likely well on his way to discorporation before Aziraphale steps in. Aziraphale tenderly cares for Crowley, and then there are love confessions, and then Aziraphale takes care of Crowley in a different way.

Do you respond to comments? When I have the spoons I respond to every comment, even the basic “I loved this” ones. But spoons have been in short supply lately so I’ve only been responding to comments that I have meaningful responses to.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh my. Isn’t that a question. And surprisingly, it does have a definitive answer. This was only the fifth fic I ever published. It’s the first dark fic I ever wrote. It altered the way I think about using horror elements in storytelling. It has very few hits and kudos. It remains to this day one of my favourite works, despite the fact that I’ve grown so much in my prose and story structuring since then.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year (E) Mind the tags. I did not do in depth CWs the way I do them now. All of the warnings are in the tags only.

A Christmas horror story in which Crowley accidentally releases the demon of Yule, Krampus. Intense horror elements throughout, especially at the end. There is no bright side at the end of this. There is no safety. There is no peace.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? This one is actually harder. I know I’m more known for dark fic, but I’ve written more than one piece where they’re just completely happy at the end. Nothing could be better. Because of that, I’m going to go with the one with the happy ending that means the most to me. That would be this one:

There were Angels Dining at the Ritz (G)

Seasons 1, 2, and 3 (I hope) from the perspective of a waitress at the Ritz.

Do you get hate on fics? Not really. I’ve gotten two hate comments over 30+ dark and/or intense kink fics. One of those accounts is perma-banned, the other got off with a warning. Try it, I dare you.

Do you write smut? Yes indeed. The kinkier the better. You didn’t ask, but this is my favourite soft smut:

Just Another Day in the Rest of Their Lives (E)

It's a soft sort of spice, being woken by your lover's kisses in the cottage you share in the South Downs. How long can they linger here, letting eternity pass them by?

And this is my favourite kink:

Submission (E)

Crowley is in one of his "bratty bottom" moods and needs some help calming down.

And finally, my favourite dark smut fics:

Belle Mort (E) - lovingly nicknamed “Necro”

Heaven is on to the Arrangement. Fortunately, Aziraphale has a plan to throw them off the scent. Surely hereditary enemies couldn't be fraternizing if one of them discorporates the other? Crowley would never agree to such a plan, of course, but they can talk about it after.

No Escape For the Wicked (E) - lovingly nicknamed “eggs”

Crowley has been Lucifer's brood bitch from the dawn of the Earth, a duty he can't escape after his treachery. When he is forced to return to the depths of Hell for his task following his betrayal, he finds a vengefully jealous master.

Craziest Crossover? I don’t know about craziest, but this Good Omens X The Sandman is quite a bit of kinky fun.

Desire (E)

Crowley has spent the last several thousand years keeping Desire at bay. He's had to. But after a certain night in 1941, when Crowley's defenses are shot and Desire comes in the shape of his angel, the demon at last gives in to a temptation of his own making.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I’m aware of. I do occasionally scour for stolen works through general Google search, but that isn’t a guarantee.

Have you ever had a fic translated? The first chapter of I Could Be Yours has a Russian translation. I’m unsure if the translator intends to do more. The lovely @nosferatini has also made a podfic of Platypi and Other Insignificant Topics of Discussion.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not that has been published yet. I have written fics based on other works and have had a few write fics based on mine. There’s a lovely comic up on Gleafer’s Patreon based on one of my own Patreon Exclusive fics. The Great Flood (available now to free and paid members on my Patreon).

All time favourite ship? Aziraphale/Crowley. Honorable mention to the crack ship I’ll go down with: The Bookshop/The Bentley.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Still unnamed. Serial art thief Anthony Crowley/FBI agent Ezra Fell. Slow burn. And I mean slooooow burn. Currently sitting at 150k words. It will be well over 400k when completed, I think.

What are your writing strengths? Intense emotion. Intense psychological elements. Putting just the right amount of feeling into a whump fic that the pain hits that much harder.

What are your writing weaknesses? I’m still a fairly young writer. I’ve only been publishing fic for four years. I’ve only really been writing for about fifteen. Because of that, I’m still evolving very rapidly. I see it the most in my prose. I’m still learning how grammar works among other things.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? It’s fine. It can help with the story immersion. I don’t speak any other language well enough to use more than the occasional short phrase. I do have an upcoming Rennaisance Era Pirate/Witch Crowley who says quite a few Irish Gaelic expletives.

First fandom you wrote in? Warrior cats. Never published but I do still have it somewhere around here. Written in pencil so it’s fading fast. 😆

Favourite fic you’ve ever written? YOU WOULD HAVE ME CHOOSE BETWEEN MY CHILDREN?!

Okay, I really did try. I scrolled through several times but I can’t choose. So instead, have the crack fic that I nearly got a heart attack over when someone sent an ask about it to Neil Gaiman’s inbox. 😳

Hey Sexy, Wanna Oil My Exhaust Pipe? (E)

The Bentley doesn't appreciate being left out in the cold while her demon gets it on with his angel. Fortunately, the bookshop is all too willing to engage in some fun times of their own.

Tagging: @nosferatini @theonewiththeshippinggoogles @naromoreau @startledplatypus @depressedpenguin2

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Pomegranate Seeds

Chapter 1 - AO3

A/N: After this chapter, this story will be posted exclusively on AO3.

The glares of his new classmates burned Felix as he exchanged pleasantries with Mme. Bustier.

If there was any doubt Adrien had already explained the… situation he caused with his impersonation, it faded under the strength of their looks. It was only two weeks after the anniversary of his aunt’s disappearance after all; no doubt the wounds he caused trying to defame Adrien were still fresh.

Particularly the wounds of the three girls who ended up getting akumatized because of his actions. He’d have to avoid them in the future in case they wanted revenge on him.

Mme. Bustier instructed Felix to sit in the back next to the black-haired girl who had confessed to Adrien in her video. It was both good and bad: good, because it kept him out of eye-sight from most of his classmates, bad because there was little doubt in his mind that the black-haired girl would try to get revenge for his cousin.

Typical Adrien, always ready to let others do his dirty work for him.

Felix nimbly dodged a kick from Lady Wifi on his way up. He’d researched his class before insisting to his mother that he should attend school in Paris, specifically in his cousin’s school with his cousin’s class. He’d found Lady Wifi’s blog—he didn’t care enough to remember her real name—early in his research, but it was only useful about discussing her classmates’ akumatizations. The rest was trashy articles about the Parisian heroes love lives.

And the false exploits of another one of his classmates, but that was blackmail for another time.

Meeting the weight of Lady Wifi’s glare with a glower of his own, he smirked when she flinched away from him. Amateur. Was she even trying to be intimidating? Felix was a cold-blooded blue-blood; he’d stared down the most intimidating members of the fashion and movie industry and held his own. One teenage girl was nothing compared to famous photographers, directors who thought they could order him like an intern, Audrey Bourgeois, or his uncle.

He slid into his seat by the black-haired girl. From the back, he could look out over the rest of the class. He had full view over everything: the cutesy posters on the walls, the top of Bustier’s desk, his classmates whispering and passing notes. All was visible under his eye. The windows behind him were good too, reflecting all the light the room needed onto his desk and back, keeping him warm despite the winter weather.

He watched the others calm slightly once he left their immediate sight, turning their attention back to the liar he’d learned about last night. Bafflingly, they listened with rapt attention to her story about convincing some prince to forgive convicted criminals. She spared an obvious look behind her, locking eyes with him, as she mentioned that everyone deserves a second chance.

How despicable of her, using his own unpopularity to make herself look better.

He was almost impressed.

Almost.

He glared at her and she gasped, folding in on herself so everyone else would take pity and comfort her. Her acting wasn’t even that good; she couldn’t cry on command and her shoulders shook, not like repressed sobs, but like she was violently shrugging. He directed children who were better actors.

But despite the girl’s bad acting, her seatmate rushed to comfort her, rubbing her hand over her back and murmuring in her ear. Their surrounding classmates, excluding Adrien who did his best to ignore Felix, glared back at him.

He couldn’t help himself. He smirked.

“Excuse me.”

At the stern words, Felix turned his attention to a new problem: the black-haired girl. Out of the entire medley of videos Adrien had received on the anniversary of Aunt Emilie’s disappearance (a month after his father’s death, for which he’d received no word from Adrien, not even a text of condolence—), her video had memorable. She’d confessed her love to Adrien, sappy and heartfelt and so genuine that he couldn’t help but pity her. Adrien wasn’t a good person to fall in love with; he was more likely to string her along to ‘keep the peace’ than reject her outright.

But that was then, and this was now. And now, she was an enemy with close access to both his person and personal items. Who knew what she could do—

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she continued, a light tilt to her head. “I’m the class president, so feel free to ask if you need something. However, I must ask you not to start anything with the rest of the class.”

He sneered. “I assure you, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng—I am not here to start anything. That won’t stop me from finishing it though.”

“That’s fine,” she agreed. Felix blinked in surprise. “Self-defense is self-defense. But I would make sure you have evidence that you weren’t the one in the wrong. Certain members of staff tend to victim blame.” Her eyes flicked to the front of the class, where Mme. Bustier was trying to bring the class to order.

“That’s absurd.”

“That’s reality. I just thought you ought to be warned, considering how everyone already hates you.”

“Oh? You noticed that, didn’t you?” Voice dripping with sarcasm and a curled lip, Felix looked down at her. “And you’re different, right? You’re willing to be on my side, defend me from your bad classmates, comfort me when your friends bully me?” He scoffed. “Save it.”

She sighed. “Think whatever you like, but I’m not trying to use you. I’m not a liar. Besides, I doubt they consider me their friend anymore. If they harass you, then they’ll harass me too.”

He studied her for a moment. She looked tired: dark bruises hung under her blue eyes and little strands of hair stuck out of her pigtails, like she hadn’t bothered to properly dress her hair. “…You’re not in the back out of choice, are you?” He already knew the answer.

“That’s right.”

“You said that you’re not a liar. You were referring to the Volpina girl?”

Her eyes widened. “Her name’s Lila Rossi. You know she’s a liar?”

Felix rolled his eyes, promptly forgetting the name before it stuck. He didn’t want to remember anyone. “I can do basic research, yes.”

“You shouldn’t bring it up to the others then.”

“What? You don’t think they deserve to know—”

He watched warily as her frame trembled and her fists clenched. “Of course they deserve to know; they just won’t listen! They’re so trapped in the lie that Lila’s an amazing person who needs their help and that she’ll help them fulfill their dreams that they can’t listen to reason.” She calmed herself down, breathing deeply. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry. But they hate me because I tried to tell them the truth. Don’t give them another reason to hate you.”

He scoffed. “And I’m supposed to assume you don’t hate me? I saw your little video, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. I know how you feel about my cousin. And I was the one who tried to ruin his reputation.” So show your true colors, went unsaid.

“I don’t hate you, M. Graham de Vanily.” He scoffed again. “I don’t! I’m angry at you, yes, but… I would like to give you a chance. I don’t know the circumstances that led to your… behavior two weeks ago, but regardless, I’m willing to give you a chance at friendship… provided that you don’t do something so cruel again.” She looked away, her cheeks ruddy. “If you want.”

His eyes narrowed. Pretty words from a pretty girl, but did she mean them? “Do you always forgive so easily?”

“I try to.”

“That’s a good way to get stabbed in the back.”

She smiled, close-lipped and bitter. “That has been happening a lot lately. It’s alright though; I’m willing to risk another stab wound.”

He hadn’t expected that. What on earth had been happening in Adrien’s class? They seemed close before, from what he saw online and through their videos, but to isolate and hurt one girl to the point that she’d be willing to risk friendship with him out of all people…

Before he could think of a response, Mme. Bustier finally called the class to order as they started their lesson for the day.

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice@dur55@kris-pines04@18-fandoms-unite-08@moonlightstar64@bee-a-garbage-shipper@sol-o-shade@kittyotakunoir666@tinyterror333@allieoftheenemy@marichat00@xgxmxtx@two-faced-biatch@feliciakainzofspades@evil-cricket@emilytopaz@spicybelladonna@chocolateherringtacofan@user00000003@wannajointhecrabcult@happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca  @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen  @sxltinette @kittydemon9000 @thetrashypanda423 @unoriginalmessess @toodaloo-kangaroo @troycattribunny

[genshinluvr]

I need to see something before I establish the villain of my upcoming series 🤔

I might have side villains, but I’m not entirely sure on that decision. This series focuses on only four Genshin men while others will make appearances here and there. I’m still working on this fic. With how busy I am with school as I’m nearing my graduation, I probably won’t be able to post the new series until either close to my graduation or after it. This poll is created so I can see who is the preferred villain of the series before I make my final decision.

Q: Will the other Genshin men who make appearances in this series fall in love with the MC?

A: Most likely not.

Q: Who are the main love interests/pairings for this series?

A: Ayato, Al Haitham, Neuvillette, and Zhongli are the main love interests. There are no side love interests— even if there is one implied, that person will not be one of the “official” love interests for this series.

Q: What happens to Lumine since she’s not in the options of villains?

A: She’s still in the story, but she’s more of a side character doing her own thing.

Q: Why choose Lumine over Aether to be the good twin?

A: One of my friends chose Lumine over Aether, so Lumine is the one who helps MC adjust to the new world.

Q: Is this an Isekai’d fic?

A: Yes, but a it’s chaptered fic with plot unlike the other isekai’d series I’ve written in the past.

Q: Will this be posted on Tumblr and AO3 or only specific websites?

A: The first chapter will be posted on Tumblr, but the rest will be on AO3 because people on Tumblr don’t keep up with chaptered series. In the past, I’ve had people complained about the word count of my fics being way too long, so everything will be on AO3. The first chapter will probably be cut off at half of the actual word count. Unless it’s highly demanded to be posted on both Tumblr and AO3, the new series will be an AO3 exclusive.

[cartoon-buffoon]

Here's a Cartoon Cat' fanfic idk if I'll post on my AO3 so semi-exclusive story, btw this is inspired by my favorite stories of all time and a song. If you can somehow guess which story and which song you get a gold star for doing a goods.

TW for: gore and body horror

Reruns

Throughout all of time it had gone long undisturbed. What lurked behind a friendly cartoon cat's smile was a nothing more than sinister force that loved to indulge in the fear and havoc it could wreck. With powers beyond mortal comprehension it had no competition, it reigned supreme at the top of the food chain with not one to challenge it. Using these powers it was at first content with the simple disappearances that it would make, people here and there who went down dark alleys, abandoned crossroads, desolate malls, old warehouses, all of them suddenly vanishing without a trace. Picking people off, dragging them away screaming, and torturing them while it ripped them apart was fun but eventually that grew boring for the faux feline. It craved more, more and more which it consumed and caused chaos. Soon entire neighborhoods vanished, bloodstains and body parts laying in homes where the residents should be. From neighborhoods it advanced to entire towns, thousands gone just like that. Towns turned to cities, cities turned to counties, counties to states, states to regions, by the time an entire area suddenly went dead a mass hysteria infected the world. Mortals assumed the apocalypse was upon them and they'd be right, once its presence was known it need not hide anymore.

That was the fun part for it, once everybody knew of the Cartoon Cat as something more than just urban legend or myth it grew bold. Dashing through streets and populated areas it grew hands and arms out of its back in order to snatch man, women, child, animal, all that crossed its path in order to shove them down its gullet. At one point it even ceased to feed, it opted to just bite down on the skulls of its prey popping their heads sending skull fragments and blood across the pavement only to discard the rest of the bodies like trash. It didn't need food anymore, it merely killed for the sport and thrill of it, thrill of seeing the vain attempts to run or fight, it's absolute favorite was when it couldn't spot anybody out in the open. That's where the real game began. With the mortals getting smart they hid to the best of their abilities, trying not to be found and maybe outlast this entity posing as a black cat that made mincemeat out of the people they knew. One by one over the span of only a few years all their hopes and dreams were crushed though, each who hid was found with the Cartoon Cat spending extra time to make their deaths as painful as possible, a sort of reward for making the game just so entertaining. Like all things though the game had to come to an end, with no more mortals or animals the world fell into ruin. With the mortal's death soon the other cryptids who stalked the earth died out, without life to feed from they starved and perished. With no mortals left, no games to play, no fear to strike into people, the same too was happening to the Cartoon Cat. It was the very things it killed that kept it intact, its demented existence was kept alive by those who acknowledged its existence.

At the end of all there was naught to do but be consumed by the hollow rot and bloodlust that he used to consume the mortals.

It sat on where it originally called home, the abandoned mall which it used to lurk. With all humans gone nature had reclaimed it as well as most of the rest of earth. Vines creeped up the side and trees sprouted from the foundation, gazing at a setting sun the Cartoon Cat couldn't help but find irony in the one thing having the last laugh and outliving it was the very ground it walked on. The ground it smeared with the blood of billions. Alas it wasn't completely alone though, after all while most cryptids did rely on a food source there were creatures like it who either held a purpose or relied on belief to keep them alive. While not all of them were extra dimensional the mortals roughly classified those they deemed otherworldly or alien as "Patron Saints", while The Cartoon Cat itself was deprived of such a title for being "too evil" that didn't stop them from grouping it in with the rest. It was one of those who it was grouped in with which showed up as its time was nearing the end. The patron saint of guiding lost souls and a bearer of warning decided to pay the thing who ruined the lives of the mortals it tried to warn a visit, the Long Horse as it was aptly named. Its neverending infinite neck climbed up the building and it held its head up beside The Cartoon Cat, staring at it with its empty sockets.

This sure was a surprise to the cat, it was acquainted with the skull headed creature but it could hardly call it a friend. The Long Horse spent a good deal of its existence warning the mortals of The Cartoon Cat, but now there was no one left to warn. They were polar opposites but in the end it didn't really matter, nothing mattered considering they were both dying. The feline glanced at the creature out of the corner of its eye and saw this clear as day. Fractures and cracks had accumulated onto its skull, its spine that held up its skull looked brittle like the smallest bit of force could break the bone. The cat contemplated doing this, ending the thing that would ruin its meals here and now, but there would be no satisfaction in it, no fight to justify the kill, besides time would soon rapture them itself.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything"

The age old proverb of misery coming in 3s proved right. An uninvited guest made his presence known as he walked up to the two other cryptids, the individual in question being the patron saint of havoc and disaster. Negativity itself embodied into the form of a sharply dressed man with his face twisted upside down. His tone was smug and while the two showed signs of rot the man with the upside down face showed no signs of being affected, although his time on earth as it stood was too coming to an end. Despite this his tone was smug, seeing the two once powerful creatures weak before him made him absolutely giddy.

"Pardon my lateness I was checking up on the others, safe to say it's just us three left: the maggots lurking in underpasses all shriveled up and died, beak-face offed himself by ripping out his halo to open a gateway for his followers to only-he-knows, roady passed away in some animal graveyard, the big fella and his spawn huddled up before they faded, heck even that ol' siren's flesh rusted right off his bone" the man's twisted smile grew wider, the taste of their death's fresh on his tongue "oh you should of been there! I'm sure you would of loved to see it"

The Cartoon Cat remained silent, still staring out at the sunset. It didn't have words to spare, certainly none to that upside down headed bottom feeding leech.

This silence provoked the man to take another step forward, his shoes clacking against the mall's roof "oh come on, do you really got nothing for me smiley? Don't tell me you're scared of death now" the man's eyes fixated on the cat, trying to garner any sort of reaction as he spoke "I guess that's why they call you a pussycat for a reason"

If it was a reaction the man wanted it would be a reaction he would get. Even in its rotting state the Cartoon Cat held enough power to wipe that smile off the man's face. Turning to face him it bared stained teeth, its gums leaking blood from its maw.

It was at this point the Long Horse intervened, stretching in-between the two it acted as a barrier as both of its sockets on the side of its skull bore into the two cryptids.

"Oh come on skelly, don't you see this entire thing is his fault, what's he got to cry over?" The man with the upside down face brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to cover his mouth as he snickered "oh it just drives me WILD how much I can feel your pity for smiley over there! Even as you're about to die you hold no anger or rage towards the very thing that brought us all to our doom, it's comical really..."

The Cartoon Cat's flesh began to droop off its form as it stood and turned to face the man with his face upside down. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air and it hunched over, ready to strike at the patron saint who was trying to get a last meal out of both their emotions.

"Look at you" The man continued "Standing there with your sickly looking self, I do got to hand it to you though, I'm surprised your body hasn't caved in on itself yet, you using the last bit of power you have to stay awake?"

The Long Horse extended itself further into the air, its spine creaking and cracking in a way no bone should. Although it remained silent a strong gust of wind blew across the area making the man's tie flutter. It was a warning.

"hehehe...." The warning was met with laughter, the man was absolutely reveling in the moment and ignored Long Horse, looking over across towards the decaying cryptid "I thought you were stronger than this, are you really having the pacifist stand up for you? This is a new low for you truly-"

The wind picked up, the breeze growing stronger with each word the man said.

"Maybe if you used your brain instead of your stomach you'd realize this would be the end goal of your little massacre, but you didn't ever think of that did you? Instead all you thought about was satisfying that unquenchable thirst to kill but now you left yourself, and everyone high and dry, a desert without an oasis"

Gusts of air tried to drown out what the man with the upside down face was saying, but he knew all too well the cat could hear him. He continued, his tone more condescending by the second.

"Acting as if you deserve anything else other than this, you've reaped what you've sowed and that's the souls of all you saw, I may be throwing stones in a glass house here yet it takes one to know one which is why I can safely say you're nothing but a sad little speck from the void who wanted to hide behind some fake face in order to turn this world into your little playground"

"ENOUGH"

The Long Horse's voice echoed throughout the air, traveling on the wind as it fell onto the man and cat's ears. The deep, hoarse tone made the mall shake and the man go silent, although a pacifist and a creature of benevolence it had grown fed up with the mockery. What came around went around, karma physically manifesting as blood the man puked up.

Falling to his knees the man spoke through grit teeth, his smile morphing into a scowl "I see the truth isn't very welcome here, fine then" he stood up and fixed his tie "I'll be off now since I'm clearly unwanted, I hope that little stunt of yours was worth it skelly seeing as you don't got much life left in you" walking away the man couldn't help but get the last laugh in, taking a quick glance back at the rotting feline he uttered his words of departure "after everything is said and done I look forward to seeing you in the abyss... if we don't forget ourselves that is, until next time Cartoon Cat". The man's words were laced with venom, mocking the name that the cryptid chose for itself.

With that he was gone, vanishing into thin air leaving the only other two cryptids alive behind.

The two soon becoming one, The Long Horse's borrowed time was all spent up hurting the man with the upside down face. The cracks on it deepened and its spine turned to dust, its skull landing right in the hands of the Cartoon Cat.

The Cartoon Cat stared at the patron saint that lay in its palms, the horse's body and connection to the earth severed. It didn't know whether the creature was still alive or if the skull was merely the remains of that wish used to plague it, either way it couldn't help but embrace the skull. The cat's body was and time was coming to an end, the form it took destabilizing. Ovular pupils struggled to maintain their shape, they dilated growing wider and wider until the sclera was consumed by the pupil, eyes now pure white. With blurred vision the Cartoon Cat couldn't see the body it had made for itself, but maybe that was for the better because it sure could feel it. Blood and pus oozed out of every orifice on its body, mouth, eyes, even the pores that lined its body soon secreted a foul smelling combination of liquid that signified its decay. The skin it had started to sag off molded bones, its face particularly coming undone revealing the hideous visage of what truly lurked behind the mask. Not one would be left to view it though, instead all that there would be was silence. While it still had time left and the sounds of death dripped off his form it's mind began to ponder what it could of done differently.

It was too late now but it still wondered out of curiosity, perhaps the curiosity could have saved it if it ever considered the different options. Maybe it could have existed as a purely fear based entity, instead of downright killing mortals it could have given them a good scare, feed off that fear. Another idea was instead of killing humans directly it could have taken a page of that leech's book and be an omen that would cause disasters, toppling over skyscrapers or collapsing bridges, killing people that way. Maybe malice wasn't the road, maybe it could have avoided its current predicament if it was a bit more kind to the mortals it so eagerly killed. It could have been one of the few cryptids revered as something good, a savior to humanity, a patron saint which lived up to its name. Helping mortals advance, defending them against other entities that wished to feed off them. It could have gained just as much if not more attention by being kind to the mortals, instead of latching onto their nostalgia and using its form to harm it could have been a proper cartoon cat using their positive emotions rather than the negative ones to maintain on earth. All those ideas passed through its mind but it couldn't help but feel that no matter what it did the ending would be the same, even if given a second chance to repent it's body would still be melting into a putrid pile of meat. As its senses dulled and it could no longer feel the Long Horse's skull in its hands it knew death had come for it, or at least for its body that it inhabited.

Death or the death of its body was cold, not frigid but cold nonetheless, the feeling was almost familiar in a way. Despite its body finally rotting and its eyes closing for what would be the final time somehow it maintained its senses. It could still smell, hear, see, feel, taste, but all of them were numbed to the point it couldn't pick up on anything exact. What it could see though was an ever expanding black that stretched out for miles, a complete and utter void with nothing but itself alone in it, alone with a deafening silence. It wondered if this is truly where it came from, it had been so many years since it fashioned that form for itself that it had forgotten what the abyss was like, was this where it originated from? It doubted it strongly, although an abyss would be an apt description of what it saw it knew whatever it was in wasn't that. It still clung onto the memories of who it was instead of having all that stripped away, it was in a weird in-between. A limbo, a line where neither death nor life treaded, where time meant nothing and space was but a mere concept. Of course the only other thing was the silence, the silence which allowed it to be alone with its thoughts for what would be an eternity.

Or at least, that's what it assumed.

No, by some miracle it seemed this wouldn't be all that existence had in store for it. A voice broke through the silence and drew its attention, what would have been death was interrupted by the unsure words of man. A man who sounded confused and scared, an all to mortal emotion.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

Its eyes opened back up to find not its body rotten and diseased but instead perfectly intact. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark allowing it to see everything in clear view, the scenery was that of its mall before nature took over, before its global massacre. Down the hall shined what one could only assume was a flashlight of someone intruding on the space it took shelter in. It didn't know how, why, but it nonetheless knew that in some way it was brought back to either before its giant mistake or to a new world entirely. That didn't matter though, what mattered was doing something different this time around. Standing up and letting its long body graze the ceiling it emerged from its corner and towards the mortal. All those ideas that had ran through its head while it died were quickly forgotten, one idea prevailing among them.

"Huh? What's that?"

A grin formed across its face going from ear to ear. The end would be the same now matter what it did, so as it stepped into the light it knew what it would do instead.

"Wha-... What the fuck..."

With a newfound appreciation for the mortals it hunted it would take time this run around. After all this run wouldn't be that different, bones would break, skin ripped clean off, tears of those who begged for mercy would fall on the ground.

"Oh god... OH GOD!"

As it lunged forward ready to make the mortal suffer it knew the exact process this time around. It would savor each and every kill it came across, prolonging and allowing the mortals to eventually kill themselves off while it would take a singular one each time it pleased, drawing out their suffering as much as possible. It would savor the kill instead of letting greed force its hand to slaughter everything. After all, it was just one big rerun…

A rerun of its favorite episode.

[dead-dolphins]

FICS MASTERLIST

Hey everyone! Welcome to my fic masterlist! I’m so glad you’re here, and before you start exploring, there are a few things I’d like to share with you:

Exclusively on AO3: I only publish my work on AO3, so if you happen to see my fics floating around somewhere else, please let me know. It’s likely an unauthorised reproduction, and I’d appreciate your help in keeping my work safe and where it belongs.

Tags and Themes: While I do follow certain themes and motifs across my fics, each one has specific tags on AO3. These tags are there to help you navigate the content and ensure it aligns with your preferences. Please take a moment to check them out before diving in—this way, we can both avoid any awkward or uncomfortable situations.

Tumblr AUs: If you’ve enjoyed any of my AUs on Tumblr, you’ll find their final, polished versions on AO3. Tumblr asks are fantastic for sparking ideas, but when it comes to writing, I put a lot of thought into my decisions, and the final product is always what you see on AO3.

No Post-Publishing Changes: Once a fic is published, I typically don’t make changes or add new chapters in between those already released. While I don’t foresee this changing in the future, if there’s ever a significant update or adjustment, I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop through my platforms.

Thanks so much for your support and for being part of this community. Writing is a joy, but sharing it with all of you makes it truly special. I hope you continue to enjoy the stories, and I look forward to hearing from you! Feel free to reach out if you have any questions or just want to chat about the fics.

Happy reading!

──✦ Through the Night — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Cabin fic.

It’s through the night when Eren’s mind doesn’t stop thinking while his hands don’t stop tracing the profile of the sleeping woman who rests at his side. The boy loses his faith and sinks alone. And it’s through the night too when Mikasa's sweet touch calms his demons. “We'll be free. The two of us, just wait”.

──✦ White Mustang — One shoot. Modern Au. Smut.

At a party packed with wealthy people, Mikasa is too bored to try to function with the dynamics of that environment. Just when everyone seems to be minding their own business, someone suggests her to illegally escape, even if it is just for a few moments. Destiny? The Mustang car parked in the empty back lot.

──✦ Snowdrops— One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Cabin fic.

Eren lifts his gaze green as the summer forest to meet Mikasa's pearly sparkling eyes. How lovely she is, he quickly thinks. "You can join us looking for snowdrops next Christmas. This time we'll wait for you. I promise." He nods with small tears of affection accumulating in the lines of his eyes. He likes that beautiful feeling. "Of course. We will."

──✦ Accidentally in Love — One shoot. Modern AU. Goth Eren & Normie Mikasa.

"She's so pretty, she's outstanding everywhere, and she also studies a difficult degree. Meanwhile, just look at me! I haven't left my goth stage since I was a teenager! I'm a complete disaster!" When a goth boy finds himself smitten with a cute girl (who happens to be his best friend), he's faced with a challenge: overcoming his shyness to ask her out on a date.

──✦ Love is a War — One shoot. Greek AU. Ares & Aphrodite retelling.

Just when the warrior thinks the girl will walk silently away, she turns around, dazzling him with her grey gaze. He quickly concludes that her eyes are not like stars. They are like distant galaxies in the universe that shine brightly, like sparks produced by the clash of the metal of two swords. “My name is Mikasa.” She looks up at him with the corners of her lips turned up, her cupid's bow so deep and so… captivating. “The goddess of love and beauty… or so they say.” “Eren,” he says, introducing himself, after a few seconds that taste like an eternity. “God of war.” In which the God of War falls madly in love with the goddess of love.

──✦ I apologise if you feel something — Short multi/chapter fic. Modern AU. OG Metalhead Eren.

“Maybe we could make it, you know… more private.” Mikasa thinks about it for a few moments. It isn’t a secret that Eren usually has one night standing with his fans. If she agrees, she knows that she’ll become part of a seemingly long list. As much as Eren, the vocalist of “The Rumbling” is the boy she has had a crush on for quite some time, is it worthy being on that list? Maybe, just maybe... yes.

──✦ don't ask, don't tell — One shoot. Modern AU. Mikasa/Eren/Mikasa

“We can make you feel better, you need it.” One of them tells him with her tender tinkle voice. “You've been so lonely lately, haven't you?” “Don't think about it too much, Eren.” The other girl demands with a fearless tone. “You need us.” Eren could have pushed them away, he could have finally run away, because he never told either of them his name. However, he closes his eyes and lets them put a pill on his tongue that he swallows with pleasure. Then, everything goes black…

──✦ All He Ever Wanted — One shoot. Modern AU. Inspired in Around the corner by ili-akkaman.

The day his nose met the strength of her fist smoothly transformed into days riddled with secret kissing in the same house as Carla and Faye; behind the curtains, in the kitchen, or in the garage. Dating secretly from Levi, only around the corner from Mikasa’s house, with the significant risk of being discovered at any time. Yet when they were alone, all the prior tricks they did with fidgety hands fissioned and burst into something wonderful. They invariably ended up rubbing together, tangled up on Eren's mattress of soiled sheets, utterly disregarding Mikasa's curfew.

──✦ Scarlet — Ficlet. Canon divergence AU. Scarlet With inspired.

And at that moment, it all became crystal clear to her. The four years of bliss, the cabin in the mountains, and the unborn child were nothing more than a long dream that had finally reached its end. Welcome to the real world, Mikasa.

──✦ The Promised Princess — Longfic. Medieval fantasy AU. aka Lord Eren & Princess Mikasa. ONGOING

“I'm not sure how to describe it to you, but I saw you, Mikasa, in the deepest of my wolf dreams, I saw you. It makes me think that perhaps… Perhaps we were always meant to be together.” When the last rays of summer kiss the lands of the Seven Kingdoms, a spring-born princess is betrothed to a Winterlord. With small traces of an immemorial connection between dreams, they will soon realise that it is not simply the promise of a king that has drawn them together.

──✦ Chemical Hype Boy — Longfic. Modern AU. aka Actor Eren & Idol Mikasa. ONGOING

“I’ve reached a point where I can’t even picture a life without you anymore, let alone breathe. You’ve taken over my world, become my everything... My foolish heart? It’s not mine; it’s yours—all yours to take and hurt if you want, Mikasa.”  Everyone knows that A-list actor Eren Yeager hates idols. Yet his life is abruptly disturbed when he meets Mikasa, a top idol who has trained with blood, sweat, and tears to find her spot on stage—being him her biggest inspiration. A relationship, tinged with flavours of secrecy, ignites between them. But can it last when their not-so-similar worlds threaten to keep them apart?

FLOWERS SERIES — Set of one-shots inspired by the eremika cabin with an accidental pregnancy.

──✦ Growing Flowers — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Cabin fic.

You know, we never did get married.” “I didn’t think it mattered to you,” she answers. “Honestly, I feel like we’ve been married for a long time already.” Eren’s laughter, though somewhat strained, rings out as if he’s made an effort to do it. “Well, you’re right about that,” he concedes. “I’ve been married to you since I met you. But if you need a ring…” He reaches into his pants pocket and retrieves two wedding rings, their origin a mystery known only to him. “Here, this is for you.” “Eren…” Mikasa’s voice trembles, and she fights to keep her composure. She doesn't want to break down. She should not. She must not. She cannot. “Thank you,” she says instead, allowing him to place the wedding ring on her finger. Yet Mikasa secretly believes that the red scarf serving as the baby pillow in the basket is her true wedding ring. Months after their daring escape from the ravages of war, two soldiers find themselves confronting the bitter reality that the dreams they once held dear still persist. Flowers grow in Mikasa's belly, and Eren does nothing but cultivate them until his last breath.

──✦ Blooming Flowers — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Epistolary sequel to Growing Flowers.

Please, when my time comes, wait for me on the other side and hold my hand, Eren. Rest assured that I will recognize you instantly, I always did, and I always will. Perhaps, there, we can live a long and happy life together. Wouldn’t it be wonderful? Now and always yours, The girl who never gave up on you, Mikasa. Mikasa grieves by writing letters to her most beloved, recounting the events that have unfolded since he went away.

──✦ Whitered Flowers — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Epistolary Sequel to Blooming Flowers.

Thank you for the life you have lived, for the strength you have shown, and for the love that has never faded. You are, and always will be, the most extraordinary girl I have ever known. Our journey together is far from over; it is simply moving to a new and beautiful chapter. You and I, Mikasa, we will be eternal. Lovingly yours, The boy who sought freedom, The one who loves you the most, Your husband, Your man, Eren. PS: I am waiting for you on the other side and trust me, I am ready to hold your hand. In the afterlife, Eren responds to his most beloved's letters.

UPDATED: 14/08/24

[flamehairedwritings]

Stray: Chapter Three

Characters: Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader 

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 6.2k

Summary: Ghost has a fine time making you admit you need want him.

A/N: Chapter Three of Six. A chapter posted every Monday!

Entire Story Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, enemies are lovers, porn with plot, they're not nice people, but are they

Chapter Tags:  Angst, simon says some not nice things again, simon literally says, angst, dub-con, just to be safe, mdom, rough, nipple play, slight edging, hold the orgasm, multiple orgasms, throat holding, slight choking, slight overstimulation, biting, marking, gloves on, one spank, slight fight for dominance, a little switchy, reader gets one over on Simon, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie

Read on AO3

Stray Masterlist

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites. I do not consent to my work being used for AI purposes.

─

Chapter Three - Club 31 High

“The shit people wear these days.”

“I don’t know, I think you’d look lovely in tassels.”

“Fuck off, Gaz.”

He hears Gaz chuckle in his earpiece, making him sigh as he adjusts his grip on his rifle, continuing to gaze through the scope at the street below.

More like back-alley, actually.

A short queue of masked people are waiting to be let through a rusting metal door, a big bloke with shades on even though it’s fucking night taking their names and checking them by speaking into a walkie.

“I think he’s more of a leather man.”

“Shut up, Soap.”

“Look at that handsome fucker there, arse out an’ all. There’s your look.”

“Can we keep the channels quiet, for fucks sake, there might─”

Ghost breaks off as a figure enters the field of his scope, striding down the alley, heels echoing.

He knows those heels.

And he’s never lucky enough for things to just be fucking coincidences.

“Ghost? What’s goin’ on?”

He exhales a long, exasperated breath as he follows the figure, thin-strapped black dress with thigh-high split touching the ground, the square, low cut neckline pushing the figure’s tits in and up tantalisingly, the silky black, wavy wig reaching down to the waist.

The mask that’s resting on top of it is the final giveaway.

Why can’t it just be a fucking coincidence.

“Ghost?” Gaz prompts.

“There's been a complication,” Ghost grits out.

The complication in question strides past the queue, and smiles at the bouncer who smiles and nods familiarly.

And when the door is opened for you, you look up, find him up on the roof, smile, and pull the half-skull mask down over your face.

And then you pass through the door.

“Fuck,” Ghost hisses, lifting his head and swiftly getting to his feet.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Keep your eyes and ears out, boys. I’m goin’ in.”

─

Deep purple and blue lights flash quickly, and music blares. He can barely fucking see or hear. But thankfully he’s fitting right in, every single person here masked up and in either some kind of uniform, fancy suit or dress, or barely anything. Anyone and everyone is welcome here, as long as your name’s on the list.

His certainly hadn’t been, but they’d scoped out a back entrance earlier in the day, through the cellar, and he’d only had to evade a couple of bar staff before he’d found his way here.

‘Here’ is Club 31 High, as exclusive as they got, and probably fucking gorgeous to other people. Marble columns and floors, plush red seats and curtains, chandeliers, it seems more suited to opera and orchestras than the sultry, Deep House music that’s thumping throughout the chambers. People grind and rock against each other, off their faces on drugs or alcohol. He has to move around the edge of the rooms, passing people kissing, sucking cocks, fingering, and fully fucking in the darker corners.

Anything goes here, as long as your name’s on the list.

He scans each briefly illuminated face, trying to find yours, or, really, the mask you seem to think would be so fucking funny to wear. Some people grab at him along the way, trying to pull him onto the dance floors, or rub against him, caressing him. He passes by swiftly, trying to get through quickly without drawing too much attention. He’s spotted some bouncers here and there, and there’s got to be cameras everywhere, though how they can pick anything up is a wonder.

Gritting his teeth, he heads into another chamber, this one bigger, the ceiling higher. It’s even louder and darker in here, and, moving down the steps into it, he wishes he’d brought his fucking headset. It wouldn’t look so fucking weird to wear it here.

He scans the crowd, but it’s nearly fucking impossible, people are dancing too much and the lights are flashing too much and─

A hand slides across his lower back, around his side, and someone stands in front of him, both hands resting on his vest. He’s about to step away, disappear into the crowd, when his eyes lock with yours.

“Hello, Simon,” you say with a smile, though he lip-reads it rather than hears it.

How can anyone fucking hear in here.

As if hearing his thoughts, you slide your hands up, wrapping your arms around his neck, and only have to rise up a little higher due to the heels to rest your lips against his ear.

Even then he can only just hear you.

“I knew I'd get you out dancing one day.”

“The fuck are you doing here?” he shouts into your ear.

“Having a girl’s night. And we were told strictly no boyfriends, so shoo.”

Stepping back, you release him, smile lingering, and turn, melting into the crowd.

“Fuck sake…” he hisses, following after you swiftly.

People move out of the way, too far gone to be annoyed at being shoved. His eyes are fixed on the back of your head, and then, when you stop suddenly, he nearly collides with you as you turn to him. Raising your hands and arms above your head, you sway your hips, and he rolls his jaw.

“Let’s fucking go,” he shouts, knowing you can lip-read, too, though no one would have a hard time understanding him.

Your blood-red smile widens.

Turning around, he thinks you’re about to set off again when you actually take a step back.

And then you lean back against him, settle your hands on the back of his neck, and grind your ass back against his cock.

Raising his eyes to the pitch-black ceiling, he pushes out a harsh breath.

For fuck’s sake.

You don’t stop, rolling your hips, arching your back, able to find the beat of the noise and make it seem like music to him.

His fingers flex at his sides.

No, no, no.

Shoving you away, gritting his teeth, he watches as you turn to him, lips lifted in a wide smile.

A game, always a fucking game.

He can see you’re about to move again, disappear and have him searching like a fucking dog, and he won’t have that.

His hand darting out, he grips your upper arm and moves first instead, pulling you through the crowd. You don’t hit at him and if you’re shouting, he can’t hear it. Though you’re just as likely to not want to make a scene as him.

At the edge of the room, he spots someone heading out of a door into this room and heads to it, pulling you through it into a small, circular chamber. A marble table is at the centre, with dozens of white roses in a large vase resting on top of it, and as the door swings shut behind you, it does a fantastic job of muffling a large portion of the music. Not enough, though, and it’s still too public here. He pulls you towards another door, marvelling at how you still haven’t said a word, and pushes it open. There’s a long corridor, doors on the left, a mirror that stretches all the way down on it on the right. How anyone could see themselves in it is a mystery, though, as the lights are so dimmed you could barely see your own face.

Pushing the first door open, using the handle, he finds it’s a bathroom, a small, really fucking fancy one.

Perfect, but not this one. He pulls you down the corridor, right to the end, and you still don’t say a word, heels echoing.

Those fucking heels.

Reaching the final door, he pushes it open, finds it empty, and then pushes you in, releasing your arm. He steps through after, locking the door behind himself. It muffles all sound of the outside, he thinks most likely by design, these bathrooms not just for pissing and shitting, but fucking too.

And what a bathroom to fuck in. The toilet is to his left, the grandest he’s ever seen, made from the same marble as the floor and walls, a thick red rug is in the centre of the room, in front along the far wall is a plush red loveseat, and to his right, a marble counter stretches across the short wall along with a mirror, with a sink cut into it and what must be designer products in the corner. The light’s not as dim as it was out in the corridor, but it’s still low.

What he wouldn’t give for some clear fucking strip lighting.

His attention returning to you, he watches you, your hands behind your back, that fucking smile still in place.

Hang on, hands behind your back…

“Come here. Hands where I can see them.” He moves forward, and you raise your hands, empty, as you lift your chin and inhale a breath.

He thinks he might see your lips part before he bends down, but that’s probably just from taking the breath.

He can’t help his gaze from briefly dropping to your heels. Yeah, they’re the ones.

Leather, platform, thick straps, heavy gold buckles at the ankles.

He remembers the cold feel of them against his shoulders. 

Shoving the memory away, he starts to roughly pat and feel at your legs, searching for weapons.

He hears you exhale a laugh, widening your legs obediently when he taps a hand from one to the other. “Oh, Simon, they take weapons at the door, they’re in the lovely cloakroom.”

“All of them?” His hand moves up the thigh where there isn’t the split, and he pauses when he feels steel against his gloves. Lifting his head, he arches an eyebrow at you, watches your smile widen, and then slides his fingers under the holster and pulls sharply, ripping the knife from your thigh. He tosses it behind him, making a mental note of where he thinks it lands. Moving his hands to the other thigh, then out onto the silk material of the dress, he slides his hands up your hips, over your stomach, around your back, and then to your waist.

It’s now your turn to arch an eyebrow as his hands near your chest, swiping between and under your tits.

“Do you really think I could conceal anything else in this?”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. Turn around.”

He makes you before you can, gripping your shoulder and spinning you to face the mirror. The sudden action makes you have to press your hands down onto the counter to steady yourself. Your lips twitch as he slides his hands up your hips and across your back. It’s cut low, though, to the middle of your shoulder blades, so it doesn’t take him long.

A hand moves up your bare skin, up the back of your neck, under the hair, feeling along the scalp of the wig.

You hum gently, closing your eyes as your lips twitch again, and his hand quickly leaves.

It goes instead to your mask, which he slides off, and inspects the inside.

“Really fucking funny, wearing this.”

You meet his gaze in the mirror. “Admit it, it turns you on.”

His lips press together, and he tosses the mask onto the counter. “What’re you doin’ here.”

“Well, I was very much enjoying myself, and then you just grabbed me like a brute and pulled me in her─”

“Stray.”

“Simon.”

You tilt your head, a smile lifting your lips as you gaze at him in the reflection.

He, though, is stone-still.

“It’s not fuckin’ funny anymore, Stray.”

Your eyebrows raise and your lips part in faux-surprise. “Oh, is this about what happened at the warehouse with Angelo?”

He hates the way you say the name, nearly purring it.

“You nearly had me and the boys killed.”

“But none of you did die, did you─”

“I said nearly.” The bark of his voice has you silencing yourself. 

For a very brief moment.

“So, what, I’ve betrayed you, have I, Simon?” You snort. “That’s your own fault.”

He still hasn’t moved.

“Did you think I was going to hurt you. When we were there.”

Silence.

You’re looking at him in the reflection, mouth in a thin line, and he’s looking at you.

You don’t speak.

His mask and the dim lighting hides the flexing in his jaw.

“Do you think I’m gunna hurt you now?”

He needs to know.

He hopes you don’t fucking realise how much.

Silence stretches on again.

He doesn’t ask again, but you know he won’t move until you do.

You keep looking at him a little longer, though.

You did hurt me. You broke my heart. You betrayed me. And you don’t even know it.

Lifting your chin a little, you give him a light smile. “No. I wouldn’t let you.”

He exhales a breath, something easing in his chest but not enough. “Is that right. You know, you’ve put me in a fucking position here─”

“No, Simon, it’s you who’s put me in a position.”

Your far-too-pleased with yourself smile returns as you press your ass back against him.

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t move. “I’ll finish. You’ve put me in a fucking position where I could, no, should, walk out of here, let you go, let this all be done. Or…” Suddenly, he grips your hip, hard enough that you hiss in a breath. “... I could repay you for what you did at the warehouse.”

You panic for a moment that Soap told him, but, no, the fury in his eyes tells you otherwise.

You know what a grateful Simon looks like.

“Repay me? You’ve just been moaning about how awful it was.”

“Well… You were working so hard to make it up to me, weren’t you.”

“‘Make it up to you’─”

“Grinding on my cock like that. You were practically begging for forgiveness.”

You laugh, your head tipping back slightly.

“Oh, you’re so─”

His hand suddenly darts up, gripping your jaw under your chin, tipping your head back further as he simultaneously takes a step forward, pressing you against the counter.

“No, you don’t get to fucking talk unless I tell you to,” he murmurs against your temple.

If you obey now, right now, then he knows you’re in; in once more in this twisted fucking game he should end but he just fucking can’t.

He watches you in the mirror.

Your eyes slide down to meet his.

And you don’t say a word.

He exhales a breath, dropping his chin a little so his lips are closer to your ear. “I’m gunna ruin you for him. It’ll be my cum leaking out of you, running down your sweet legs as you trot on back to him in those fucking heels.”

Fucking hell.

Your stomach twists deliciously as you gaze at him.

And you risk it. 

“Is that a promise?”

You can’t see him smile as he allows this one insolence. 

“It’s a given, love.”

Raising his other hand, he pulls the material mask over his mouth and then bites at your jaw and kisses down your neck.

You gasp and moan almost with relief as the hand then slides across your stomach until his forearm is against you, and he pulls you back further against him, closing the little space there is.

His vest causes you to have to arch your back though, your ass once more firmly against his cock, and he’s not going to fucking complain.

“Look in the mirror, look at yourself,” he murmurs, your eyes having fallen shut, and he bites at your jaw again as they snap open. “You’re going to watch all of this, and you’re gunna fuckin’ think about it while his cock’s inside you. You’ll be thinking of me and only me when you cum.”

Your breathing has sharpened, but there’s a burning in your eyes, some kind of anger there.

There’s probably a defensive quip for Vitale on your tongue, but you’re still behaving.

“Look at you, bein’ a good girl for me,” he murmurs, and your lips part on a sharp exhale.

He loves when you behave, almost as much as when you don’t.

His hand rises, and he tugs the neckline of the dress down, exposing your tits and making them lift higher. He rolls your nipples between his fingers, and he chuckles lowly as your knees buckle momentarily, a moan escaping you.

“Does he do this for you? He doesn’t strike me as a giver.” He moves his hand from your tits to your mouth, resting two gloved fingers against your lips. “Suck.”

You do, instantly, swirling your tongue as you find his eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah, good girl.” He indulges for a few moments longer, his cock twitching in anticipation and memory, and then he swiftly pulls his fingers away. Moving them back down to your nipples, he circles them with your saliva.

Your back arches as much as it can as you sigh out moans, remembering to keep your eyes open.

He mouths at your cheekbone, not giving you an inch of room. “How does that feel? Speak.”

“Good, so fucking good,” you breathe, trying to rock your hips back against him.

Ghost hums his approval lowly, breathing in the scent of your skin, a hint of fragrance there from whatever you’d put on it. 

“I want you dripping,” he murmurs, twisting, pinching and pulling your nipples, going from one to the other. “I want you aching for my cock until you think you’ve gone mad. I want you begging for me.”

He can feel your pulse through his hand spread across your throat and neck, his fingers gripping at your jaw still. 

It’s faster.

“Good, isn’t it, love. You dripping yet? Is your cunt soaked?”

Your body is on fire, his fingers so fucking good but it’s not enough.

Managing to turn your head closer to him the smallest amount, you try to find his lips, murmuring, nearly pleading, “Mmh, take your gloves off.”

He angles his head away. “They’re stayin on. And did I say you could talk?”

Suddenly his hand leaves your tits and grips the skirt of your dress, tugging it up over your ass roughly. You try not to appear too pleased as he chuckles.

“No knickers? You were wantin’ this, weren’t you? Wantin’ me?”

He brings a hand down on one of your ass cheeks, swiftly and sharply, tearing a soft cry from you.

“Speak.”

You exhale a laugh, unable to help yourself. “Your ego is almost as big as your─”

The grip on your throat tightens a little, for a moment.

“No smart words from you today, just the truth.”

The truth. How frightening.

Still, though, you smile.

“But that was the truth. And your cock is big.”

His lips are against your ear once more, voice low, demanding. “So tell me, then. You came here wanting it, didn’t you?”

You expect him to perhaps spank you again, play with your nipples maybe or caress your skin. But he gives you nothing. It’s maddening.

Licking your velvet-red lips, you exhale a long breath. “... Yes.”

You feel him smile.

“Good girl.”

He plunges two gloved fingers into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, hands pressing against the counter.

He nips at your earlobe. “I’ll allow that, only because you sound so fucking sweet.”

His fingers move instantly, fucking you slow and deep.

And he barely takes a breath before speaking again.

“How many fingers does he need to stretch you properly? Dainty little things, weren’t they. Does he have to work hard, poor fucker.”

And, yes, the anger’s there again, burning in your eyes, and your teeth are biting into your lower lip.

It’s satisfying to him, as fucking twisted as it is, that you so clearly want to snap and yell at him, but you won’t. For him. Because he said you can’t.

It makes his cock so fucking hard.

He wants to see just how good you’ll be, how much you’ll obey him.

What will be your breaking point.

“Does he cum first, or does he make you first? Countless times, like I can, like I do. Does he know what you sound like when you’re desperate, out of your mind, overstimulated but fucking begging for more?”

He slips a third finger in, still moving them tantalisingly slowly but deeply as moans fall from your lips.

Yet despite giving them to him freely, anger is still clearly blazing in your half-lidded eyes. 

And he can’t get enough.

“Do you moan and grip at him, beg him, hang on to him. Do you look up at him with those pretty fuckin’ eyes, beggin’ with them when your head’s too fuckin’ empty to form words? Do you─”

He catches himself.

Your words from the warehouse have been circling round and round in his mind since you spoke them.

And I love him─

Had that been it. Were you going to say that you love him fucking you.

Or that you love him. End of. Full stop.

He’d never know, and he hadn’t wanted to know.

He still doesn’t want to know.

Exhaling a harsh breath, he slips a fourth finger in.

Every breath you exhale is now a moan, one hand gripping at his forearm, and your other suddenly moves back, cupping the back of his head, your fingers pressing in.

He can feel your walls clenching around him, fluttering, and he groans against your ear.

“You gunna cum already? You been that desperate for me?”

He listens to you moan and mewl for a few moments longer, fingers flexing against your throat, before he orders, “Speak.”

Your legs are nearly trembling. “Yes.”

“Beg me. Ask me to cum.”

“Please, Simon, please can I cum, please, I need to, please─”

“Mmh, not yet. Hold it.”

You make a strained sound, eyes closing tight, and he fucking loves that you’re obeying.

But he doesn’t want to reward you. Not yet.

Lips against your ear once more, he watches you in the mirror. “Did he fuck you later, after we left, after we burned that place to the fucking ground. Did you ride him, did you tell him sweet little things to soothe his fuckin’ ego. Did you hold him─”

“Simon─”

“Did I say you could speak.”

There’s no anger in your eyes now, just… 

Why would you be sad. He doesn’t fucking understand it.

Are you that attached to the fucker?

Whatever reason for it… he fucking hates seeing it.

Softening his grip on your jaw a little, he turns his head slightly, lips pressing against your cheek.

“How does this feel? Does your clit need some attention, is it aching for me? Speak.”

“Yes,” you breathe again, knees bending slightly for a moment as you try to rock your hips.

His hand finally releases your jaw and lowers, and he walks you back half a step to give himself the room to slip his hand down your stomach to the slit of your dress, yanking it up so his fingers can find your clit.

You gasp sharply as he strokes at it, your body jerking slightly as you hang on the precipice of your orgasm.

He watches you in the mirror, your eyes closed, mouth open, chest heaving.

And still you don’t allow yourself to cum.

Opening your eyes, though, you beg him with them.

Fuck…

He presses an almost kiss to your cheek. “Cum for me, love. Go on.”

You cry out as you grip at his head, your back arching, and you cum instantly. Your pussy squeezes at his fingers, gripping them tight, and he grunts against your skin, pressing another nearly-there kiss to it.

“That’s it, good girl, cum all over my glove, give me it all.”

Your body jerks as you moan, and when it finally goes slack, your head leaning back against him, he smiles.

“That was a big one, wasn’t it. You’ve been fuckin’ desperate for that.”

You just try and catch your breath, your fingertips softening on the back of his head. He pushes your head to the side with his own, then drops his lips to your neck. 

“Speak,” he grunts as he bites your shoulder.

You inhale a shuddering breath, swallowing. “… Yes…”

“Good girl.” Pulling his fingers out of you, biting you again when you moan as they leave you, he groans lowly as he wipes his fingers on the ass cheek he’d slapped. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You hum somewhat weakly in reply.

Not weak enough, though.

You gasp sharply and your hips buck as he starts to stroke your clit again. Your eyes snapping open, you lock your gaze with his.

“You’re gunna cum again for me,” he murmurs against your skin.

Still sensitive, your hips buck again, but he’s stroking so lightly, so gently, though that’s almost making it even better. His other hand slides over your stomach, his forearm holding you against him again, your hips now only able to jerk a little.

The blissful pleasure of your orgasm has only faded slightly, so with each stroke he gives, it rises a little higher… but… and you fucking curse yourself… it’s not enough.

And he knows it.

“Need somethin’ inside you, don’t you,” he says against your ear, still holding your gaze.

You nod, your breathing long, deep and shaking as you try to regulate it.

He exhales a breath. “Not yet. And this time, you’re not gunna take your eyes off yourself.”

Fucking hell…

Dropping your hand from his head, you flatten both palms against the counter and shift your gaze to your own, and he chuckles quietly.

“Good girl.”

His fingers quicken.

Your teeth grit as you try to stifle a sharp gasp.

“No, no, don’t be doing that…” He’s looking at you in the reflection still, head leaning against yours. “… You’re gunna look at yourself and you’re gunna be loud.”

The way he caresses, circles and strokes your clit, the leather of his glove slick against it…

You’re leaning your head into his, hips bucking, and you give in, mewling loud enough to fill the space because you don’t care, it just feels so good.

He’s biting at your shoulder and neck again, too, almost with a sense of frenzy.

And then he starts talking again.

“What does he say when I mark you like this? Do you hide it from him? Do you avoid him?”

Muscles in your jaw jump and flex as you grit your teeth tightly

His eyes flick up to you. “Speak.”

“Yes,” you grit out.

“And what does he say?”

You stare at yourself, eyelids fluttering a little as pleasure sparks through you.

“Speak.”

Your jaw is clenched tight, teeth pushing into each other.

Suddenly, you turn your head closer to his.

“Kiss me.”

“No,” is the instant answer.

He’s punishing you, and you know it. 

It could be worse.

He could have left.

So why hasn’t he.

Why is he here, fucking you.

If you betrayed him, if he hates you that much, why is he here.

Why is he asking these questions.

Why does he care.

Does he care.

You’ll probably never know.

The anger that had been bubbling inside you, simmering in some kind of control, now explodes as you gaze at him.

How could he care.

Your elbow drives into his lower stomach, just under his vest, and then you slam your head back, the back of your head colliding with his nose and jaw.

“Fuck─ What the fuck─” he starts hissing, releasing you automatically.

Spinning, you shove him backwards.

“What─”

You shove him again, silent.

His brow is furrowed, eyes slightly wider. “Love, are you oka─”

You shove him again.

He falls back onto the loveseat with a grunt, and you straddle him instantly, gathering the silky material of the dress around your hips. His eyes narrow slightly in realisation then, his hands going to your thighs, gripping them.

“This what you want, huh─”

“Shut up,” you snap, releasing the skirt of the dress and tugging his belt open. “I don’t want to hear from you anymore.”

His mouth still exposed, you can now see the self-satisfied smirk he gives you. “You want my cock inside you instead, yeah.”

“Shut up.” You pull open the button of his trousers.

“You that desperate for me?”

“Shut up.” You yank the zip down.

“Do you cling at him like this─”

Your hand flies up, gripping his jaw. 

Leaning closer, you hiss, “Shut the fuck up.”

His smirk is now gone, and an anger that nearly matches yours smoulders in his dark eyes.

And then he knocks your arm away, so you punch his shoulder, then grab at his throat, your other hand going for his trousers. He shoves your hand away from his throat so you use both hands to pull his cock out as he fists at your dress, lifting it higher to expose your pussy.

From this angle, he can see it glistening now, wet, open and ready for him.

“Christ…” he hisses through gritted teeth, watching you position his aching, flushed pink tip against your hole.

Watches you sink down on him, his cock disappearing inside you.

He makes a strained sound in the back of his throat, balling your dress up in his gloved fists.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, Simon,” you breathe, hands now firmly gripping his shoulders.

Fixing your gaze on his eyes, before he can answer you start to move your hips, and you don’t want to be slow, you don’t want to tease, you don’t want to give him any gentle satisfaction at all right now, so you set a hard, firm pace, riding him aggressively.

“I bet your cock was hard the moment you saw me, and the way you came running after me… Who’s the desperate one?” 

His eyes flick up, locking with yours, and your entire body is taut, waiting for him to switch this once more, while also feeling pleasure burst and spark through you.

“I told him about your base and here you still are, fucking me, wanting me wet for you, marking me… like you don’t even care… and what if one of your boys had died─”

Snarling, he shoves your hands off his shoulders, grips them at the wrists and holds them at your sides.

“You’d better watch your mouth.”

You laugh, and you don’t know where it comes from. “Oh, have I hurt your feelings? I didn’t know you had any.”

He’s silent, the only sound his short, harsh breaths as you ride him.

You don’t look away. “Take the mask off.”

“No.”

“Take it off.”

“No─”

“Let me see you.”

He falls silent.

When he moves, it’s swift.

A hand darts up and grips the long hair of the wig, and he yanks, pulling your head back.

You cry out as your back arches, small, delicious bursts of pain sparking along your scalp where the wig is secured.

His other hand runs firmly down between your tits, to your stomach, to your hip, gripping it. It’s possessive, how he does it, and it pisses you off. Knocking his arm away so he releases the hair, you grip his shoulders again, nails digging in, and you lean forward until your forehead nearly presses against his mask, and you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, locking you in that position.

He pushes against your hip, trying to put some distance between you but you won’t let him.

“Look at me,” you hiss, and he does, stilling as your eyes lock on to each others.

And, somehow, neither of you speak.

You just look at each other.

His gaze is hard, jaw tight, and you just ride him as you grip at him. Ride and squeeze your walls around him until…

His lips part on an exhale, no, not an exhale… a moan.

Ghost moans.

The corners of your mouth lift into a breathless smile as you squeeze him again, desire surging through you.

He grits his teeth at the sight of your smile, low grunts coming from the back of his throat, hands now tight on your hips, and you feel something feral snarling and snapping its jaws inside you.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on…” you hear yourself murmuring, squeezing your slick walls around him every time your hips rise.

His mouth is open, fast, quiet breaths escaping him, and you want to kiss him, you want to bite at his lips, you want to have him kiss you fiercely and deeply in the way that shows you he cares, even if it’s just now, even if it’s just for a little while.

Your mouth hovering over his, you don’t, though.

Because he doesn’t kiss you.

Makes no move to.

Gasping as a wave of pleasure suddenly rolls through you, you realise one of his hands has moved, his gloved fingers now somewhat clumsily stroking at your clit.

There’s almost a sweetness to it; that he’s still wanting to give you pleasure, make you feel good despite both your previous words, despite the slight curling of your lip and his hardened eyes.

You hate him.

He probably hates you.

“Cum, cum for me…” you suddenly realise he’s groaning, fingers of his other hand gripping at your thigh, almost desperately.

Gritting your teeth, your nails bite into his shoulders.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him, you hate him…

“Cum for me,” you hiss, the pace of your hips starting to stutter slightly as your orgasm nears, dangerously close.

He’s staring up at you, unable to stop small moans and grunts from falling from his open mouth.

“Love─”

“Cum in me,” you command, and he inhales a sharp breath, hand darting from your clit to your hip, gripping tight, and then his hips jerk as he cums.

His eyes squeeze shut as he exhales a deep, shuddering breath, and your own fall shut as you moan, feeling his cum deep inside you, and the thought of it, the feel of it, the knowledge that, yes, it will leak out of you exactly as he intended, has you cumming, too.

Your head falls forward, leaning against his, and you hear his short, sharp breaths as you mewl, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, fisting your dress there.

Your hips slow to a stop as he breathes hard against your shoulder, and you try to soften yours, your arms staying around him.

The only sound that now fills the room is his breathing, and you just listen to it. Just feel him against you, inside you.

His hand flattens against your back.

His fingertips press in a little.

Gentle.

You pull back, press your hands against his chest and push yourself off of him.

His cock slips out of you unceremoniously, and he grunts as it does, but you’ve already turned away, adjusting your dress and flattening it.

You hear the metal of his belt clanking together as he tucks his cock away, before he zips his trousers up then secures the belt.

Pulling the top of the dress up over your tits, adjusting them, you then smoothe the dress down. Running your hands down the wig, you run your tongue along your lips, feeling the lipstick having collected in some areas. Smoothing and spreading it out with your finger tips, you’re aware of how silent he is behind you.

You hate him.

“This was the last time,” you hear yourself say.

“Sure it was.” 

Why is he still entertaining this, entertaining us.

You’re about to ask that exact question, snap, shout, scream it, when he speaks suddenly.

“You’re scared of Vitale, aren’t you.”

You still, hands paused in needlessly adjusting your dress again, eyes flicking up. Turning to him, you’re expressionless.

“What?”

He’s still sat down, hands resting on his thighs, mask back in place, eyes on you. “I saw it. At the warehouse. Why does he scare you.”

A corner of your mouth lifts a fraction. “Nothing scares me, Simon.”

“I did.”

You pause before you can catch yourself, so you make your mouth lift a little higher. “You didn’t. You startled me, there’s a difference.”

His eyes haven’t left you. “I know what I saw. On all accounts.”

Exhaling a breath, you push your hair over your shoulder. “Think what you like.” Turning away, you head towards the door.

“Stray.” 

His tone has you halting, but you keep your back to him, staring at the door. 

You hear him stand, take a few steps towards you.

“I know you were scared of me. I know that. What I don’t know…” You remain silent. “... What I don’t know is if you were scared for me.”

Silence.

He can’t believe he’s fucking said it.

Not even a proper question, just words, but words that have been rolling round and round in his mind incessantly.

He gazes at your back, that tautness in your shoulders, your waist moving as you breathe, your head slightly tilted down.

Then, you half turn to him… and there’s nothing on your features.

“Why would I be. I’m nothing but a whore, remember.”

A coldness spreads through his chest as he watches you go, his own, fucking regrettable words, in your voice, echoing in his mind.

─

Reblogs and comments make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future works! (Note: I'll only tag if age is in your bio) Sorry if the tag doesn't work!

Masterlist

Tagged: @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @gifsbysimplysonia, @ryethebrokengae, @poohkie90, @corvusmorte, @captainutsstuff, @ff-huntress

[random-introverted-blog]

I suppose you want to hear about...

Me! Hi!

So first things first, what is this blog? Despite this name, it's actually Not a Shadowheart exclusive BG3 blog. The name is just a play on a joke I made with some friends that there is a DEEP lack of Dark Justiciar Shadowheart and Dark/Jealous/Possessive content for her. While I, of course, get and love our precious, wholesome Selunite baby, there's a lot of untapped potential for her Sharran Side. There's already a whole post I made on why I think you can definitely pull off a Yandere/Obsessive Shadowheart if you're interested. Can find that post Here, if you're interested.

This blog will be

Astarion and Shadowheart focused. BG3 blog maybe a random aside thought?

Not everything will be Yandere/Dark

I would like to be heralded as a Meme Queen, thank you

YES, I write fanfiction too, there's no escaping us.

I have SO many prompts/ideas/drabbles to share with you guys too

Maybe an opinion or such, like the Yandere Shadowheart post

Requests? Don't trust myself to do them in a timely manner. Suggestions of things to write? All for those, hmu girlies

I write a longfic on AO3 called I Want To Live. You can find me... Here!

I also now write a story called His Star - His Queen and that can be found... Here! Or if you prefer to continue reading on Tumblr I have a master page I call the Chapter Index and the link can be found... Here!

My Tumblr name is different from my AO3. I have yet to transplant my drabbles to my AO3 but if you want to stalk and stare at the relative void of my page, you can find me Here! My name there is A Random Introvert.

My inbox is open in case you guys aren't aware. There's really no limit on what you could send in that I won't reply to.

My Masterlist can be found here!

If I'm perfectly honest?

I'm actually a Spawn!Astarion simp more

ALRIGHT PUT DOWN THE PITCHFORKS I'M JUST BEING TRANSPARENT HERE.

But I've always had a weakness for dark romance, yandere content, obsessive/possessive/jealous content, and Ascended!Astarion has that in SPADES. So does Sharran!Shadowheart and DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart just saying.

Hence why the profile picture and banner feature Astarion and Shadowheart. This blog is for both of them, as I simp both.

Now not to come across condescending or anything, I know most people are aware what a yandere is. But just in case there are some newbies/uninitiated in this sacred, unholy character trope. Never want people to feel awkward or unwelcome or even ashamed they don't know something.

There are many other tropes that tend to be interwoven into a yandere. It's hardly ever their only trait. You can learn the rest by reading that, and your own research.

Look, I may be a Spawn!Astarion simp but I'm very staunch in my belief.

This is above all a No Judgement - No Shame blog

We can all enjoy ascended Astarion or Obsessive Shadowheart or whoever else you want to make a dark character. We can, because we can all acknowledge that no one in a healthy frame of mind would actually want to be with a Yandere in real life. But here, in text and words, we can enjoy it for what it is. A fantasy. I have a partner (hi babe) who is the complete antithesis of a yandere. I am actively writing a double Yandere electric boogaloo fic on AO3. Which they actively read and I talk about often. Doesn't change that I want a healthy relationship. And if I ever got a hint that they were recreating the scenes I was writing, I would ***SPOILERS*** drop faster than Shadowheart's parents when she kills them that's dark and I'm not sorry nor feel bad for it ***END SPOILERS**

That said; I welcome you to this little blog of mine and wish to be welcomed to this fandom if you would let me.

I think we're going to have a lot of fun together

[nik-knight]

Nik Knight's Good Omens Fic Masterpost

I write a lot of smaller fics (and sometimes poems) for Good Omens, most often based off of art that others have made here on Tumblr. Below are links and short descriptions of each post. There are also AO3 links for some of my stories as well as longer chapter fics that are not featured here on Tumblr.

Lending a Hand: -This is a short fic based on a drawing from @lookitsstevie about Aziraphale helping out Crowley after he was injured from his Fall. It can be read on Tumblr here or on AO3 here. An Archangel with a Mug: -Another short fic based off of a drawing by @lookitsstevie; this one is about Gabriel being given a cup of cocoa shortly after losing his memory. This was written before season 2. It can be read on Tumblr here or on AO3 here. Sir Aziraphale Sneaks Out Again: -Yet another ficlet based off of a drawing by @lookitsstevie; this one is about Aziraphale as a knight sneaking away to read his favorite serpent a story. It can be read on Tumblr here.

His World in Her Hands: -A ficlet based off of a drawing by @camilleflyingrotten about Crowley begging God to save Aziraphale after the angel was lethally injured. You can read it on Tumblr here. It can also be found on AO3 here. We'll Meet Again: -A ficlet based on art by @gingerhaole about that night in 1941 where Crowley believes he only has a few hours left on Earth with his angel and decides he would like one last dance with him. It can be read on Tumblr here or on Ao3 here. Aziraphale's Nightmare: This is a ficlet based on @sightkeeper's art about Crowley consoling Aziraphale after a nightmare. It can be read on Tumblr here. The Angel He So Loved The World: -A poem based on art by @lejoursobre's art about how Aziraphale feels after leaving Earth post-season 2. It can be read on Tumblr here.

Suggestion Box: -A ficlet based on @lookitsstevie's art where Aziraphale offers Crowley a suggestion box as an olive branch. It can be read on Tumblr here. A Healthy Demon Needs His Rest: -A poem based off of @hg-aneh's art about Aziraphale taking care of a sleepy Crowley. It can be read on Tumblr here. Ineffable Catboys: - This is a multi-chapter fic based on art drawn by @hg-aneh. It is an AU where the lads are Catboys. This fic is unfinished, but still being written. There are several posts with art and chapters that you can find either on my blog or Aneh's blog, but the whole fic can be read on AO3 here or you can find the first chapter on Tumblr here. A Spark in the Darkness: -A one-shot based on another piece by @hg-aneh where Aziraphale falls and seeks Crowley out after discovering that he no longer feels anything on the inside. It can be read on Tumblr here.

AO3 Exclusive Fics

Where I'm Meant to Be: -A fic written shortly after the release of the season 2 trailer. It is a speculation of how Gabriel's situation might have been after he lost his memory. It is a continuation of An Archangel With A Mug. It can be read on AO3 here.

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Chapter 11

While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10

Chapter 11 summary: Dara and Crosshair return to town to get more intel, and Crosshair has a creative way of maintaining their cover when a few people get suspicious.

It was late afternoon by the time Dara returned to camp. Tech and Wrecker were stationed near the villa, finishing out their turn on surveillance, while Hunter and Echo rested outside the Marauder. Crosshair, it seemed, had returned before her—she had lost sight of him in the trees almost immediately—but was now sprawled on top of the ship, looking through the scope of his rifle into the distance. She gestured toward him after greeting the others.

“He tell you we’re going back later?”

Echo nodded. “He’s in a bad mood about it.”

“Big surprise.”

Hunter smiled a little. “Hope he didn’t drive you too crazy. What’s all this, then?” he asked, peaking into her basket.

“Dinner. How about you put those knife skills to use. These all need to be rinsed and then chopped.” Dara began unloading her supplies while Hunter and Echo looked at her with surprise. She raised an eyebrow. “What? We needed a reason to be in town, and I don’t like living exclusively on ration bars and dehydrated meals when I can help it.”

“She dug some of those out of the dirt,” Crosshair offered unhelpfully from his nest.

Dara rolled her eyes. “This may shock you, but that’s actually where food comes from.” Hunter gave the tubers a skeptical sniff. “Those need to be cooked before they’re digestible,” she warned. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She put them to work quickly in the Marauder’s tiny galley, chopping the vegetables and herbs she had purchased at the market as well as the fungi, then mixing seasonings and liquids into the mixture before cooking it down to create a filling. Hunter peeled and chopped the tubers with characteristic ease, vibroblade moving nearly faster than the eye could track it. At Dara’s instructions, Echo boiled and mashed them before they were mixed with a fluffy yellow powder to create a dough. She demonstrated to Hunter how to wet his hands and form the dough around the filling, creating neat little balls that they passed along to Echo to steam in batches. A pleasant smell, equal parts meaty, vegetal, and bready, began to fill the Marauder as they cooked.

At some point Crosshair’s nosiness won out over his aloofness, and he climbed down off the ship to sit in a corner and watch them, occasionally offering his snide commentary on his brothers’ culinary skills. Between rude remarks, he considered Dara carefully, although she resolutely ignored him, sparing him not a single glance. The foraging seemed to support her story of living off-the-grid, although that was also a field survival skill that the batch was reasonably familiar with. She seemed to be at ease cooking, dropping a bit of her guard and the charm that she used to disguise it, and her interactions with Hunter and Echo were amiable more than anything, although Crosshair’s jaw tensed occasionally at the way she had to brush past Hunter when moving about the tight galley.

When everything was prepared, Dara set out the tray of steaming buns on the table. “Alright, that’s it. Dig in,” she instructed, grabbing one in her fingers and taking a generous bite. Echo and Hunter eagerly helped themselves, extolling the virtues of Dara’s foraging skills and cooking lessons as they savored them. Even Crosshair let out a begrudging grunt of approval, which finally drew Dara’s attention to him.

“You didn’t contribute,” Dara pointed out to him critically.

He gave her a smug look. “I provided entertainment and moral support.”

She fixed him with a glare. “I think I should go back alone later. It’s important for us to try to get more information on Prium and the villa, and people find you unpleasant to be around.”

Crosshair raised one eyebrow. “People?”

“Me. I find you unpleasant to be around.” However Dara had managed to hold in her irritation since getting back, it now seemed to be breaking through.  

“Dinner was good, but you still have to take him,” Hunter interrupted, rising from the table. “We’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh? Will you?” Dara instantly shifted moods, smiling up flirtatiously at the Sergeant. He gave her a wink and a chuckle in response.

Echo gathered up the remaining food to take to Tech and Wrecker as they swapped shifts. “Next time we do this, I get to go to town and hang out in a bar with Dara, and Crosshair can go on the boring stake-out all night,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” she replied charmingly.

Hunter and Echo departed, leaving the pair alone again. Crosshair looked at her carefully. “You haven’t forgotten about our little conversation the other night, have you?” His voice was quiet, casually venomous.

Dara got up, removing their pistols from the basket, and fitting hers into the concealed holster between her shoulder blades before handing the other to him to hide on his person. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

***

The bar was more crowded than Crosshair would have liked, and he had the sneaking suspicion that it was because there was little else to do in the town. The guards that he had noticed outside the lab earlier were there, celebrating the end of their shifts with a green, frothing beverage that reminded Crosshair of swamp water. A few of the other patrons also appeared to be lab workers, judging by their uniforms; they clustered together in small groups, looking nearly as glum as he felt. He would have much preferred surveillance duty. At least it would be quiet.

The lab director had been conversing engagingly with Dara from the moment they had arrived, hardly bothering to feign interest in her fake husband. “So, what sort of projects are you working on now? Anything exciting?” Dara inquired.

Raab tapped the side of his pudgy nose—a little too flirtatiously, for Crosshair’s tastes—in response to her query. “Ah ah, I’m afraid that’s sensitive information. Although I can hint that some of our recent work promises to be quite crucial for the galaxy. Galactic safety and security, even.”

“Of course! We would be nothing without scientific progress. And—forgive me, but is it true what they say about Dr. Prium? I’ve heard he’s quite a visionary.” Crosshair thought he saw a stormy expression momentarily cross Raab’s face at that comment. Dara’s eyes were calculating; it hadn’t escaped her notice, either.

“Yes, yes,” Raab said, a little huffily. “We owe a great deal to our founder. He’s a brilliant man.”

Dara leaned in conspiratorially and rested a hand on Raab’s arm, ready to exploit the employee’s apparent resentment toward his boss. “Without a doubt. But I think we all know that so often the people at the top love to take the credit and pass the blame. So I just wondered if he’s as incredible as they say he is. I’m sure many people at the company are integral to its accomplishments. You direct an entire lab, after all.”

Raab preened a little under the woman’s attentions and chortled. “I must admit, Prium can be something of an eccentric. And very protective of his research. A bit paranoid, if you ask me, hardly trusts anyone.”

“Paranoid? Surely not. He must trust you, after all, you’re his right hand!”

Crosshair thought that she was laying it on a little thick, but sure enough, the Sullustan puffed up proudly and not a little arrogantly.

“Indeed! I daresay I’m the only one in the company who’s ever been to his home lab,” Raab boasted. Perhaps he was even dumber than he looked. 

Dara’s feigned confusion, drawing her eyebrows prettily together. “Home lab? But he has a top-tier facility right here in town, with a full staff.”

“Ah, yes, but he prefers to take on some of our special projects alone. Top secret, you know? He won’t even let his maids clean up after him down there, has to do it all himself! Can you imagine?”

Dara had the conversation well in-hand, and Crosshair allowed his attention to wander. She was good at getting people to talk, and he wondered, yet again, what it was that she was hiding behind all that carefulness. Since their confrontation the other night, she seemed controlled by an iron will; although she had protested against his involvement in her part of the mission, she had mostly just ignored him, not rising to his needling remarks, no rage or frustration peeking out beneath her mask. Irritation, yes, but she seemed dead set on not reacting, especially not in front of the rest of the Batch. She was getting along well with them; the dinner stunt had ingratiated her with Echo and Hunter, and no doubt Wrecker and Tech would be similarly impressed.

He needed to find a more efficient way to break her.

With a malicious smirk, Crosshair took advantage of Raab’s momentary distraction from the conversation as he greeted one of his passing employees and pulled Dara into his lap. She didn’t have time to protest discreetly before Raab’s attention returned.

“Hunter. What’s gotten into you?” Dara scolded lightly. She swatted at his chest, giving him a severe look which she transformed into apologetic before directing it at Raab.

“Young lovers! Can’t keep their hands off one another,” the Sullustan said, directing a sordid look at the both of them which raised Crosshair’s hackles. He didn’t like Raab imagining what the pair of pretend newlyweds might be getting up to in their private time.

Squirming a little, Dara continued the conversation with the scientist as Crosshair idly rubbed one possessive hand along her thigh, relishing her warmth under his palm. For a moment he was even grateful to be out of his armor and in civilian clothes; he could feel every shift she made, every slight shiver and reaction to his touch as her body pressed against his. Glancing around the bar, he noticed the guards from the lab were staring at them and glared back until they looked away uncomfortably. When he traced his fingers up to the nape of Dara’s neck, she finally broke off her chat with Raab.

“Well, I think we had better get going, since Hunter can’t seem to behave any longer. Thank you so much, Doctor, it’s been a lovely time.”

The scientist looked at her seriously, then grasped her outstretched hand, unexpectedly raising it to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “The pleasure was all mine. How wonderful to meet such an enthusiastic mind.”

Lifting Dara off his lap, Crosshair stood and nodded coolly at the Sullustan, and they exited the bar. The second they were in the moist, open air, Dara reached over and pinched his arm.

“What the hell was that,” she hissed.

He shrugged, mentally resolving to get her back for the pinch as soon as possible. Perhaps with a pinch elsewhere, somewhere it would make her jump. “We got what we needed.”

“I could have gotten more.”

“Yes, I’m sure you could have spent the whole night flirting. Would you have preferred me to leave so you could get on your knees for him and see what else he’d tell you?” That had done it; she was furious, clenching a fist like she was barely keeping herself from hitting him.

“You kriffing—” she began explosively, but Crosshair interrupted her, hauling her into the dark entrance of a closed business and pressing her up against the door. Before she could keep talking, he kissed her hard, memorizing the surprised squeak she made with enormous satisfaction.

“Eyes on us,” he breathed into her ear when she broke away. “Lab guards from the bar.” A shared glance told him that she understood before she pressed her mouth back against his, throwing her arms over his shoulders and running her fingers along the back of his neck and scalp.

Hungrily—there was no reason for him not to enjoy this while he could—he pried his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss, smirking at how she let him in to explore her mouth with barely any resistance. That wasn’t to say she was hesitant; in fact, her tongue met his eagerly, vying to taste him back with an intensity that shot a pulse like electricity straight to his hardening cock.

Crosshair nibbled her bottom lip, sliding his hands down her waist and along the curves of her hips, then pulled away to suckle at the crook of her neck, grazing his teeth along the delicate skin. Oh, how badly he had wanted this, to have the chance to pick her apart.

“Oh, Hunter,” Dara moaned a little more loudly than necessary. Fury swelled up in him to hear her saying his brother’s name yet again, goading him with it. Baring his teeth, he bit down harshly at her throat. He was hoping to hear another of those little squeaks, but having no such luck, he ran one hand along her ass and thigh before hitching her leg up at the knee to wrap around his waist and press her tightly to his erection.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she murmured. Crosshair exulted in the venom in her voice, enjoying it almost as much as the way she couldn’t resist pushing a little closer to grind his hard length against her center.

“So will you, burk’yc.” He trailed his lips down to her collarbone, tugging the top of her shirt down a few inches to expose more of her flesh to his attentions.

“Not here, darling,” Dara giggled, the malice back under control. “Why don’t we take a walk to somewhere more private?” Smiling wickedly at her, Crosshair let her leg drop to the ground and, keeping one hand controllingly grasped around the nape of her neck, led her through the dark streets in the opposite direction of the Marauder.

“Still watching?” she muttered a few moments later as they entered the forest surrounding town.

“They gave up following a few minutes ago, but we should take a roundabout way back to be sure.” Dara swatted at his hand when he made no move to release her.

He watched her slyly and let her go, inserting a toothpick in his mouth. She was seething, barely keeping her anger in check. Lovely, he thought.

“You couldn’t think of any other way to deal with that situation?” she finally spat out.

“Don’t forget, you’re the one who started all this, burk’yc,” he crowed.  

“Oh, but you’re certainly the only one who enjoyed it.”

With his keen eyesight, Crosshair could tell she was grinding her teeth, but he knew it was too dark for her to detect his smug look in turn. “Just like how I’m going to enjoy how you try to explain that pretty new bitemark on your neck to Hunter,” he replied.  

This time, when Dara pulled her knife, she was threatening him. The darkness was his ally as he deftly disarmed her, catching her by the elbow just as she stumbled over a tree root.

“Kriffing kark. I can’t see shit out here,” she huffed. Shaking out of his grasp, she pulled a flashlight out of her pack and marched off, not once checking to see if he followed.

***

That kriffing asshole. She was going to kill him. As soon as they were back to Ord Mantell, she was going to kill him and leave before his brothers could get their revenge on her. She would have to make it quick—without the element of surprise she doubted she would be able to take him down and then of course she wouldn’t have the time to spend flaying every bit of his skin off or engaging in all the other various and sundry forms of torture he deserved, but still, she was going to kill him.

And before she did that, she was definitely going to fuck Hunter and make sure he knew all about it.

Dara tried to slow her breathing, unclench her fists and jaw. She was laying on the nose of the Marauder, staring up at the stars, trying to recognize the shapes they took on this unfamiliar planet, connect them into new, mysterious geometries, create neat little polygons to shove her thoughts into—one of the many rituals she’d created to help tamp down her emotions when they threatened to burst out of her like a dam breaking. If she couldn’t quiet her mind, she’d never get to sleep, and tomorrow they were supposed to make their plan for infiltrating the villa.

Speaking of which, that smarmy Sullustan had given her a bad feeling. Whatever it was that the lab was working on, she had yet to hear of something considered essential for galactic security under the Empire that wasn’t terrible news.

And she could have found out more, if it weren’t for that kriffing asshole.

That asshole, who had taken every opportunity today to touch her (and she must really be touch-starved from living alone so long, his hands on her had felt so good) then accused her—not for the first time—of planning on sleeping with someone to get something out of them, then the kiss (his mouth was so hungry, he was a better kisser than she’d imagined) and his closeness (kark, when she’d felt that pressed up against her she’d nearly forgotten where they were) and he’d left a bruise on her for anyone to see, the controlling little—

She was going to scream if she kept thinking about this. Which was exactly what he wanted. To drive her insane.

She was going to kill him.

Next chapter

Tag List: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon

A quick note on my posting schedule! Work is pretty busy right now and, although I have a lot more of the fic written, I've skipped ahead a bit in my drafting so this is the last complete chapter I have in order, which means I need to dedicate some time to filling in the gaps. This means that the posting schedule will likely slow down from twice a week--I'll still try to post once a week or once every two weeks to keep things going at a regular pace!

In the meantime, I really appreciate comments for encouragement and hope you're enjoying it!

[nekoannie-chan]

The life he always wanted

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 565 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve has always wanted to have a life in a certain way.

Major Tags: Fluff, nostalgia.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @fluffystevefest Fluffy Steve Fest:

“Day 7 Steve’s: Childhood, Habits, First times, Happy ending.”

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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After all that had happened, Steve sat back, feeling nostalgic and out of place again, just...

He couldn't stop remembering his childhood and the times he spent with you and Bucky. He would give anything to return to those times and make what he always dreamed of come true.

He sighed, took the keys, and went out. Unfortunately, it had become a habit to visit your grave at least once a week.

Steve regretted very few things, and one of those was not proposing to you; he was going to do it once the war was over. He had the perfect picture in his mind: coming back from the war like a hero, knocking on your door, and just as you opened it, he would get down on one knee and ask you to marry him. The ring was the same one his mother had worn since he was a child; he had thought it was stunning.

He cleaned up your grave a bit, put the flowers on it, and said he would give anything to be with you again to clear up the lie he discovered at the Smithsonian.

I'm sorry for the lies you surely heard. I would like to see you again to explain everything that really happened. I have never stopped loving you.

1928

"When we grow up, Y/N is going to marry me," Bucky assured.

You frowned.

"No, I'm going to marry Stevie," you assured.

1937

You looked out again to make sure you had lost Bucky. You didn't want him to interrupt your first date; you hadn't told him you were dating either, and luckily he didn't get to interrupt you.

first kiss.

"I don't think he'll find us," you commented.

"Then we should go to the movies; I think you'll like the movie they're showing."

2023

Steve knew it was the only chance he would have; he would take care of making things right, and he hoped the rest would understand, but the truth was that he also deserved to have his happy ending and to fulfill all his dreams.

The first thing I would do would be to go to your house, clear everything up, then look for and release Bucky.

1945

He had missed the neighborhood; he remembered it perfectly. He stopped a few meters from your house, took a breath, and hoped you weren't angry or that you didn't want to see him.

"Who...? " You couldn't complete the sentence when you saw Steve in front of you, kneeling. You recognized the ring; it was the one his mother used to wear. What are you doing here, Steve? A few weeks ago, a woman came and told me that you were engaged and then that you had died."

"Do you remember the woman's name?"

"I remember her last name was Carter."

"It's not true what she said; I have always loved you; I came to keep my promise; I have a lot of things to tell you; let's go in; it's complicated and it will take a long time; but first, will you marry me?"

You smiled; you knew that Steve had never betrayed you; you stretched your hand so he would put the ring on your finger; you wanted him to tell you everything because you didn't understand many things, but you knew you were going to be very happy.

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

EDIT UPON LAST READING:

This was written on the 30th of may mostly because I got in trouble with a subset of sansa fans at the time and I felt like I should try to joy in her character again. I am no longer sick, I no longer feel like talking about romance, I no longer feel like talking about Sansa but doing this was fun and I am always curious

For the sake of this post, and only this post, I will refer to the term "ship" or any derivatives of the word as "feeling interested by a dynamic's fanon, semi- or canon romantic connotations".

Can't believe I have to say this but god people can get so unnecessarily mean. Before people start being pedantic about something as harmless as rarepairs, it seems like I really will have to say: I don't believe in any of these options possible canon endgames. Many of these have not even interacted. I deserve to have fun with stuff as trivial as dumb inconsequential fanon ships. 

Under the cut I wrote down my preferences + linked some fanwork simply because I’m in a shipping mood after reading some folkloric myths and I don’t really have any strong opinions on ships, and the few NOTPS I have are more about the way fandom treats the ship than the actual ship on itself, but I am completely ill and not healthy enough to do anything more serious and rarepairs are fun. You don’t have to read it or write one yourself, I just feel like talking and recommending fanfics.

On the other hand, if you do want to recommend me fanwork of any type, or share a prompt or show me a wip or just simply hype your rarepair please do so! Everything goes as long as it's a rarepair (less than 500 fics on ao3).

1. Sansa Stark x Brienne of Tarth

Listen, were it not for Brienne and Jaime being clearly written to be read as semi-canon-going-canon and were this book not written by a straight cis white male US American baby boomer democrat, I would be delusionally screaming this is going to be the one canon ship! This would be my protagonist endgame ship for which I would take the mildest coincidence as foreshadowing and die on that hill.

I am coming for you, Lady Sansa. Be not afraid. I shall not rest until I've found you. - Brienne I, AFFC

(Subversions of lady/princess & knight/prince where both are women and one of them is searching for the other and I'll become her Prince and save her! and-)

I just really love how so many of Brienne's issues are tied to her femininity. She does not fit into the traditional idea of womanhood, she wishes she would, she does not want to, she is rejected by the concept and she rejects the concept. And yet, when she distances herself from every possible reminder of her own femininity and takes up a man's armour and sword, she is reminded of her place as a woman and told to conform to her gender.

And then we have Sansa, who romanticises stories about Ladies and Knights; first out of genuine love and admiration for them, and later as a coping mechanism when cruel reality tells her that those ideals are sadly nowhere near true.

This is her knight. This is her strong, brave knight.

My only problem with Briennsa is how we shippers sometimes tend to put Brienne in a position of servitude to Sansa or the Starks and ignore how she is the heir to an island, has a father whom she loves and wishes to see again, and is still on a quest. Hell, she might be Azor Ahai, with her weirwood dream in which she fights White Walkers + her father's sword Lightbringer, out of all the Azor Ahai tinfoil theories this is the one I think has the most canon support. She is not a Hyle Hunt type of errand knight who is just walking around Westeros for the sake of traveling and finding a job, and once the war is over and she has kept her oath, it would be nice to see her going home and proceeding with her life and independence, maybe taking Podrik with her. I would like her to see her father again and see there being love between them.

My nonsensical fantasies involve Brienne being like "Alright, I found one of the Stark girls, still have to find the other one. I'm taking her to Tarth where she'll be safe and have no creeps around who would bother her." and Sansa just completely falling in love with Brienne on the way there.

Also, I would die for the comedic potential of Brienne of Tarth, mockingly refered to as "Brienne the beauty", having a trail of people fawning over her. This post is one of my favourite posts in the world.

To be honest, while I do enjoy the idea of Sansa going North to reunite with her family, I also have a strong fondness for the concept of her actually staying South. I know this is an unpopular opinion that Sansa fans seem to particularly dislike because of the whole "SaNsA iS nOt A rEaL sTaRk" thing, but there is something about lands of childhoods being unretournable. Stepping out of home means never seeing it again. "I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell" perhaps, but the walls of Winterfell were burned and the one Winterfell native who got to go back to Winterfell didn't get to be strong or safe.

I would like to be wrong though, and I think I will be wrong! But still, it would be nice for her to discover a South that is closer to the dreams of chivalry and court she had and perhaps Tarth could be that place, even if only for a short time.

Well, here is a canon-divergent AFFC fanfic in which Brienne finally makes it to the Vale. It has a lot of fairy tale imagery and an interesting characterisation between the Sansa-Alayne personas.

2. Sansa Stark x Jeyne Westerling

"That's what I'll give you, Lady Sansa. Your brother's head." A kind of madness took over her then, and she heard herself say, "Maybe my brother will give me your head." - Sansa VI, AGOT

You know how Catelyn and Ellaria both at least got to say goodbye to the remains of their loved ones? Jeyne didn't. Neither did Sansa.

My weird fantasy involves Jeyne Westerling (MY Queen in the North) finally getting Robb's head, even if it's just the skull, and showing it to Sansa. A subversion in a way. Joffrey would have done it in malice and sadism, Jeyne would do it it with care, maybe a feeling of responsibility over what remains of her husband's family.

I have a lot of issues with Robb Stark and the way he is perceived in fandom, I keep hating him until I read the source material again and realise "oh wait, fanon≠canon", but I just think his relationships with the women surrounding him are fascinating and they don't get explored a lot. Sansa doesn't know about him cutting her out of the inheritance line and I wonder how she and Jeyne, the other woman who is a Stark but would no longer be accepted as one by a majority of the Northern lords, would feel about him. I wonder how love, resentment, grief and guilt would mix between the two. I don't think Jeyne is pregnant, but if she somehow ends up caring for Robb's heir (be it Jon, Sansa, or an eventual child we refer to as his) I would love that. I like imagining that Jeyne could learn more about Robb, the boy, since she seems to have only gotten to know Robb, the man and King. I like daydreaming of Sansa and Jeyne talking about Catelyn, whom both admire.

I think both of them, based on what we know of Jeyne, share some similitudes in the way they behave conforming to their gender and what is considered a Lady's attitude while still having moments of defiance and I think Sansa could maybe appreciate that. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, she speaks of "madness taking over her" and, in my opinion, this is usually when she steps out of her own safety to be brave or bold (standing up to Joffrey, trusting Dontos, trying to hide her first menstruation) and I think it could be nice to see her realising these are not things she should be ashamed of. It always reminds me of Jeyne tearing up her clothes and fighting her mother. Jeyne Westerling, like most Jeynes, doesn't get treated very well in fandom. I hate how the interpretation of Robb breaking his vows to marry her is always one putting him as a selfless saint who practically sacrificed himself for a girl he didn't even love when the fact this all plays so mysteriously can open so many possibilities.

And it seems to me people forget how metal she became.

Sometimes Sansa's f/f ships tend to get simplified to "girls being girls and doing girly things together" and I understand why people enjoy that and they are valid for doing so, but in my case I usually prefer to have a little more conflict to it and I think this ship can balance the "girls making flowercrowns and braiding each others hair" and "exploration of complex feelings and estrangement" well enough for me to find it interesting.

Here is a fanfic I'd recommend that takes place in Winterfell with a reluctant Queen Sansa and lots of survivor's guilt + an edit done for said fanfic!

3. Sansa Stark x Garlan Tyrell

When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. - Sansa I, AFFC

(Yes, I know all those allies are kind of perpetuating her misery too, but she seems to have some affection for them. The reasons behind the affection can be discussed and dissected to examine whether that affection should be there or not, but as of now I don't want to talk about that. People can cherrypick to their own wishes.)

Not something I like to visualise as an endgame because Garlan seems to be quite happy with Leonette and I honestly think Margaery and Sansa's break up/middle school betrayal might not be as easily solvable as we wished, but I like thinking about Sansa & Garlan.

I like Sansa but she is fetishising a gay man who just lost the love of his life when she has a broader shouldered, bearded, straight person who looks very similar to said gay man who is called Garlan the Gallant and how can she be so blind? Why is her unrealistic teenage crush so poorly chosen? Garlan is so humble and his name is so fitting. He is more chivalrous and mature than Lawrence and he is so strong and agreeable and he treats her and Tyrion with respect. He takes her out to dance and makes her laugh and if going by how she describes the Tyrells, then he is so very handsome too and- Why are you laughing? - My father, swooning over Garlan the Gallant on the phone

I do like imagining her having a bit of a very one-sided mild crush sometimes, not something serious but one of those light early adolescent crushes you won't ever act on. Sansa finding moments to daydream and cherish in the hell of a life she is living in King's Landing where se feels cared for, even if it is by someone who is not particularly invested in her. Admiring Leonette and wondering how happy she must be, without ever being truly envious or malicious but simply wishing she had something similar. So, less actual romantic interest but more of a one-sided "I wish" in response to unexpected and (hopefully) genuine emotional help.

I usually prefer gap fillers in fanfiction and I am so eagerly waiting for a gap filler of Sansa's time in King's Landing where she gets to interact more with Garlan and Leonette. Where we see her being wistful and melancholic, longing for her dreams of courtship, chivalry and the sort of love that would be a mix between that which she has heard in songs and witnessed between her parents. Having small moments of joy feeling like a girl again for allowing herself those dreams and realising they can be true.

It's a pity there aren't many fanfics or fan art focusing on their canon or fanon dynamic. I like them a lot.

4. Sansa Stark x Myranda Royce

This is the light to C€rsei x Ta€na's darkness. I love them as friends and I would rather keep them as friends, and for some reason I ship Myranda x Mya, but I enjoy the ship A LOT! Out of the female connection's Sansa builds as the story goes on, I think their dynamic is the most endearing one, and I live in fear of GRRM turning Myranda into Sansa's new villain. I talked a bit about them in the later part of that one post, and I don't have a lot more to add, I just genuinely enjoy their dynamic and how natural Sansa's friendship with her is. I think Myranda embodies certain aspects of Margaery and Jeyne, but until now she is more genuine than Margaery was, and Sansa is also more mature in her treatment of her compared to Jeyne. I just like them.

So, if Myranda gets to wake up the sapphicness in Sansa, I would not complain. She spends so much time flirting with her! I love her for that. "You do turn such a pretty shade of pink.”, "So you're brave as well as beautiful, "I can see how virtuous you are just by looking at those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes of yours."

Sometimes I see this small fraction of fandom being mistrusting of Myranda and I honestly think we are just falling into Littlefinger's trap when we do that. If Petyr tells Sansa not to befriend Myranda, then I will 100% hope Sansa has the common sense to befriend Myranda. Don't take Myranda's derogative comment about Alayne's "Bastard breasts" as genuine, her literal bff/girlfriend is a bastard herself. Nah, but seriously, do we really think that Mya Stone who has been struggling with feelings of abandonment since before we even met her would be "as close as sisters" with Myranda Royce if she truly were a classist evil schemer? I honestly think Littlefinger might be a little afraid of her. She is shrewd, she might not be on board with her father's alliance with Petyr. Maybe that is why she is being threatened by her father to be married to a suitor she wouldn't approve of.

I might be wrong though, who knows. I do understand how her constant bawdy jokes could have also been a method for disorienting and questioning her but the twow preview chapter made me doubt it. For some reason I find her more genuine than Margaery, but as said I'm open to being very wrong about this.

Anyway, here is a small Drabble + art someone made and it's cute and Myranda is funny. I love Myranda.

5. Sansa Stark x Harrold Hardyng

I didn't have a strong opinion on them but then I was sold on them by a fanfic. It seems like this is where canon might be heading and I'm honestly happy for Sansa if she gets to have her high school movie annoyance to lovers romance with a handsome-popular-everybody-wants-him Prep/Jock guy. Good for her. I don't think Harry is an evil person and I hope it remains that way. Depending on which approach GRRM takes to their relationship it could be very comedic while still holding the political plot for the Vale. Their interactions during the Alayne TWOW preview chapter were gold and everything I would expect from the high school AU set in the Middle Ages, this post encapsulates it, I want them to be cringe and weirdly out of place. All the important lords and ladies are talking politics while these two are constantly making everyone uncomfortable with weird one liners.

On the other hand, depending on how long Sansa has to keep up with the Alayne farce, it could also provide for some angst and explorations of identity issues. Lady Waynwood agreed to the betrothal on the condition that Harry himself would agree to it and find "Alayne" to his liking. And I will admit there is something that would be so sweet about Sansa being loved by Harry THE HEIR, as Alayne Stone, some petty lord's bastard.

It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. - Sansa VI, ASOS

I would be so genuinely happy if she is proven wrong. And yes, the Alayne persona is not simply Sansa with another hair colour and name, but it is still part of her. It is a mask of her own face, smoother and only presenting that which she wants to present. It would be interesting to see an actual love story blossom out of this, while she is still painfully aware of their union being a machination of Littlefinger, maybe feeling guilt and insecurity over Alayne being made to play the seductress while Sansa is still underneath that facade wanting to be loved, being loved but not fully aware of it.

Anyway, here is a light angst fanfic about the Sansa-Alayne identity and Harry! It's probably one of my favourite Sansa fics ever, but warning for Petyr Baelish being himself!

+ I think people sleep on the concept of us readers getting to see Littlefinger "losing the girl" for the supposed prep/jock fuckboy again, that would be great.

Not a favourite, because I don't know a lot about Harrold except for that he is kind of a jerk, but I am a very canon person, so I'll probably end up tolerating/liking it if it actually gets to happen.

6. Sansa Stark x Myrcella Baratheon

I feel very weird about this one because I personally tend to distance myself from the captive x captor (including captor's family) ships in asoiaf when they are portrayed as something positive (nothing against those who like them, it's just a personal preference), but maybe because in this case both of them experience the position of hostage/ward and they didn't get to spend a significant amount of time together (two years at most), I am less appalled about possible scenarios in which they meet again in the future. Myrcella being passed off as legitimate when she is a bastard, Sansa being passed off as a bastard when she is legitimate, becoming pawns in political intrigues of others, being isolated from their families at a young age. Dorne treats Myrcella significantly better than King's Landing treated Sansa, but it still is the place where she was maimed and almost killed.

+ The fact that Myrcella is supposed to look almost exactly like Cersei (someone Sansa admired and wanted to emulate only to come to fear and hate her) but has none of her cruelty could be very interesting and torturous to explore if people want to write angst and get into Sansa's psychology. You can make this dark and macabre without having to open the bag with the dead dove.

Here is a (sadly abandoned) post ados fic in which Myrcella travels North as a ward to Lady Sansa, Warden of the North, sent by Queen Daenerys. Othe ships are also tagged, but since it was discontinued they don't appear. It has a very entertaining characterisation for Myrcella and it doesn't bash any of the girls mentioned, so I liked it.

7. Sansa Stark x Lancel Lannister

So, imagine a universe where Sansa chooses Lancel over Tyrion.

At the time, Lancel is still recovering from his wounds, if I remember correctly, and is experiencing his religious awakening. Imagine how different Sansa's arc would have been. Would she be the one seeking for some sort of connection between her and her husband? Lancel would probably have no interest in any possible romance, but he might be less indifferent with Sansa than he was with Amerei given how she aided him when he was wounded even when he had always been a passive participant in her abuse. Would she keep plotting and hoping for an escape with Dontos? Or would Lancel take her away from King's Landing? If he's not marrying Amerei, then he is not getting Derry, but perhaps Sansa could become a claim to Riverrun post-Red Wedding and that would be interesting to see. Sansa in her mother's home, retracing the steps of her parents, but this time differently, as an unwilling usurper to her uncle. Would she meet Jeyne once the Lannisters retake Riverrun?

Would there be a religious conflict between the two? I am an agnostic theology enthusiast, so I really love seeing how religion plays out in the story and since Sansa believes in the Seven Gods and the Old Gods, I think her dual faith would be interesting to see in opposition to Lancel's devotion for and indoctrination by the faith of the Seven.

+ both have Cersei related trauma and I am a sucker for "we share an abuser" dynamics.

I actually really love this possibility, but didn't came up with any of it on my own! What I wrote above is based on conversations between @team-mom-wannabe, @selkiewife and @nosafeanchorage. They created an entire AU for these two, with an astonishing amount of details and care, and then I had to go through the disappointment that is realising no one has ever written a fanfic centred on their possible marriage.

8. Sansa Stark x Val the Wildling

I really like Val. I know some people hate her because they claim she is "not like other girls" or because she wants Shireen to be killed, but I hate the way nlog rhetoric has developed and I come from a continent where 95% of the population was killed by foreigner's diseases (and also by the foreigners themselves of course), so yeah, I will never hold that against her. I understand why that is upsetting to others, but I'm different.

It's weird to me that although show!Sansa was given traits and storylines from many erased female characters and was kind of deprived of her own (and I still hate that show for that and so many other things), they never teased the concept of giving her a wildling partner! Tormund was a completely different character compared to his book counterpart, he was much younger, conventionally attractive and acted as the main leader of the Free Folk after Mance, so I thought they would maybe merge him with Sigorn and tease him and Sansa, but that didn't happen (I don't remember what happened to him. Did he die?). And I won't deny that the lack of a wilding/northerner marriage lead me to have some thoughts about how interesting it could be for her to meet someone from the free folk. And then, because I'm very very sapphic, Val came to my mind, another cool woman they erased. Beautiful and deadly. A subversion of the princess in a tower.

It's fun to see how both, Sansa and Val, are considered the keys to the North/the Free Folk when their titles are practically honorary; Val is not a real princess and the Free Folk wouldn't submit to anyone who forcibly married her, Sansa has been cut out of the inheritance line because she was made to marry an enemy whom the North would never allow into its territory. I think it would be entertaining to see them meet and observe possibly feelings of mutual respect grow and I just really like seeing people from different cultures interact. Free Folk's beliefs around courtship and how romance and marriage are always meant to carry some sort of violence are fascinating to me. The idea of being "stolen" is a concept I initially associated to non-consensual dynamics, but in fairy tales we often have characters saving the female heroine/love interest by stealing/rescuing them. The way women are often made to be objects of conquest or rewards in most folkloric stories and fairy tales conditions their rescue as theft, since they often belong to the villain only to be passed to another male character. This also is somewhat true in Sansa's case specifically with Tyrion and Petyr, although I would argue Petyr is a lot worse for Sansa than Tyrion. Anyway, I would really like to see how Sansa, who has always been on the edge of rape but has managed to avoid it (she has still been mistreated and fondled in situations of dubious consent, but not violated like Jeyne or Dany), would react to their customs.

+ depending on whether you believe in Sansa's possible complicity in the poisoning of Sweetrobin there could be soooo much room for projection and angst if she gets to see Val being motherly and so very loving to "her nephew" (even when it's not really her nephew and she knows) while still advocating for Shireen's death. Oh, that could be very very fun to read.

9. Sansa Stark x Podrick Payne

awwww he is crushing on his boss's wife! :D

I feel weird about this one being so low given how it's the only one in this bunch with some canon support. This is uncommon for me. It's probably simply because I find her dynamic with Tyrion more interesting, but this is cute anyway!

I do wonder why no one has thought more seriously about them in canon given how Pod is Brienne's traveling companion and might come to meet Sansa again sometime soon (if they survive LSH (on that note, I'd love it if he gets to tell her about Catelyn/LSH)).

I don't know. Podrick is a good kid and Sansa deserves good things. I just haven't found a lot of thematics in their possible dynamic that interest me, but I'm open to them.

+ Sansa's weird traumatic dreams involving Ilyn Payne. Someone make something out of this.

Sadly haven't found many fanfics that have sparked my interest, but I really like this gif-set!

10. Sansa Stark x Tristifer Botley

I had been wondering about this concept for a while and thought that in another universe where the war didn't happen or the possible Iron Islands/The North alliance was settled in terms that included more marriages between them, this could have been interesting, albeit improbable since House Botley isn't as relevant as House Stark, but interesting! And then I came across this really sweet post-ados fanfic by @/alleyskywalker in which Sansa is married to him to build bonds with the Islands since all realms are now independent again and I thought it was cute. Tris was lovely and I liked reading him. He is a character I feel conflicted about, but I don't think he is evil, I just didn't like the way he approached Asha. I jokingly refer to him as a nice guy™, but honestly he is just an actual nice guy with a gentle nature and romantic tendencies and I really love how he is a character whom Asha deems "too sweet for the Iron Islands", and still he is part of the Iron Islands and is accepted as one by the other Ironborn. Her claim is never backed on by anyone else.

His courteous and polite ways could probably match Sansa's dreams of chivalry very well. It would also be fun to see her adapt to the Islands, considering the Northerners' mistrust (and also some bigotry) for the Ironborn and how different their culture is compared to that of the southern courts that Sansa dreamed of and idealized. It could be fun.

My honour mentions in no particular order

Sansa Stark x Harras Harlaw

For similar reasons to Tristifer Botley, but although we know less about Harras' personality, we know he is a salt son and a knight, something most of his fellow Ironborn frown upon. To me, that is odd and fun to think about. Does he worship the Seven Gods AND the Drowned God simultaneously? His mother is a Serret of the Westerlands. Could she have been the one to make him be more fond of southern culture? I don't know, but I like to think that is the case and if so, I think him and Sansa could possibly have some things in common.

Sansa Stark x Mya Stone

Not one I'm actively searching stuff for, but I get a visit from my good ol' friend Sarah Tonin whenever I stumble upon it and I can understand why people are into it:

Baratheon x Stark (but f/f)

Bastard x Noble (but f/f + subverted because "Alayne")

Mya's connection to Catelyn (Lady Stoneheart would approve)

There is also the fact that Mya is one of the most honest and frank characters Sansa has met ever since the story began. I will defend Myranda but I think she is shrewd, Margaery...well we know how that ended...Mya is different! She doesn't seem to be hiding any secrets or have any ulterior motives in her friendliness. Her abandonment issues would be interesting to explore among with Sansa's overall introspection + her isolation in King's Landing and her new (and sadly well) founded mistrust for others.

Honestly, my favourite daydream just involves them having a conversation about Sansa's parents and Mya telling her all she can remember and consoling her, while being open about her own issues, but sadly I don't have any creative abilities and can't come up with anything beyond that.

Here is a short, but interesting, fanfic that takes place post AFFC, but was written before the TWOW preview chapters came out. I thought it was lovely.

Sansa Stark x Jeyne Poole

Kind of an obvious one and one I struggle with because I can see the appeal of childhood friends torn apart by war and then reuniting after both went through different hells, but the way fandom treats it often just annoys me. I think there are a few unaddressed issues that make it more difficult for me to enjoy the way it's portrayed in fanon. I guess we could say I like it as a rhænicent that never got truly toxic and just remained bittersweet with a few kneeps of resentment, feelings of inferiority and maybe some misplaced anger coming from Jeyne . There is a fanfic though that I think is unmatched when it comes to what I would like : (1) + (2) but warning for canon compliant Jeyne storyline fucked upness + mild ambiguous Theyne (the Jeynsa is ambiguous too, but in my opinion less than the theyne, and it is just as important, not a side-ship. Overall one of my favourite fics ever).

Rolly Duckfield

"He is as tall as Griff now. Three days ago he knocked Duck into a horse trough." "I wasn't knocked. I fell in just to make him laugh." - Tyrion III, ADWD

I love Duck. He reminds me of my best friend and I think Sansa could use someone like that in her life. I have nothing else to add.

[clairelsonao3]

Blog and WIP Intro

Hi, I'm Claire. I'm an adult woman and professional writer of many things, but my first love (and my MFA degree) is fiction, which I've been writing for quite some time.

My writing

I discovered the whump community in early 2023, and although my work isn't strictly or exclusively whump, I'm happily discovering a lot of writers and readers who share my tastes here. That said, this is not a whump-exclusive blog.

I enjoy almost any genre if it's well-written, especially romance, historical fiction, and mysteries/thrillers. These days, you'll primarily find me writing contemporary romance (set either in our universe or an alternate version of it) with whump, humor, and probably some thrills mixed in.

I now have a detailed intro post about my writing and the elements, whumpy and otherwise, you're likely to find in it, as well as the kinds of things I like to read. It's a living document and subject to change!

WIPs

At the moment, I have two main WIPs I'll be discussing/referencing on this blog. Click on the title for the WIP intro pages!

Good Slaves Never Break the Rules

An adult, NSFW, whumpy, alternate-history slavery forbidden romance that I'm posting in installments on Ao3.

Short Summary: A naive girl from a rich but disintegrating family determined to finish university and make it on her own. A gifted and charming slave who will do anything and use anyone to find his missing sister.

In a modern world where slavery is institutionalized, they're forbidden from touching or even looking at each other. But when her father buys him and assigns him as her chemistry tutor, it's only a matter of time before they collide -- and maybe just light their entire world on fire.

Note:

No abuse or noncon takes place between the MCs in this story. In fact, I like to think of this as a slavefic that has much more in common with mainstream romance than it does with most slavefics you might have come across. (In other words, it's a slavefic for people who think they don't like slavefic.)

WIP Intro

Do stories about slavery make you uncomfortable?

Me, too -- they're supposed to. Here's a great explanation of why writers like me are drawn to the topic, exactly what slavefic is, and what it is not. If you're at all curious (or if you're thinking of sending me a nasty anon), I highly recommend giving it a read.

The Adored

A young adult, whumpy, romantic thriller, currently on hiatus from agent submissions as I revise.

Short Summary: When an up-and-coming teen rock star falls off a yacht and drowns right before his first album drops, his bandmate (still mourning her hopeless crush) suspects his spoiled girlfriend and/or his charismatic young manager of murder. And she's determined to prove it no matter the cost.

WIP Intro

Untitled Silly Prison Whump Non-Story

A sweet, clever, naive 18-year-old guy from a respectable background falls on hard times, gets roped into helping with what he thinks is a nonviolent art heist, fucked over by the rest of the gang, and gets sentenced to 10 years in a totally cartoonish, unrealistic, hard-labor-galore prison. He unsurprisingly has a very bad time of it until the warden asks him to be his assistant, at which point it gets better ... or does it? I wrote this purely to entertain myself (but then again that's how GSNBTR started, too). I'm posting it on another site where I don't know anyone because I'm too embarrassed to post it here, but parts of it have found their way over to Tumblr. Maybe more will, too, someday.

Whumptober 2023

These stories are technically prequels to GSNBTR, but they both stand alone!

From the Moment I Could Talk, I Was Ordered to Listen (Whumptober Day 26)

A renowned professor of chemical physics visits a discount slave auction, looking for something very specific. But what he finds there is not quite what he had in mind.

With a Guarantee of Company (Whumptober Day 30)

A slave girl is caught in a compromising position with her master's daughter's crush and is forced to pay the price for it.

What you'll find on this blog

Posts about my writing and others' writing, both whumpy and otherwise. Tags and asks (I try to get to all of them eventually!) Posts and reblogs with prompts, memes, etc. about whumpy writing and general writing.

Other Writing

I have four complete novels, some of which have been published under pseudonyms (which, for various uninteresting reasons, I won't be discussing or linking to on this blog).

Audience

For now, my writing will be hosted (except for perhaps some very occasional bonus content) exclusively on Ao3 (hence the username) since I started over there, and prefer not to split my audience. This may change in the future, however.

Although my ongoing WIP on Ao3 is NSFW and intended only for ages 18 and over, this blog should be generally SFW. Anything that's not, I'll strive to tag and put under a cut. That said, just in case, I'm trying to avoid knowingly following or interacting with minors and I don't encourage them to follow me.

I'm trying very hard to stay away from posting anything real-world controversial or political, but sometimes I can't help myself, sorry!

My inbox is always open to comments and questions! I love tag games, though sometimes I develop quite a backlog. Basically, I welcome any kind of positive interaction. After all, that's what I'm here for!

Tags

GSNBTR | | wip: the adored | my writing | your writing | ask game | tag game | clairels teaches writing | asked and answered |

Sideblog(s):

tropium-addict: A repository for Tumblr fiction I either have read or want to read.

season-of-trope: Memes, quotes, mental health, opinions on things political and otherwise, personal development, pretty pictures ... everything else, really.