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adventuringblind · 2 months

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American Sweetheart

Logan Sargeant x Reader

Genre: Fluff and Crack

Summary: Max isn't sure about this new American rookie on the grid. Not that he isn't nice, just that he likes Max's baby sister. Featuring Lestappen being a married couple.

Warnings: Protective Max, sarcastically protective Daniel, Logan being a SIMP

Notes: Yay! Logan Fluff! I've not written for Logan yet, but I honestly love him... He's such a pookie...

Side Note: My requests are still open! If you've sent in a request, please remember I do this for fun and will try to get around to it when I can :)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max looks at her with big pleading eyes. "Please tell me who it is?" He pouts, sticking out his bottom lip.

"No, because you'll torture him. I'd like to keep this one alive thank you." She puts the finishing touches on her makeup.

"I left the last one alive... barely, but that's not the point!"

"So if I tell you, then you won't freak out?"

"I swear it on my career-"

"It's Logan."

Max goes silent. Frozen in place as her tries to comprehend her words. The death stare at the ground tells her he's internally screaming.

She sighs, mildly worried that Max might actually scream profanities until Logan arrives. "Alright, what's your issue with this one?"

"He's American!"

She groans. It doesn't matter much where he's from, as long as he treats her right. Logan's been struggling since he came to the grid. It would make a difference if max accepted him and not just Oscar and Lando, by proxy.

"Give him a chance, please? For me?"

Max stars at her for longer than necessary. "Fine."

~~~~~

Logan appears at her door dressed in semi-formal attire. He takes in her appearance. "You look - wow..." There is a light blush on his face. It feels nice seeing as she's in something simple and modest. Just what she had to work with given she's living out of her suitcase.

They catch up on the paddock drama and how life has been going recently. Logan is a proper gentleman the entire time. She's not sure why she thought he would be any different. Logan has always been sweet to anyone he comes in contact with.

Their date goes incredibly well.

As does the second.

And the third...

Max stares at her as she sits in his room, giggling at her phone. She has no time to react as he snatches it from her hands. "Logan?! You're still talking to him?!"

She huffs and crosses her arms. "Yes, Max, I like him."

"He's American." He tosses the phone back at her. "Just let me talk to him." Max gives her puppy eyes. "Please."

"You can talk to him whenever, but if you ruin this for me, I'll break your wrists."

Max makes it his personal mission to figure out Logan through not talking to him. She has taking to simply rolling her eyes as Max drags Daniel around with him to stare at the poor boy.

Until he catches them in the paddock together and puts on the 'Mad Max' face. Logan immediately seems to shrink in on himself.

"Okay Sargeant, it's time you and I had a little discussion about your intentions with my sister." Max hauls him upwards by his bicep and Logan goes willingly like an injured puppy.

She throws him a reassuring smile and pray to Charles Leclerc that Max doesn't scare him away.

~~~~~

Max and Daniel sit across the table from Logan. He thought asking her out would be the hardest part. No, he was mistaken, this is far worse.

The Dutch has been staring daggers at him since they sat down. Daniel keeps wiggling his eyebrows like her knows something Logan doesn't. Which - despite it seeming playful - only puts Logan more on edge than he was before.

"So, Mr. America-"

"Is that really-"

"Quiet! I'm the one doing the talking here."

Logan wants to roll his eyes. He wants to run into next year if it means avoiding this conversation. "Look Max-"

"I need to know you aren't going to americanify my sister." He points an accusatory finger between Logan's eyes.

Logan reels, and Daniel finally breaks all composure. The Aussie is laughing hysterically. "Mate, what does that even mean?!"

"Look, your American ways are not ours. I will not be seeing her calling things like American football, real football."

Logan sinks into his chair. The relief evident on his face.

He's about to jump into a spiel about how he would never expect her to just assimilate into his culture. That was never his plan. However, he's doesn't get the chance.

A figure dressed in Ferrari red comes stomping around the corner. "Max Emilian!" Charles screams out for anyone to hear.

Max shrinks in on himself. Daniel is almost falling out of his chair as Charles stomps his way over. "Why are we interrogating the poor boy?" He crosses his arms like an exasperated mother.

"Because my sister-"

"Your sister was in my room pacing and ranting that you were going to scare away another boyfriend."

Max has a look of shame on his face. Cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "But Charlie-"

"Nope. Not gonna work. Let's go." Charles grabs Max by the bicep and drags him away. The Dutch pouts until he's out of sight.

Logan looks at Daniel, who's finally calmed down. "Are they-?"

"Married? Yes, for like two years now. They are still convinced nobody knows." Daniel leans forward in his chair, and Logan once again is left feeling intimidated. "But seriously, kid, she's a good person. Max has always been protective over his sisters because of their home life. Just treat her right, yeah? She deserves it."

Daniel sends Logan off with an encouraging pat on the shoulder. He's never run away from something so fast before. Not out of fear, no, he just needs to see her. Reassure the female that Max is less intimidating when Charles is around.

He finds her pacing outside of Williams' hospitality. Logan runs right up to her, picks her up in his arms, and spins her around.

"I take it Max was nice to you?"

"Your brother is an interesting character, but nothing would stop me from loving you."

She blushes profusely. "You love me?"

Logan rests his forhead against hers. He can't wipe the smile off his face when he looks at her. "Of course I do! And nobody is going to stop me from feeling the way I do."

She hastily lands her lips onto Logan's , not caring about who's around to see. It's just them in their own little world.

She pulls away just enough to whisper against his lips. "I love you too, Lo."

Logan has never been happier than in this moment with her in his arms and Max screeching in the distance.

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k3n-dyll · 1 month

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Domestic!Sevika [Drabble]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: None just Vika being cute

AN: not proofread, just started writing

Masterlist Divider Creds Helpful Palestine Links

Domestic!Sevika who has never been in love before you, finding herself roaming around your apartment while you're out and noticing a basket full of undone laundry sitting near the washer.

You've been super busy recently and haven't had much time or energy to keep up with certain household chores and laundry was one of them.

Now, Sevika has never been one to just...do shit for people. Not unless it benefitted her in some way. And yet now she finds herself sorting your darker clothes from the light ones, washing them separately, drying them then heading back onto your bedroom and putting them away. She doesnt even roll them into a ball and toss them into drawers like she sometimes does with her own things - she folds them. Neatly.

She finishes and is quite proud of herself, going back to giving herself a bit of a tour of your place, but oh, look at that - the sink has dishes from last nights dinner date.

On any normal day you'd have washed them after eating but Sevika had other plans, which is why she was over at your apartment the next morning in the first place. A part of her feels bad for practically carrying you into the bedroom the night prior instead of helping you clean up, so she may as well make up for it by washing those dishes now, right?

Needless to say, when you get back that afternoon your apartment is spotless and something heavenly is wafting from the kitchen. There's no sign of Sevika until you walk back into your bedroom. Shes lounging on top of the blankets of your now made up bed, reading a book.

"You did all this?"

And she just stares at you for a moment, thinking.

"Oh, dinner? Yeah. I figured since you cooked last night..."

You shake your head and begin to explain what you mean fully. You could literally see your reflection on the counters when you walked through the kitchen and shes just sat here as if she hasnt moved all day. Even when you elaborate, she just shrugs as if she hadnt just made your life 10 times easier by simply being left alone in your house for a day.

"I dunno...I just got bored I guess"

Is her explanation for it, though that was clearly a lie, but you werent going to push her into saying anything sappy. Her work around the house said enough. She's been here before, sure, but its clear that she takes in every little thing you do. She's cooked your favorite dish, folded your laundry and sorted it in the specific way that you always do. She'd managed to get every little organization quirk of yours down to a T.

"Well, thank you for getting bored" you respond, kissing her on the forehead, and while she'd never say it out loud but that little bit of praise makes her heart jump.

I love her sm

Little drabble that is solely based on my urge to act like a housewife when I'm with my girlfriend. I'd lasso the moon for that girl istg

Taglist: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery, @delinthecut, @sevsbaby, @archangeldyke-all

#☆drabbles #lesbian #wlw #sevika arcane #soft sevika #sevika x reader #sevika #arcane

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no-psi-nan · 7 months

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One thing I never see people talk about is that canonically, Terusai is super one-sided...

From SAIKI'S side.

Over the course of the series, Saiki's respect for Teruhashi grows with every interaction. He bends over backwards to prevent her feelings from being hurt, he puts less and less effort into avoiding her, he looks after her safety and happiness, he risks his reputation by publicly rescuing her, he's fascinated by her beauty the one time he gets to admire her, she galvanizes him into action when he's in shock about the meteor and the "return" of his powers.

On the other hand, Teruhashi starts caring about the fake fanboy version of him she invented, and over time, grows comfortable with the fake silent glum mask he projects. She doesn't find him physically attractive and she struggles to compliment him to his grandfather. She likes how safe he makes her feel, and finds his presence comforting, but at no time does she know his actual personality, nor does she really make any real attempt to get to know him better, instead focusing on ways to impress him and make him "offu". She knows that her fanclub could put him in danger (hence tossing her chocolates out the window) but still calls on them to force him to hang out with her on multiple occasions.

In order for them to have a real relationship, Teruhashi would have to learn Saiki's actual personality and decide whether she likes it as much as the fake versions she fell in love with.

But for that to happen, Saiki would have to reveal his powers (prerequisite for showing his real personality), which would immediately force Teruhashi to face three MAJOR crises:

The INCREDIBLE mortification of blindly chasing after someone who could hear every one of her mean/rude/bizarre/thirsty thoughts and who was trying to let her down gently the whole time for SIX FUCKING YEARS, all while she made SO much trouble for him

The subsequent reckoning about what it means to be a "perfect pretty girl" after finding out someone was watching her struggle and fail at it, plus the possibility that people only like her because her beauty is a magical power like Saiki's ESP, and NOT because any inherent goodness or effort on her own behalf

The fact that her fans almost killed both Saiki and Nendo when he was "powerless", and the realization that the Kokomins (whether part of the club or not) have almost certainly hurt many people on her behalf, and that she herself has mobilized them against Saiki before. Also the fact that they actually control her almost as much as she controls them, because she has to work so hard to meet and exceed their expectations

While Saiki already knows and likes her for who she is, Teruhashi (who regularly goes to mental and physical extremes to maintain her persona) is going to have to grapple with her own sense of self before she can even really find out what Saiki's actually like, much less have a healthy relationship with him.

And meanwhile Saiki knows that dating Teruhashi would be a major risk for him, as much as he might like to, because she attracts so much attention that it would constantly risk his identity.

There's so much baggage they have to work through in canon in order to finally be on the same page, and so much to explore psychologically, especially when you remember that Teruhashi is also apparently only 5 minutes away from starting a cult based on like every canon AU hsfjdlshfks.

She's under a huge amount of stress! Has been for a long time! And then if the guy she thought she knew turned out to be a god, sometimes even The God she prays to, what's that going to do to her psyche??

Anyways this post got away from me but there's so much fertile ground for really interesting analysis and character development! But I've never seen anyone tackle any of this so I figured I'd type it up in case people didn't realize just HOW bonkers it all is lol!

#terusai #saiki x teruhashi #saiki kusuo #teruhashi kokomi #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #sknpn #the disastrous life of saiki k.#tdlosk #nopsi meta #can you imagine if your boring lil high school crush was basically Jesus when YOU thought you were God's gift to humanity?? hsfjdlshfks BRUH

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lady-harrowhark · 1 year

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hello, can you explain to me in more clarity your “waxen” theory regarding Ianthe? I’m not picking up on what this implies but it’s making my brain itch.

Sort of! Totally fair question, I just don't have a lot of clarity myself in that I don't have a fully formed theory lol. There's definitely some links and parallels in verbiage that are pinging on my radar, so I do think something's funky, but I wouldn't say I'm fully on board with this yet. I'm just playing in the sandbox Tamsyn has provided us, tossing out ideas and thinking out loud. But I can go into some more detail, and add some more thoughts that have occurred to me since I posted that last night.

(Here's a link to the post in question, for context)

Anyway! So let's first lay out all the times we get someone described as some type of wax. At various points in HtN, we get the descriptions "a shoddy wax cast of some more beautiful sculpture," a "wax figure in a pink dolly dress," a "wax figure in pale purple chiffon," and "waxen face" for Ianthe. We also see that descriptor used a few other times for other people throughout the series. In GtN, Harrow's parents' bodies are called "waxy" and the first introduction of Protesilaus (as the beguiling corpse) says he was "waxen looking in the sunlight." In NtN, Kiriona's skin is said to have a "weird, waxy quality," then Naberius's skin is called "waxen" when they first meet up with Ianthe, and again a few pages later it again references the "waxen, handsome face". What I'm getting at here is that every time this sort of description is deployed, it's in reference to a dead body that's been preserved, manipulated, and is essentially masquerading as a living person... except for Ianthe.

We also know there are a multitude of times that she's described as looking like a poor copy of Coronabeth. There's that "shoddy wax cast of some more beautiful sculpture" line, her first introduction calls her a "starved shadow" of her sister ("or the first an illuminated reflection [of Ianthe]," and actually, off the top of my head I don't know that we ever see their descriptions framed that way again... I'd have to investigate this more later, but this might be the only time that Corona is described as a "better" version of Ianthe, rather than Ianthe being a "worse" version of Corona, which is interesting), there's a point where it says "The second twin was as though the first had been taken to pieces and put back together without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but on her it was a beautiful shroud on a mummy," etc etc etc. I know there's more, but I'm too lazy to go pull the rest of the quotes and you get the picture by this point I'm sure. So nearly all of these situate her, at least visually, as a copy or approximation of Coronabeth, and one that doesn't quite live up to original at that.

So now let's pick apart this snippet of conversation we overhear between Silas and Ianthe at Magnus and Abigail's dinner party a bit. Ianthe says she was born via "surgical means," which I'm assuming is referring to a C-section delivery (or whatever the necromantic equivalent is) and notes that Corona is a few minutes older. Silas seems surprised (or perhaps concerned?) that they "risked intervention" and Ianthe says Corona had "removed [her] source of oxygen". At this point Silas says, "A wasted opportunity, I'd think." I had always taken this for him just being a dick and implying he wished she'd died in the womb, but coming back to it with this new angle... well. She says "Corona's birth put my survivability somewhere around definite nil." And I'm wondering if that doesn't tie to Harrow's comment about infant deaths generating "enough thanergy to take out the entire planet." Basically, could Silas have been implying that the Tridentarii's parents wasted an opportunity to use the thanergy from baby Ianthe's death to power up Corona?

Harrow says that twins are an ill omen, but the text hasn't come back to that as of yet. Given the difficulty necromancers experience with pregnancy, I'd imagine twins would could be especially dangerous and that in and of itself could be considered an ill omen. Ianthe's comments certainly suggest that their mother carried the pregnancy, although I don't think we know for certain whether she was a necromancer. I am so intensely curious about the Tridentarii's childhood and their parents; we get so many gestures towards some really twisted family dynamics, but very little in the way of concrete explanations. Particularly relevant here, I'd love to know more about their father wanting a "matched set" and how that came about. Did they intentionally plan for twins from the start? Was it only once they knew they were having twins that that became a factor? What's the significance there?

Outside of those "waxy" descriptors, Ianthe tends to be described as much more sickly looking than even other necromancers. We know that necromancers on the whole tend towards a phenotype of physical weakness, but even still, there's an emphasis on this with Ianthe beyond that. This might be due in part to narrator bias (coughGideoncough) or the direct juxtaposition between her and Coronabeth's vivaciousness, but what really jumps out at me as contributing to this effect is how frequently she's described as being colorless, pale, washed out, bloodless, pallid, anemic, etc etc etc. It very much makes me think of the way the color drains away from Colum (and even the rest of the room and the others in it) when Silas is siphoning. Silas himself is also often described as colorless ("mayonnaise uncle," "milk man") but not so much in a way that implies frailty as much as I read it as implying a stark coldness, in line with the very black-and-white moral authority he presumes to wield, a purported "purity", much different than Ianthe's colorlessness. With Ianthe, you get a sense that her palette ought to have been or perhaps was closer to Corona's, but the color's been drained away; where Corona's hair is described as golden, Ianthe's is "canned butter", for example. Almost like the life's been siphoned out, one might say.

So to kind of circle back around, do I actually think Ianthe is dead or a corpse like the other "wax" figures we've seen? Nah. Between Harrow and Palamedes, and especially Palamedes's medical necromancy, I think we would have heard about it by now if that were the case. But I do think it's entirely plausible that she's had a bit of a brush with death and that perhaps she's never quite fully come back from, and I do think she's being intentionally positioned as somewhat adjacent to death. If their parents were wanting twins from the outset, perhaps they used necromantic means to encourage the conception. Or if the pregnancy was as high-risk as I suspect it was, perhaps she'd died or nearly died at birth and been resuscitated. Their parents may have gone to extremes to keep her alive, to maintain their matched set. Given the themes of this series, I do feel it's necessary to draw a distinction between "resuscitation" and "resurrection" although they are curiously adjacent to one another. For all the text has grappled with dying and staying dead, dying and coming back, dying and choosing whether or not to return... we haven't touched on what something like a "near death experience" would look like. I'd imagine having that sort of experience, even at an incredibly young age, might lead one to be fascinated with, to use Ianthe's own words, "the place between death and life... the place between release and disappearance."

#it was making my brain itch also!#thank you for indulging my meandering rambles lol #I’ve got another ask sitting in my inbox that I’m working on too… I promise I’m not ignoring it!#tlt #tlt meta #ianthe tridentarius #nona the ninth spoilers #ask #mcdreary #two halves dead

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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oh that's ok but batkids reacting to bruce getting hurt in general?

It's such a bizarre feeling for all of them; They all bear marks. Not one bat is without scars; You'd be more of an anomaly if you weren't hurting than if you were.

Jason has his autopsy scars. Dick has calloused hands from all those years of jumping, or deeper memories carved deep in him from his Robin days. Damian carries traces of training where someone his age shouldn't.

They all know; No one with the Wayne name is a stranger to pain.

But Bruce; Bruce has more than all of them. They know, because mending and healing wounds is a family tradition, just as tracing them when snuggling up on a huge bed is.

But they can't conjure a moment in time when Bruce's were fresh. They're all healed and pink and more memory than guests. And it's not as often as them.

It's Tim who figures it out. Those eyes were designed for detail. " You didn't think he took all those vacations to actually relax, right?"

" Bruce's idea of relaxation would send someone in a psych word, so no. So all this time, he went away to...Heal?"

" Something like that. I don't think he'll be successful with this one, thought."

Not even Bruce can walk off a coma.

It wasn't supposed to be that explosive. Bane's twisted little bombs had 5 minutes left on them when Barb checked, and they were supposed to get the hostage to safety on time, and Tim wasn't supposed to miscalculate--

" Your self-employed guilt is no help to anyone, Drake." In Damian language, this passes as It wasn't your fault, so Tim knows him, and knows better, than to put it to heart.

Dick wants the graveyard and sunrise shift, but Jason shuts that down, set in his way. Either they all look after Bruce, or none of them do.

They take turns.

Jason sits by Bruce's bed side with his feet planted deep in the carpet. Shoulders squared, posture ready and stiff for any incoming danger, gun safety off and bullets still hot in their holder. A hell hound made man.

" You're not doing it right."

Tim shoots a dagger of annoyance with his eyes alone, because he hasn't slept in hours, because he's trying to track Bane down, because he needs to send that bastard packing straight to Arkham's smallest cell.

All while maintaining some degree of calm as he tries to change Bruce's bandages, " I'm a genius, not a nurse."

" Maybe if you actually watched Grey's Anatomy like the rest of us normal people, --"

" Just because it helped Bruce get through med school--"

" If you're a selective genius, just say that."

" I'd rather be a part time genius than a full time idiot--"

" Dick!" Jason calls, but, Tim privately thinks he's hoping Bruce would answer, " Timberly's mean to me again!"

" Am not!"

" If you guys don't stop I'll tell B!"

Because he will wake up; He has to. Before Batman, there was Bruce Wayne, and if there's one dog to bet on in Gotham City, it's him.

Cass makes sure Bruce has clean sheets. That his burns are medicated and tamed and watches very closely for any sign of discomfort. Bruce winces at the small cotton ball of alcohol and there's a collective breath of relief.

Alfred makes sure they have sleep. That Jason won't wayward his way into a battle he'll regret and take Damian with him. That Dick actually has some sleep. That Duke and Cass are updated on patrol.

They're fearful. Every breath they take are like small stones stacked up on top, waiting to drop to the core of their bellies as a week passes and there's no sign of Bruce even flinching anymore.

Of course, when he does, -- because he always does, -- it's when they bicker. Tim can't remember who started it. He said something, and then Damian tossed a snarky comment because he's mean when he's scared, and --

" Can you be nice to eachother for 10 minutes?"

They all jump on him; He hisses, every numb nerve in his muscles buzzing back to life, but he's being squeezed and embraced and hugged in the ground by his kids, so it's not the worst fate in the world.

" Did I miss something?"

" Jason crushed the Batmobile."

" TIM!"

#asks #text post #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #batman #batfam #batfamily #batdad #writing #dc #dc imagine #THEMMMM #fluff #fluff and angst

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riding-the-sunset-bird · 4 months

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I don’t know if you’ve been asked this yet, but is there any particular order you recommend doing the moments for each step in?? I’m trying to figure out what moments should be played when since some of the moments trigger events in others depending on what you played first. Or! Do you guys have a preference for which you do personally?

I would say that mine is more of a preference than a recommendation, especially because I'm still doing a deep, deeeep dive into the code to really see which moments influence another (so while I'm going to give this list anyway, I also will probably redo it later after I see which moments influence one another and in which ways).

For example, if you remember the moment in Shopping where you can ask Cove "why is your dad always giving people money?" it's completely different if you've told Cove about the deal in Sandcastle first, going from Cove being puzzled by the question to understanding why the player is asking.

And speaking of Sandcastle anyway, there are some moments that I just skip altogether, specifically Sandcastle from Step 1, none from Step 2 (unless you count Derek's DLC, in which case I'd skip his version of Soiree, Siblings, and maybe Responsible), and Serendipity from Step 3. Most of it is just due to a lack of agency/choice on the player's part and/or secondhand embarrassment that I get from them.

That said, here's the order I personally go in:

Step 1

Shopping

Grown Up

Long Day

Ghost

Runaway

Fireflies

Library

Barbecue

Sleepover

My reasons are pretty basic. Shopping is a good introductory moment for the MC and Cove's relationship, just as Grown Up is a good one for Lizzie and Cove's. The other two (Long Day and Ghost) being before Runaway is because I wanted all the "negative" experiences Cove has to be before it (so the balloon popping, fighting with Lizzie, getting yelled at by the mean old people, and getting scared by the ghost).

Ghost also has to be pretty far down-ish because the opening kinda implies that you've spent a bunch of time with Cove even if it's the first one you play, so I put it as late as possible to try and make it at least slightly accurate.

And for the moments afterwards, Cove (mostly) either has a slightly better/a neutral relationship with his dad (Library with him asking about a prize, for example, even if he ignores him overall, and Barbecue with the two of them watching the fireworks together) which feels appropriate after Runaway.

The last four are mostly just ranked by how much I like them. I know Fireflies is supposed to be super important because of how much it's referenced, but I find it slightly generic compared to the others.

I also think Sleepover is a really sweet ending to yours and Cove's relationship if you manage to make him stay for the whole night, and Barbecue is just before that since you can convince Cove for eat from your spoon. Library - unlike Grown Up - gives you a choice between spending time with Cove or Lizzie so that's just an extra bonus that I feel the player should have after spending enough time with Cove.

If you play Sandcastle, then, hrm... probably before Ghost? Since Cove mentions his dad "doing whatever he wants" in Ghost so if you tell Cove about the deal in Sandcastle then it adds a bit more context to that line.

Step 2

Family

Mall

Growing

Birthday

Dinner

Wave

Escapade

Summerwork

Road Trip

Soiree

This is slightly mixed up because I wanted to pace out the moments where either Kyra/Derek appears so it's not all shoved off in one big section. Family is also first because I wanted to try to start the player off with a better impression of Elizabeth since she's usually very grumpy and by the end of Family she's more relaxed with the player.

Birthday being after Mall is because Cove is less embarrassed about sharing stuff with the MC. Some people might question why it's still so early because you lose the gummy bear toss if you have a Mixed/Studious Cove and a non-athletic MC, so it might be best to give them as many opportunities as possible for the MC to up their athletic points, but the only time to do that is in the intro so it doesn't matter.

Summerwork might seem a little late but I also thought it'd be a realistic place whether your MC was actively working on their work over the summer or was just scraping by without much interest (the drama right before the relaxation of Road Trip also feels appropriate).

Escapade before Road Trip is important because if you asked for Cove's shirt in Escapade, then you get to take it with you in Road Trip, and Soiree's placement is just obvious (especially if you play Baxter's route rather than Cove, so you end the summer with getting to meet/dance with the "mystery boy").

Step 3

Hang

Drive

Boating

Talks

Happiness

Reflection

Late Shift

Errands

Charity

Hang, Drive, and Boating work as a nice re-introductory thing for Terri+Miranda, Kyra, and Liz+Lee+Baxter respectively.

I also tried to space out the multiple moments with potential drama (Talks, Reflection, and Errands), and Happiness takes place right after Talks since you can argue with Cove in that one and it feels very Cove to immediately jump to overdoing it on making you happy after something like that.

Late Shift is only semi-random since I wanted to space out the moments where you interact with Baxter (things would obviously be different if you're going for his route). Cove also picks from the dessert menu in it which leads nicely into Errands where the MC can buy him fudge.

Though Errands is admittedly 100% personal preference because I just really like it so I put it late on the list.

Charity is obvious, though if the player prefers to date Cove in Charity (rather than dating him in the in-between or confessing at the end of Step 2) and still have moments afterwards then it can be freely moved around.

As for Serendipity if you choose to play it, probably before Boating to add to all the introductory moments?

Again, the list isn't final but this is a rough estimate. Most of them are made for narrative reasons rather than moments that are directly mentioned in others so that'll definitely change.

#our life #our life: beginnings & always #olba #type: moment order #type: ask

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ofstarsandvibranium · 7 months

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Go For It

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: There's a bit of tension between you and Isaac since he doesn't want you to get hurt by any of his teammates, especially Jamie. But you're a grown woman and you what you want.

Meet Cousin McAdoo | Caffeine Crash | Tour de Richmond

It'd been a few days since you've seen Jamie. You figured you'd keep your distance since Isaac was making a big fuss about you two hanging out.

Eventually, you said "fuck it". You're a grown woman and Isaac can't tell you what to do. You wanted to see Jamie again. Therefore, you came by the pitch in the middle of their practice. Isaac was taking you to a show at the West End later so it'd make things easier for him anyway.

"Hey, Roy!," you nod to the coach, who gives you a grunt in response.

Your presence is noticed by the boys who all give you nods and waves. Your eyes lock with Jamie's and you smile, giving him a wave. He smiles and waves back but then when he sees everyone looking at him, he immediately stops and looks down.

You sigh, "Did Isaac give him a talk?"

"Gave everyone a talk. You're off limits."

You groan, "For fuck's sake. I can see whoever I please."

"Whoever you please? Like Jamie?"

You cross your arms over your chest, "Maybe...has he mentioned me?"

"Maybe he has. Maybe he hasn't," he matches your pose but looks a lot more intimidating than you, "What would your intentions be with him?"

You snort, "I'm not like a gold digger or something, Roy. I like Jamie. He's funny and sweet," you let your arms drop, "I get it though. You're protective of him."

Roy drops his arms too and scoffs, "I'm not protective of him. He's lil' prick!"

You pat his shoulder, "Suuuree. Try all you want, Roy. But I'm well aware of how that mean exterior covers up what a complete softie you are inside," you poke his cheek and then turn your attention onto the pitch, "If I go over there, will you hurt me?"

"Do you want to take that risk?"

You shrug, "I'm sure I'll be fine," you say as you walk onto the pitch to approach your cousin.

"Hey."

"You were supposed to come after practice was over," Isaac states as he's watching his teammates dribble balls up and down the pitch."

"I got bored. Figured I'd watch hot sweaty men kick a ball around."

Isaac grabs a ball and lightly kicks to you, "Have a go?"

"Alright," you toss your things to the side and do your best to control the ball.

The guys cheer you on as you do your best to keep the ball as close to you as possible. Sometimes you'd kick it a bit too hard and you'd chase after it.

"WHISTLE! Five minutes then scrimmage!" Roy yells and you plop yourself onto the grass. Isaac tosses you a spare water bottle and you drink from it.

"That was fun."

"You're not very good," Jan Maas states, which earns him a slap to the chest from Bumbercatch.

You laugh, "No, it's okay. I'm well aware my football skills are lacking. Maybe I should show up at practice to learn from you guys!"

"Wouldn't mind having a beautiful woman here to motivate us," Richard says with a wink but then scurries away from Isaac's intimidating gaze.

You lightly kick Isaac's ankle, "Oi! Knock it off! It's just shameless flirting."

Jamie then walks by you, giving you a nod, as he grabs his water bottle a small distance from you.

"You alright, Jamie?" you ask.

You watch as he glances from Isaac to you, "Yeah. I'm good." He continues to look down, avoiding you.

You roll your eyes and stand with a grunt. You approach Jamie with a whisper, "Hey."

"I'm not really allowed-"

"Oh fuck whatever Isaac says. He's being dumb and overprotective. Listen-"

Five minutes are up! Scrimmage! Now!" Roy yells and you groan.

"Sorry. I need to go," Jamie tosses his bottle down and heads back onto the pitch.

You're not going to let Jamie avoid you. You grab a spare jersey for the team Jamie was one and joined the pitch. Everyone looked at you confused.

"What? I'm bored and wanna see what all the fuss is about!"

The guys then looked at Isaac on what to do. He shrugs, "Let's show 'er how it's done, boys!" they all cheer but then he puffs his chest out and says, "But if any of you hurt her, you're dead!"

The cheering immediately stops.

"I'll be fine! Let's go!" You look to Roy who gives you a questioning look. You give him a nod and he yells, "WHISTLE" and the scrimmage starts.

You do your best to keep up with them. Dani kicks you the ball and you're screaming as you head towards the goal.

"Jamie!" you kick it towards him and he grins, kicking it back to you, yelling, "Go for it!"

You run, kicking the ball as hard as you can and everyone stops as it flies through the air and into the net.

You and the guys burst out in cheers and hollers. Jamie runs over to you and picks you up. He spins you around but then sets you back down as the guys crowd you. They're jumping around and cheering, patting you on the back. You never expected them to be so excited for you.

You laugh as Roy goes over to break it up and get back to playing. Jamie stays back as the rest of the guys head to their positions, "You trying to steal me job?"

You snort, "Hey, you told me to go for it."

"True."

He starts to head back but you call out for him, "Jamie!"

"Yeah?"

You hesitate for a moment, but then that voice inside is yelling, 'Fuck it all!'

"Y/N?" he calls your name, walking closer to you.

You smile shyly, "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Your question clearly takes him by surprise. His eyes widen and brows shoot up, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Jamie, we're grown adults. We don't have to do what Isaac says."

"He said he'll punch me in me face if I even look at you! And I like me face unpunched!" you couldn't help but laugh the slightly frightened look on his face.

You place a hand on his shoulder, "I'll deal with him. Are you free Friday night?"

"Yeah. I can be free Friday night," he smirks at you.

"Great. I'll grab your number before I leave then."

"Fucking mint," he says in disbelief, smiling widely at you.

"TARTT! HURRY UP, YOU PRICK!" Roy shouts.

"I'm coming!" Jamie yells back and he's running to the pitch, a big smile on his face.

#jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fic #fem!reader #f!reader #female!reader

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sfehvn · 5 months

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the apprentice

Description: AU- An ambitious criminal justice major undertakes an internship at, arguably, the most noteworthy law firm in the country. Things don't go as she plans, as the title of intern to Astarion Ancunin is synonymous with personal assistant, apparently.

A/N: I've been so all over the place with what I'm working on writing-wise, but this has been deep in my drafts and I figured I'd set it loose. I was reading '30 Days' by Astarionhq on A03 and really took inspiration for my own modern twist on an Astarion/Tav love story. I linked their story above; please check it out! Also my obsession with the whole 'enemies to lovers' trope is totally not apparent, psh. There will be a lot of pining and eventual smut. I'll include content warnings in individual chapters if any apply. Enjoy!

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI)

Word count: 4,595 Characters: au!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

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Beep.

The shrill sound prompted you to pull the heavy comforter over your head, willing away the sunbeams shining obnoxiously through your window. You groan as your hand smacks the wood of the nightstand haphazardly in a desperate attempt to stop the godawful noise coming from the alarm clock. Relief floods your senses as it finally ceases. You close your eyes and are on the precipice of sleep until realization dawns on you.

Fuck.

You had already snoozed the alarm three times prior. Meaning you were going to be royally late. With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you toss the warm blankets off you and bolt from the bed, barely glancing at the clock's LED. You could make out the emboldened numbers through your sleep-recovering eyes.

9:54

“Fuck. Fuck.” It was all that you managed as you darted around the room. In a flurry, you pull a black dress from your wardrobe. Making quick work of pulling off your pajamas, you slip it on hastily and step into your bathroom, carelessly sliding toothpaste over the bristles of your toothbrush before brushing your teeth. You pause, clamping down on the toothbrush with your teeth, bracing it as you lean down to secure the black heels to your feet that had been unceremoniously tossed aside on the bathroom floor the night before. Not typically the type to be late, of course the one time you were just so happened to be on the day that could make or break your professional career.

You push aside the self-berating for the time being as you rinse the paste from your mouth. Not having the time to shower now, you pull your long strands of hair into a high pony, carefully leaving out a few whisps of hair to frame your face. You had managed to make it out of your apartment before the clock struck ten, and hope bubbled in your chest at the thought that you may make this interview after all.

The bus you would have caught was long gone, so you jog the entire way. Juggling your purse, papers that included a resume, pages of references, and your phone to observe the time. You’re well aware of the disorganized mess you must look like as you stand in front of the receptionist’s desk. Chest heaving from the jog there, papers in disarray in your hands, the blonde woman behind the desk eyes you with a passing look of judgment, and the need to crawl into a hole and hide flits through your deflated ego. You give the woman your name, and she types it quickly and efficiently into the computer.

“I’m sorry, miss Tav.” The woman starts, “Mr. Ancunin has an eleven o’clock meeting. Your interview was scheduled for ten thirty. You’re nearly fifteen minutes late.” She looks up at you from her screen, and though she tries to appear sympathetic, the emotion is missing from her eyes. You glance at the clock above her head, stomach sinking to your toes.

10:43

“Right, yes. I completely understand. I had car troubles this morning and had to walk here; you know how crowded these sidewalks are.” You let out an awkward laugh, attempting to gain some level of relatability with the woman. She laughs wryly along with you, causing your face to visibly drop. “Listen, I-I really need this interview.” New approach: honesty. “Is there a later slot? I’d be happy to wait here all day if needed.”

“A lot of people need this interview, miss Tav.” The woman is unfazed by your pleading tone. “Unfortunately, there will be no more slots for this particular internship. The final interviews will occur later today, and Mr. Ancunin is completely booked for six months. It’s safe to say he will have come to a decision by then.”

Your shoulders drop. The sleepless nights of preparing, the references you had compiled from professors and other dignitaries alike, it didn’t matter. While, yes, you could always strive for another internship, Ancunin Associates was an elite law firm. In any case, you would have been guaranteed a job at any firm post-graduation had you completed this apprenticeship.

The woman is eyeing you expectantly, waiting rather impatiently for you to make your retreat. “Miss Tav, I will have to ask you to leave. Mr. Ancunin-“

You can barely hear her anymore as you make out the man passing through the large office. Walking with purpose past the tall, windowed walls overlooking the bustling city many floors below. His unnaturally silver hair is brushed back purposefully, leaving a few curls to swoop and fall over his forehead. Eyes that could only be described as honey pierced forward as if looking right through anyone who stood in his walking path. The finest of tailored suits adorned his figure, a figure you had no doubt was toned to the gods underneath. You recognized him from various news articles; he had been considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, after all.

You brush aside your musings, and adrenaline pumps through your veins. “Mr. Ancunin, my name is Tav. I had a ten-thirty interview for the open internship. I recognize I’m severely late, and I apologize, but I swear it is entirely out of character for me. Is there any possible chance I can fit into your schedule later today?”

He halts, staring at you with an indistinguishable look from across the office. You nearly regret speaking up to

him as he scrutinizes you. You can feel those golden eyes of his scanning over you, and you fight the urge to falter under it. You remain unmoving, trying to appear like you belong. His eyes are fixed on your chest for a passing moment, and the need to cover your frame burns through you.

“A bold one, hm?” His tone is teasing, though his face still holds firm. “Late and less than presentable. Does all of your clothing have those stains on them?” He gestures towards your chest, where he had previously been staring. You finally glance down and are met with a small white stain in the center of your chest. You’re sure your cheeks are flushed at this point, but instead of backing down, you shift the papers you held against your bosom, hiding the marred fabric from his eyes. You made a mental note that the next time you found yourself late to an important meeting, perhaps you should ensure toothpaste wasn’t all over you before leaving home.

“Mr. Ancunin, ten minutes of your time is all I need. Please.” He didn’t visibly react to your pleading, and his face remained stone-cold. The silence was deafening. The only sound you could make out was the thudding of your heart against your ribcage.

“Clear my eleven o’clock.” He says simply without addressing you, looking at the blonde woman you had just spoken to. “Come.” His words were firm. He turns on his heel towards the office he had just emerged from, silently expecting you to follow. You quietly breathe a sigh of relief as you oblige. A sleek black desk with an expensive-looking chair sat behind it in the center of the room. He holds out a hand, gesturing to one of the two armchairs in front of the desk, overlooking the large windows behind his chair. You silently obey his command, crossing your legs over one another as you wait for him to speak once more.

There’s a deafening silence as he eyes you, hands folded and resting in his lap once he’s sat down across from you. Mouth opening to speak, you close it when he holds his hand out in a quiet bid for the papers you had been holding. You wordlessly hand over your resume and references, and he scans the pages with an unreadable expression. The quiet stretches, and you fidget nervously in your seat, wishing you knew what was happening in his mind.

Finally, he looks up, those golden eyes locking onto yours. "Tav, is it?" he asks, his tone revealing nothing.

"Yes, sir. And I apologize again for my tardiness. It's not a reflection of my usual professionalism." You reply, trying to maintain a professional composure.

"Hm." He murmurs, leaning back in his chair. "Your credentials are impressive, Tav. Top of your class, stellar recommendations. But I'm curious—what makes you think you can manage this apprenticeship?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "Mr. Ancunin, I understand punctuality is crucial, and I take full responsibility for my tardiness today. However, my dedication, work ethic, and ability to adapt under pressure make me a valuable candidate for this position. I've faced challenges in the past and have consistently proven my commitment to overcoming them. I'm not one to let a setback define my capabilities."

A white eyebrow quirks in response, a smug look on his features. “Clearly. The tired university student you are, I presume you know how to make one hell of a cup of coffee?”

“I-” You start, feeling yourself shrink under his gaze. “Yes.” You murmur, brows pulling together in confusion.

He leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. There’s a hint of amusement in his honey-pooled eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “How about laundry?”

“Mr. Ancunin, no disrespect intended at all, sir-” You start.

“Astarion.” He says flatly.

“What?” Your voice catches in your throat, causing the word to shake as it leaves your lips.

“Call me Astarion.”

“Right, uh, Astarion,” You corrected. “I was hoping for an internship that would assist my legal career in flourishing. I didn’t anticipate I would be a personal assistant.” Your words trail.

Astarion clicks his tongue. “What a shame. I suppose there are many less desirable internships for you to pick from.”

Your mind races as you process the unexpected turn of events. Astarion's gaze remains fixed on you, a challenging glint in his eyes. You weigh your options, considering the potential impact on your career aspirations.

Taking a deep breath, you respond with a measured tone, "Astarion, I appreciate the opportunity to interview for this internship, and I am genuinely passionate about pursuing a legal career. However, I believe my skills and dedication would be best utilized in a legal capacity rather than as a personal assistant. I've worked diligently to excel in my academic pursuits and gain valuable experience in the legal field, and I'm eager to contribute those skills."

He tilts his head, the smirk on his face deepening. "Ambition, I like that. But you see, Tav, I value versatility. A good legal mind is undoubtedly crucial, but navigating the intricacies of the legal world often requires more than just legal acumen. It requires adaptability, resourcefulness, and an understanding of the broader aspects of the business. Consider this a test of your ability to handle the unexpected."

You take a moment to absorb his words, recognizing the challenge he's presenting. The internal debate intensifies within you — compromise for the sake of opportunity or stand firm on your premise. After a brief pause, you choose your words carefully, "I'm eager to prove my versatility and dedication to this role. If this is the path you believe will showcase my abilities, I am open to embracing the challenges it presents."

Astarion's eyes narrow slightly as if assessing the sincerity of your response. "Very well, Tav. We'll start with a trial period. Consider today's events as part of your initiation. Now, as for the legal matters, we'll get to those as the internship progresses. But for now, let's see how you handle some of the more... practical aspects of the job.”

You nod numbly, and you’re confident you look silly sitting there with your mouth slightly ajar from the whiplash of the situation at hand.

Astarion leans back, seemingly satisfied with your response. He gestures for you to follow him once again as he stands, leading you through a maze of offices and hallways in the prestigious law firm. As you walk beside him, you can't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and determination. This internship might not be unfolding as you envisioned, but you're determined to prove yourself in whatever capacity necessary.

The two of you eventually arrive at what appears to be a spacious lounge area, complete with an elegant coffee machine. It's clear that Astarion's definition of versatility extends beyond legal matters.

"Now, Tav," he begins, "We'll start with a simple task. Make me a cup of coffee."

You nod, moving towards the coffee machine. While you might be more accustomed to preparing legal briefs, you're not one to shy away from a challenge. As you navigate the machine's buttons, you glance over at Astarion, who has taken a seat in the lounge area.

The machine whirs to life, and you focus on measuring the coffee grounds and water precisely. A sense of determination fuels your movements. Astarion watches you intently, his unreadable expression giving away little.

Once the cup is filled with the scorching liquid, you reach for the creamer and halt your movements as he speaks again. “Black.” You turn to hand him the mug, seemingly awaiting his approval as he sips from the cup. You fidget with your hands in front of you, eyeing him with the same scrutiny he had watched you with earlier in your encounter.

He does not note on the coffee you had readied for him; instead, he is fishing into his pocket. He pulls out a set of keys, handing them to you. “You are aware of the apartments on Oleander, correct?”

Taking the keys into your hands, you gaze down at them in confusion. Of course, you knew that only the most affluent resided in them. There was a sinking suspicion of where this was going deep in your gut.

“Mine is the penthouse at the very top. You will do my laundry and clean it until it is sparkling. Understood?”

There was a new feeling sated into your bones. Anger. Not to mention the fact that he expected you to go into his home when he was not present. “I don’t feel this arrangement would be very professional.” You fire back, trying to hide the malice dripping in your tone. He was toying with you.

Astarion’s eyes still held that teasing gleam as he spoke. “That’s undoubtedly alright. We have many other candidates coming in later today. I’m sure one of them would be up to the task.”

You close your eyes briefly, taking in a large breath of air in order to keep yourself calm. You open them once more, smiling wryly down at him. “I’d be happy to.” You mutter through gritted teeth.

“Brilliant.” Astarion states, standing from his seated position. He sets the mug down on an end table. “Oh, and do try to improve on your coffee-making abilities. That was rather lackluster.”

How the fuck do you mess up black coffee?

There was no doubt left in your mind about what he was doing. You needed this internship, though, and you were prepared to go to questionable lengths to secure it. “Of course.” You deadpanned, no amusement left on your face. What an arrogant bastard.

“You can keep that set.” Astarion gestured to the keys in your hand. “I expect you’ll be done before I return home. I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.” The smirk never left his smug face as he spoke. He departs the room, surely to whatever big meeting is next on his agenda. Perhaps to terrorize someone else. You’re left standing there, dumbfounded at how wrong this entire day seemed to be going.

As Astarion strides away, leaving you with the keys and the absurd task ahead, a maelstrom of thoughts swirls through your mind. You glance down at the keys in your hand, a symbolic link to the penthouse on Oleander that you are now responsible for. The weight of the situation settles on your shoulders, mixing with the frustration and determination that courses through your veins.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your composure. This might not be the internship you envisioned, but it's an opportunity nonetheless. You remind yourself of the stakes, the prestige of Ancunin Associates, and the potential doors this internship could open. Swallowing your pride, you decide to tackle the tasks ahead with a professional mindset. Even if he was not.

–

You hadn’t anticipated spending your day cleaning some corporate asshole’s million-dollar penthouse, yet here you were. No doubt, he had to have staff for this. So why was it being made your problem? The penthouse wasn’t anything that you weren’t expecting. It looked like it had been taken straight out of a catalog, and it seemed to be missing any warmth. There was nothing hung on the stark white walls, aside from small discreet security cameras tucked into the corners. You wondered briefly if he was watching you and decided he had to be. You were a complete stranger he had sent into his home by yourself. You mutter an expletive quietly, toeing off your heels by the front door. A few dishes are in the sink, and you figure that to be the best place to start.

As you tackle the dishes, the silence of the penthouse is only broken by the occasional distant hum of city life far below. The gleaming surfaces and pristine environment reflect the meticulous nature of the man who owns this place. You can't shake the feeling that every move you make is being observed by Astarion himself or by the unassuming security cameras.

While you scrub away at the plates, your mind replays the unusual turn of events. How did a promising legal internship morph into a personal assistant role with a side of housekeeping duties? The anger you felt towards the man came back in full force. You were well aware that you were being taken advantage of, but the need to prove yourself to Astarion gnawed at you either way.

Think of the years of schooling, Tav. Of who you plan to be after graduation. You silently reminded yourself.

As you navigate the unfamiliar kitchen, you spot a sleek tablet on the countertop. It seems to control various aspects of the penthouse – lights, temperature, and security. You make a mental note to familiarize yourself with it, realizing that understanding the intricacies of Astarion's living space might become essential.

The pristine silence is suddenly interrupted by the chime of an incoming message on the tablet. You approach it cautiously, noting Astarion's name on the notification. With a sense of trepidation, you open the message.

"Ensure you clean the living room thoroughly. I'll be hosting a small gathering there tonight. Impress me."

His words are concise, leaving you with a sense of urgency. The mundane task of washing dishes has evolved into preparing a high-profile space for an event you weren't aware of until now. A twinge of frustration simmers beneath the surface, but you push it aside, noting that you had only a few hours before the sun began to set.

You move from the kitchen to the living room, carefully dusting surfaces and arranging furniture to meet an unspoken standard of perfection. The penthouse, already immaculate, undergoes another level of scrutiny under your watchful eyes. You can't help but feel a sense of absurdity, thinking that a legal intern's day would involve ensuring the alignment of decorative pillows and the spotless shine of a glass coffee table.

As the day progresses, you are caught between bouts of irritation and determination. The controlled environment of Ancunin Associates has given way to the uncharted territory of Astarion's penthouse. The duality of your responsibilities — legal intern and personal assistant — blurs lines, leaving you grappling with the unexpected.

Stumbling into Astarion’s bedroom, you narrow your eyes at the scene before you. It was a change from who you had come to anticipate him as. Clothes were tossed carelessly to the ground, and upon further inspection, you were under the impression that one of these shirts could pay two months of your rent. You huff, gathering the misplaced clothes into your arms and setting them aside to be washed. You made quick work of putting his bed together, fluffing pillows, and tidying the sheets and blankets.

Stepping into the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom, you prepare to toss out the small trash bin. Your eyes narrow, and you make a sound of disgust at the sight. Two used condoms were the only contents.

There’s no way in hell I’m touching that.

You grumble as you step back out of the bathroom, flicking the light off in your wake. You would settle on simply putting Astarion’s clothes in the washer and heading out. Surely he wouldn’t expect anything more of you? You had already spent hours here.

However, as you return to the living room, the notification chime on the tablet draws your attention again. Another message from Astarion, and the words cut through your plans this time.

"Make sure you check the bedroom and bathroom. Attention to detail is crucial. I trust you won't disappoint."

Your frustration spikes, but you suppress it, realizing that your choices in this matter are limited. Taking a deep breath, you return to the bathroom. You need this apprenticeship, Tav.

You gather the courage to dispose of the used condoms, not allowing yourself to dwell on the

contents of them. The situation's absurdity is not lost on you – an intern scrubbing someone else's bathroom, particularly a man of Astarion's means. You felt as if you were living in a movie.

The sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow through the expansive windows of the penthouse. Your eyes sweep the living room, confirming that it meets the standards Astarion expects for his gathering. Despite the challenging nature of the day, a slight sense of accomplishment settles within you. You may not have expected to play the role of a personal assistant, but you've embraced the challenge and proven your ability to adapt.

As you prepare to leave, the tablet chimes again, signaling a final message from Astarion.

"Lock up behind yourself. Be ready for a full day tomorrow. We have much to discuss."

The weight of the day lingers as you walk home. The anger festers in your chest, though you try not to indulge it. This couldn’t have been the first time Astarion has taken advantage of having a desperate college student under his thumb. You can’t help but think the people who had deemed this to be one of the best internships for criminal justice are full of shit. You grumble in distaste, your feet feeling as if they’re on fire from the miles you were walking back to your shithole apartment on the south side of town, ten miles from Astarion’s penthouse. At this rate, you had been walking for an hour and a half, yet you were only halfway there.

You lean down, slipping the high heels off of your burning feet and cradle them in your arms.

The cool night air hits your face as you continue your journey, heels in hand. The events of the day play over and over in your mind, and the determination to prove yourself mingles with the frustration of the unconventional tasks assigned to you. As you approach your apartment building, a mix of exhaustion and frustration boils deep in your chest.

Opening the door to your modest apartment, you let out a heavy sigh. The contrast between Astarion's penthouse and your own space is stark, but a sense of resilience fuels your spirit. You toss the heels you had been holding aside and head straight to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Disheveled hair, tired eyes, but an unmistakable fire within them.

“Finally home?” A voice rings out, and you see Shadowheart leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, dangling two empty glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I figured we could celebrate.” You sigh, leaning against the bathroom sink and turning to face her. She raises her eyebrows, wiggling the bottle in a way that wordlessly says, ‘you know you want to’. You did, but your knees felt weak under your weight and your calves burned to the hells.

“I’m not even sure if there is anything to celebrate.” You snort in response, shooting her an apologetic look. She finally takes note of just how tired you truly looked, and her shoulders slumped.

“You didn’t get it? I just assumed since you were gone all day.” Shadowheart furrows her brows. “What happened?”

“No, I did get it. I think.” You huff, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Though it’s not at all what I expected.”

Shadowheart sits on the edge of your bed, listening as you fill her in on the day's events. The arrogance of the one and only Astarion Ancunin. “So he has you cleaning his house? I mean, truthfully, the coffee thing isn’t totally unheard of. But his used condoms?” She makes a sound of distaste deep in her throat, screwing her face up to match her tone of disgust.

“I’m a mess, Shadow.” You mutter, retreating from the bathroom in a fresh change of pajamas. The thought of spending a second more cleaning up his messes filled you with dread and, after knowing Astarion for only a day, you knew with full certainty that your distaste for the man would only grow.

“Was he as hot as the tabloids make him look?” She asks teasingly.

“Really?” You mutter, accepting the now-filled glass as you sit back into the pillows on your bed.

“What?” Shadowheart chuckles. “I’m just saying it may be more manageable if you’ve got eye candy to look at while you spend your days doing his laundry.” Her tone was teasing, though you knew there was a hint of truth in her tone.

The groan that left your lips was exasperated, bringing the wine glass to your lips and accepting the bitterly sweet liquid as it rolled over your tongue.

As you sip the wine, a mix of exhaustion and frustration settles within you. Shadowheart's attempt to lighten the mood brings a small smile to your face, but the reality of the situation looms large. The taste of the wine is a welcome reprieve, a momentary escape from the days to come with Astarion Ancunin ordering you about.

Nevertheless, the conversation with Shadowheart provides a brief respite. “He looks like a god if I’m being honest.” You finally admit with a slight chuckle. “Like he’s been cut straight from stone. He just so happens to be the biggest asshole I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.”

You finish your glass and return it to her, smiling gratefully as she takes it. “You just so happen to be the toughest girl I know. It’s, what, a six-month internship? Just keep your eyes on the prize, Tav.” She reassures before letting out a yawn of her own. “That being said, I’ve got to be up early myself. I’ll make sure you’re actually awake before I leave.” Shadowheart says pointedly.

Once she leaves, you relax into your duvet, eyes closing as relaxation settles into your bones for the first time since you’d sprung out of bed that morning. No, nothing had gone particularly how you had hoped. Shadowheart’s words stoked the burning fire of ambition inside of you, and you felt eternally grateful to call her your friend.

Just keep your eyes on the prize, Tav.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #tav #reader #au!astarion x tav #au!astarion x reader #au #au!astarion

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

Text

—STRANGER

—Logan had been sent back to the seventies to save the world. And to introduce a few future lovers to each other

—Word count: 1.6k+

—Extra: n/a

To say the proffessor wasn't like he expected would be an understatement.

The Proffessor X Logan knew was a wise man whom, yes had his flaws, but was nonetheless a very sensible man who only wished for the best out of everyone. He was a mentor. A teacher. A father figure to hundereds. And the very same man who was supposed to be the one in his own place, saving the world ahead of time.

But the professor next to him didn't even look like one. He just looked like—a Charles. A very scrappy man named Charles.

Being sent back to the past to scrape together the few mutants who would trust or believe him was a challenge enough. Yet somehow the universe managed to make it harder with the challenge of a few stubborn people with the habit to wallow in self pity.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose for what felt like the tenth time in the last half hour, jaw set in annoyance as a silver haired boy in the back seat rattled off questions like it was nobody's business.

The steering wheel underneath his hand groaned with the effort he was clutching it with. From the backseat Hank tossed Logan the occasional look, somewhere between a mixture of concern and nerves.

"Where are we going anyways? I ran out of the car a couple miles back and were driving in the opposite direction of the pentagon. Don't tell me you're kidnapping me. I don't think you'd kidnap me. You're too old for that." Peter's voice was non stop. Question after question after question. Like a talk show host. Similar to a talk show host, most of his comments flew right over everyones heads as white noise. But those few particular ones seemed to catch the attention of the other occupants in the car.

"Yes. Thats—that's actually a good point Peter." Charles pointed out, grunting as he adjusted his seatbelt in the passengers seat. He looked rather uncomfortable, and Logam chose to assume he hadnt been out of the run down school for a while. Much less in a car. "Where exactly are we going now Logan?"

"To see a friend." He grummbled. Charles raised an eyebrow, wating for more context, but he offered none.

"Are you always this grouchy man?"

Hank shut Peter up with a kick to the leg.

"I just figured we might need to pick them up. Good for the break in. And my sanity. If were gonna break Erik out I'd rather have somebody to keep us all in check there. Their one of the people I actually like where I come from." Logan eventually relented, taking another turn with the car, leading them all on a gravel road now.

"Them?" Peter piped up, dissapearing with a woosh before appearing right where he had been before. Hank jumped, still not used to it. "You mean the person living in the uhh little brown house two miles from here? It has a nice apple tree."

"The house wasnt brown when I knew it, but yes."

"Do we get to know about this mystery person or are we just supposed to go along with you and walk into some strangers house? We dont even know them." Charles said skeptically whilst cleaning his sunglasses on his shirt.

Logan had to stop himself from smiling.

"You'll get to know them eventually alright."

(Y/n) honestly was fine living off the map. Well it wasn't really off the map per say, just tucked away in a place where few people ever thought to pass by. Besides the occasional gas station or two, there was nothing bit plain empty highway for miles around. The only person who ever came to visit regularly was the young woman who delivered their mail every Saturday.

"Alright! I'm coming I'm coming! Hold on a minute!"

(Y/n) struggled with pulling a spare jacket they had laying around over their black shirt in an attempt to look put together. Nearly tripping down the stairs two at a time it was a miracle they ended up at their front door without any missing teeth.

Their eyes had bags under them, days of sleep seemingly have evaded them. Smile lines and small scars took up the rest of their face like a map detailing every inch of the world. Despite being in their mid twenties, they looked like they had seen more than most of the full grown adults out there.

"I didn't think the mail came untill Saturday Jane! What did you miss me or something?"

Their words faded out as soon as their front door had swung open, giving way to the sight of four very different looking men.

"You're not Jane." They squinted suspiciously.

Logan nearly chuckled at the tone—meant to be intimidating but friendly all the same. Same (Y/n) as always.

"Sorry to disappoint, but we need your help." He kept his distance, letting them test the situation. Litteraly.

Logan knew that if Charles has his powers, he would have been able to feel as (Y/n) entered not only his but all of their heads at once, reaching deeper and deeper untill they found the emotions resting deep inside of everyone. And based on the way that they opened the door for wide enough for them to walk through after a moment, he figured they must have found them too.

Peter wasted no time touring the house, gusts of wind sounding up and down the stairs, (Y/n) blinking once or twice before shaking their head as a result.

"Mutants?" They asked, sitting at the bottom step of their stairs with their head in their hands. (They sat just off to the side so that way they wouldn't get in the way of Peter's joyride around the place.)

"You tell me." Was all Logan said before showing them his hands. Judging on the way (Y/n) scrunched their face up he figured they could feel his pain as his claws broke through skin.

"And now you have boney thingies coming from your knuckles. I'd like to go back to bed now please." They mummbled.

"Listen, we didn't come here to chat." (Y/n)'s focus redirected itself from the guy with the claws in front of them to a new face, accompanied with a brisish accent. And some very odd tastes in style. They wondered if he had cut his hair himself. Or not at all.

Most of all, they could feel the exasperation and exhaustion rolling off of him in waves. Along with a lot of other emotions they couldn't directly decipher. A first in the usage of their powers to say the least. The empath could only get a read on his surface emotions; none of the important ones.

Maybe it was that or the way he seemed to demand apt attention as he spoke, but (Y/n) turned their body to face him with curious eyes. Silently challenging him to continue. It was a stark change in attitude from the disbelief they had been expressing moments ago, but this was not uncommon in an empath. Especially from one such as them.

Logan stepped back with the hints of a genuinely amused smile pulling at his lips, pushing back a very confused looking Hank with him (who at this point was just there to be the civil one).

It was always a sight to see when the two future lovers would get into an in depth conversations. Like watching a game of 3D chess from some other dimension. You knew the basics, but that was all. The real meaning of it all was left to the players.

"I don't know why Logan has brought us here but it must be for a reason. As all things are. But you must know that the world is in grave danger. I do not know what level of convincing I need to do to get you to come with us but—"

"I'll come."

Charles stopped to peer down at them through his sunglasses. (Y/n) didn't break eye contact. He felt like they were looking stright through him and into his heart.

"One thing you must know about me, I tend to act off of emotions." They smiled to themself, Charles getting the feeling that he was missing some sort of inside joke. "And I have a hint you all aren't here with bad intentions. At least not to me."

Peter appeared next to Hank once again, his hair wild from a few minutes of running around the same area and carrying what Charles assumed to be various things from (Y/n)'s household; all casset tapes.

"I like them. Good taste in music. I say we bring 'em." He zipped over to the stairs and sat next to them, wrapping an arm around their shoulders confidently while offering then some gum.

"Would it upset you if I called you Speedy?" (Y/n) said while taking it.

"Not at all, new friend."

That was how they ended up locking the door to their house and leaving a note for the mailman detailing how they would be gone for a bit, everyone waiting by or in the car.

"Now, tell me exactly why you seem to be so fond of this person." Charles asked, leaning against the outside of the cars red exterior next to Logans large figure. He kept an eye on (Y/n), not quite sure why he felt compelled to keep track of them. "Do you fancy them or something?" He ran a hand through his long hair, tossing a small and tentive wave at them upon catching their eye.

Logan nearly choked on his laugh.

"Not quite professor." He outright laughed aloud. Something Charles had yet to hear from him. "Just make sure to send me an invitation to the wedding when you finally work up the courage to propose in a few years."

He smirked at Charles' face, eyes now the size of dinner plates.

"Now off to go commit a federal crime. And get your fucking feet off my dash Maximoff."

#charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #xmen #xmen x reader #xmen: days of future past #xmen days of future past x reader #xmen days of future past #peter maximoff #logan #wolverine #hank #hank mccoy

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epiclamer · 2 years

Note

Okay so I dunno if anybody else has asked for anything similar (probably have) but I'd just like to say that I absolutely LOVE the Cocky/Fun Hero x Stoic/Serious Villain trope

So could I have some of that 👀 you can have a field day with it, I'd just love to see it

(ALSO IF YOU AND CAT HAVE PERSONAS CAN I DRAW YOU TWO PLEASE PLEASELPLEWSLSENPPLEA)

We don’t really have personas?? But you can draw us of course. Use your imagination~

Cw: this is smutty if you couldn’t already tell from the title

Pathetic Puppy

Hero’s eyes followed their nemesis, watching them pace calmly from one side of the room to the other, hardly batting an eye at the crime-stopper they had so conveniently kidnapped earlier that morning. Twirling a small knife between their fingers with care, unaffected by any of the other’s remarks.

The hero on the other hand was sat in an ill-fitting metal chair, wrists tied tightly behind their back, forcing them to sit up straight to avoid further discomfort. However, despite their position, Hero couldn’t shut up.

“So when are you going to get to the actual fun stuff?” Villain shot them a glare, but made no other recoil. “I mean, if you’re going to tie me up and spread me out all pretty like this… Why waste an opportunity, am I right?”

The smirk in Hero’s tone was so obvious it made Villains blood boil. They had to remain serious. They had kidnapped the hero for answers not teasing, Villain couldn’t bear another second of it.

“I hate to break it to you, but you actually have to touch the other person to edge them—”

“Shut. Up.”

Villain halted their pacing, turning to face their captive as they crowded in on their personal space. Placing the point of their dagger against the column of Hero’s throat.

“Do you ever just shut up? Can’t you take anything seriously?”

A beat of silence passed, Hero’s eyes wide as they blinked innocently up at their nemesis who was towering over them. Then, Hero grinned, eyes dancing from the blade at their throat to the fuming Villain above.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m into this?”

The villain sighed exasperatedly, rubbing their free hand over their face in annoyance. They needed a nap, anything over fifteen minutes with the hero was exhausting. How did they have such smugness to their demeanour all the time.

“What. You have something for knife play?”

Hero snickered, swallowing shallowly to avoid being sliced open by the villain’s knife. “Kidnapping and torture actually. It’s why I became a hero.”

Villain tossed their weapon the side, groaning out of pure spite and utter hatred for their cocky captive. They couldn’t pretend anymore that it didn’t drive them insane, every business talk turned into flirting and every serious conversation became a tactic of seduction.

Some part of them was convinced this was an attitude Hero kept up with everyone they met, but never had Villain actually been able to prove it.

“Well you obviously aren’t drained enough of your energy and charisma to talk about your facility plans, so how about I leave you to stir for a couple hours and then come back.” Villain leaned forwards, placing their hands on Hero’s thighs—not even considering the consequences this action might bring—and squeezing lightly.

Hero dropped their face in an instant, head angled towards the ground and breathing coming in shallower. Villain squeezed harder, nails digging into their enemy’s thighs at their lack of compliance.

“How does that sound, hm? You like that?” Villains thumbs worked the inside of Hero’s thighs as they spoke, gently pushing into the plush skin, lips by Hero’s ear and breath hot against their neck.

Genuinely, Villain didn’t think anything of it. To them it was a fear tactic, your enemy up close and in your space threatening you with potential longtime sensory deprivation? That scared the hell out of the criminal. They figured Hero felt the same way.

But then, Hero whimpered. They fucking whimpered.

A whiny strained sound that caught Villains immediate attention. It did something Villain had never experienced before, the sound their nemesis made set their whole body ablaze.

Not in a bad way, no not at all. No, this was a good fire. One that ignited feelings Villain hadn’t felt in years and all of a sudden, they wanted more.

“Hero.”

The one in question didn’t move, didn’t even make a sound besides the shuddering of their breath. Eyes still glued to the floor and face still tucked into their chest.

Villain, however, didn’t have time to sit around and wait. One hand moving swiftly from the hero’s thigh to a strong grip at the roots of their hair, wrenching Hero’s head up as far as it would go.

Hero yelped, gasping, pain centred at their scalp and their neck of which Villain pulled at uncomfortably. Squeezing their eyes tightly closed to avoid the sudden onslaught of light in their face.

Villain merely smirked, examining the hero’s look with great detail. Red in the face, mouth slightly agape and taking in short bursts of air, tousled hair, frantic eyes as they opened, sweat beating their forehead, throat bobbing up and down.

“God. You look so pathetic.”

Hero consequently whined helplessly at the remark, trying to look anywhere, but in the villain’s eyes.

“Oh yeah? You’re into that? You like it when I call you pathetic? When I degrade you about how powerless and needy you are?” Villain had never acted like this before, it somewhat surprised themselves, but the hero was different, there was something so addictive and intoxicating about the sounds they made that left all of Villain’s ego behind. All of that business meetings and facility plans were far gone in the dust now.

“Go on, sweetie.” Villain egged, “Make another pretty whimper for me, hm?”

Hero complied right away. Spilling some pleas and whines and whimpers from their red lips desperately. Promises to be good and obedient for the villain were mindlessly tripping off their tongue, lost entirely in the heat between their nemesis and themselves.

Villains eyes lit up, humming softly as they brought their other hand to trace Hero’s jawline, down to their neck and across their tensed shoulders.

“You’re such a good puppy… So good for me, hm?”

Every word that came out of Villains mouth seemed to embarrass Hero to a new extent, but when Villain took a glance between Hero’s restrained thighs they could see the effect Hero couldn’t help themselves from having against it.

It was pitiful. Fuck, everything about Hero was pitiful and defenceless and the way they acted so tough, but couldn’t handle two seconds of touch nor two words of degradation? It was exhilarating.

“Hmm…” Villain travelled their free hand across and down Hero’s body, finally teasing between their legs as they began to stroke with their thumb.

“I think it’s my turn to have some fun, no?”

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boliv-jenta · 9 months

Text

No outbreak Joel Miller x inexperienced f!reader

Dave York x inexperienced f!reader

WC:3.9k

Summary: With the summer coming to an end, Joel teaches you one more lesson.

Warnings: Unprotected P in V sex. Protected P in V sex (explicit, to make up for all the unprotected sex. Use condoms!) Rough oral m!receiving. Swearing. Talk of adultery. Dave York.

Summer Schooled

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Masterlist

It turns out Sarah was actually ill. Just a little tummy bug but it kept her home for a couple of days. When she was starting to recover on the second day you'd dropped in to visit her.

"Hey!" She'd perked up as you entered the living room where she lay in a nest of blankets and pillows.

"Hi. I wanted to come check on you. My mom made you some soup." You gestured over your shoulder to where you'd handed the container to Joel in a very awkward interaction. Joel hadn't so much as texted you in the last couple of days so when he opened the door neither of you were sure what to say. He'd made polite conversation, thanked you for the soup, then invited you in to talk to Sarah.

"Thank you. You wanna stay and watch a movie? We're bingeing bad action movies."

Hesitantly, you looked at Joel. He gave you a half shrug and waved his hand as if he was pushing the ball into your court.

"Yeah. I'd love that. I've missed you this week." That was true, you had.

When you leave you are going to miss Sarah and the York girls. They're all going to grow up into such amazing women. Funny, smart, strong. Each one has their own distinct little character. They never failed to make you laugh or to come out with something to make you think.

The movie was not even half way over when Sarah fell fast asleep. Her curled up form gently rose and fell with each even breath. Even you standing from the end of the sofa she'd given you was enough to wake her. Joel had tossed his head towards his office to get you to follow him.

"Hey." The same greeting as his daughter but a wildly different tone. He seemed shy almost. With the doors now closed behind him he walked towards you. "I wanted to talk to you before you leave. I kind of got caught up in all of this." His hand came up to rub the back of his neck. "It was Dave's idea to play into all your doe eyed flirting. I know you're not as innocent as you've been making out or I swear to God I would never have touched you, legal or not. I got lost on a power trip. On having you on my terms. I haven't had much luck with women over the last decade. They didn't want to come second to Sarah or third to my business. Which I get…" he caught your eyes looking at him patiently. "...anyway. I just wanted to apologise. I hope I haven't put you off men for life just because…" he trailed off.

Tentatively, you lay a hand on the arm the was now across his chest gripping his other arm. "Because…?"

"Because I was lonely and needed to be seen as more than a father or a contractor. I wanted to be wanted. Fuck, I still don't know if you wanted me or the little fantasy we built up."

"It was definitely you Joel. I liked you plenty before that, because you're a great dad, because you're a competent contractor. It's all very hot. You're very hot, and funny, and smart, and if I were a few years older…"

"Just a few…?" He huffed out a laugh.

"Just a few." You smiled. "I would love to date you."

"How do I know you're not just flattering an old man to get some dick?"

"Because I could go get some old man dick from down the street with a whole lot less work."

"Fair. Make sure you get him tested first though. I did. Twice. I wasn't letting him near you until I knew he was clean."

"I figured you both would. I trust you."

"Just don't go trusting everyone like that." His arm wrapped around you to bring you into a hug. Your hands rested on his chest feeling his heartbeat softly.

After a moment of just being together in each others arms, you placed a kiss to his lips. "I mean it, Joel. I think you're great and any woman would be lucky to have you."

Before he could answer Sarah called his name.

Dave's knuckles turned white as his hand gripped over yours on the headboard. If the bed wasn't as sturdy it would have been slapping against the wall from the force of Dave's thrusts. His knees were in between yours spreading them as he took you from behind. The hand that wasn't on yours was working you clit in tight circles.

"Fuck." He snarled into your hair. "I'm going to miss this pussy. You get so fucking wet…so hot…got me pussy drunk. I just want to keep slamming my dick home. Oh, shit. Ohhh." His cock twitched inside you as felt the warmth of his cum spread.

For a second you were a little disappointed that you hadn't come yet, then you realised he was still very much hard."Dave?!"

"Little blue pill. I haven't got his pussy for much longer. I'm not wasting it." He carried on his furious pace. There was something about him fucking his cum deeper inside you than made your toes curl and had you coming around him. "Oh, Dave!"

"Oh, that's it. God, the way your tight little cunt clamps down further on my cock…ugh." He dragged you flush against him. The hand from the headboard palmed one of your breasts. He rolled your nipple in between his fingers. His lips sucked at your neck. Twice you'd had to yank his hair to stop him leaving marks. He'd playfully nipped at your ear before moving his lips to kiss somewhere else. He pushed you over the edge twice more before finally beginning to lose his erection.

When the two of you collapsed on the bed it was odd how your instinct was to find your own space. Even with the oxytocin coursing through your veins giving your vision a rosy tint, you didn't feel the need for any more physical contact. Unlike with Joel where you craved his gentle touch.

"Well I think that's all the lessons I have in me today." Dave slowed his breathing as he lay on his back, his cock soft against his thigh.

"Lessons? You don't seem to be teaching me much. You just rail me." You laughed through your panting.

"Just rail you? Some women would kill for me to just rail them."

"You know what I mean." You slapped his bare chest.

"Up. I gotta change these sheets before Carol gets back." He held out his hand to pull you to your feet before setting to work.

"Why do you cheat on her?" The question was out of your mouth before you thought about it.

Surprisingly, Dave stopped and sat on the bed, the half bundled up sheets in his hands. He wrang them as he spoke. "I don't think of it as cheating. It's like we're in an open marriage, we just haven't agreed on it out loud. Carol's had her fair share of men."

"So why not talk to her?" You took a chance and sat next to him, just close enough to provide some comfort with your presence.

"I might not be in love with her but I love her. I'd miss her if she were gone. She's family. I'd miss the time we spend together with the girls, as a family. I can't risk that." He turned to look you in the eyes as he spoke. Those brown eyes were so full of sincerity you almost reached out to hug him. Almost.

Bringing yourself back from being lost in his eyes you asked. "Isn't fucking me in her bed risky?"

"No, that's just sex. Talking about our relationship. That's the risk. That's where things can snowball. I won't do that to my girls."

Again you softened just a touch towards him. Enough to place the barest of kisses to his cheek. "You're a good father, Dave. You're not winning any awards for being a good person but you're a good father."

"Thank you." It was sincere. The two of you sat in the moment. A softness sitting between you that had never been there before. It was pleasant until Dave broke it. "Right. Up. I've got to wash your cum out of my wife's sheets." The playful smirk on his face showed you this was him slipping his mask back in place.

Friday night rolled around. This time on Sunday you'd be in your new home, ready to start your new life. It still didn't seem real. The last couple of years the itch to get out and see the world had been under your skin. Now you were close to finally scratching suddenly it was more of a subtle tingle that you could ignore. Being here with Joel, and Dave, seeing a new part of the world with them, that could be it for now. They could satisfy your wanderlust, as well as a few other lusts. College could wait a year. You could try to romanticise it all you wanted, the truth was cold feet were setting in bad. When Joel called you to look after Sarah you were relieved to have something to distract you.

The Miller's front door opened to reveal Joel. He was freshly showered, his damp hair was slicked back. He looked so good that you had to remind yourself that you were here for Sarah not him. Although you might have worn your short, button down tea dress hoping for even a quick moment with him.

"Hi, Mr Miller." You called Joel by his first name plenty of times in front of Sarah but putting up the pretence of respecting your elders helped to keep you from sliding into other habits with Joel. The last thing you wanted to do was slip up and touch him in front of Sarah.

The door closed behind you seconds before your back met it. Joel was crowding you up against it. His lips crushed to yours, his hand in your hair tugged sharply to open your mouth so he could fill it with his tongue. His other hand worked at pulling down your panties before two thick, calloused fingers skimmed your thigh before being pressed deep inside you. Joel's lips never left yours until the rhythmic pumping of his fingers and the brush of the heel of his palm had you calling his name.

When he pulled away, leaving you a trembling mess with your panties around your knees being held up by the door, he flashed you that sinister grin. "Dave's got Sarah. He wanted to make up for basically being a piece of shit and stealing more time with you."

Excitement flushed your veins, your heart rate picked up, you felt you were in trouble. Part of you braced yourself when Joel stalked towards you. His chest was almost touching yours when he squatted down slowly, never breaking eye contact, to help you out of your panties. He licked one solidarity strip through your folds before standing up to kiss you. The tang of you on his tongue was electric.

"While he was bragging. He also said you said he doesn't teach you anything. Why don't you tell me what you want for a change? You can be in charge." This Joel was new to you. The predatory smirk was gone. His voice was soft. He wasn't Dom Joel. Or Mr Miller. Or the helpful handyman. This was Joel the equal. The fellow adult. Offering to fill a need.

Tears threatened to form in your eyes. "I'm moving back east, to a new place, I'll have a few friends I can meet up with but other than that I'm on my own in the big bad world. I'll be making my own choice then. Right now, I want you to make my choices for me. I want to be your good girl."

This Joel gave you a small smile before it twisted and Dom Joel returned. "Oh, you are, Honey. Why don't you drop to your knees for me?" He didn't have to ask twice. His hand came up to cup your chin. His thumb brushed across your lips. "Such a pretty mouth. Why don't you put it to good use for me?" Your eyes flitted to the hard outline in his jeans. "Gone on. Help yourself."

Taking a deep breath to keep yourself together, you got to work on his belt and fly. Pushing his jeans out of the way, the back of your fingers grazed his length stretching his marled grey boxer briefs. The sigh that came from his lips was something you would keep with you for years to come. Literally. The world felt so out of your control at the minute, everything was out of your hands no matter how many lists or plans or vision boards you made. Right now though, as your hands slipped into Joel's underwear to pull out his heavy girth while his breath hitched in his chest, you felt pretty damn in control.

Starting at his balls you licked a strip right the way up his entire length. He tasted a little musky but there was a cleanness there. His skin smelled faintly like his soap. The tip was salty and tangy due to the pre cum there. It was truly intoxicating. His body wanted you. It was getting ready to slip inside yours. You lapped at his slit for more. Joel's hands had been retrained at his sides, once you wrapped your lips around the head, all bets were off. Both of them buried in your hair. "Jesus. Such a good little whore."

The praise had you squirming at the leak between your legs. "You're treating me so well. Maybe I should do something for you. Remember when you nearly choked on Dave's dick?"

Your throat tightened at the memory, Joel felt it. "Ssshh. It's okay, Darlin'. We'll take it easy." One of his hands held the back of your neck while the other softly brushed your hair back. "Just breathe." Gripping the base of his cock he fed it forward. Each vein rippled over your stretched lips. The weight of his hard length on your tongue made you want to suck. Joel groaned and rolled his hips for a moment. "Naughty girl. Trying to distract me. Now you have to take it deeper. Give me your hand." He peeled your hand off his thigh and made a fist with it. "Now, squeeze it, and press your thumb here. Keep breathing through your nose. Nice and slow. There you go. Oh, shit."

The blunt head of his cock pushed at the back of your tongue kicking in your gag reflex. Concentrating on your fist and breathing slowly you were able to fight it off. Until Joel pushed just a little too far. That time you gagged and coughed around his cock. A line of spit connected your lips to the head when Joel pulled out. "Good girl. You did so well." He soothes as you still spluttered. "You're going to have to do better though." He pulled you up by your hair to push his cock past your lips. The roughness of him made you weak for him. In that moment you would have given him anything. It's freeing to feel like you can completely hand yourself over to him. It's the same with Dave. You trust both of them not to hurt you, even in an effort to keep up their illusion of complete control. He was able to thrust a few times, taking you to the edge of your comfort zone before you gagged again. Once you composed yourself, he held his mouth watering length in front of you. "Do you want more, Baby?"

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you nodded up at him. "Oh, my good girl. You'll get more."

With an ease born from his strength, Joel swept you up into his arms. Laying you on the sofa he slowly undid the buttons of your dress and pushed it off you. His fingers slid under the lace of your bar to push it up.Once your breasts were exposed to him he set about licking, kissing, sucking, caressing every inch as if he was committing them to memory. Maybe he was, you brushed the thought away and gave yourself back over to his touch.

"You're so fucking beautiful. You know that? Truly beautiful. Never let anyone tell you any different." His tone told you the other Joel was back.

This Joel stripped naked before laying a blanket on the sofa and sitting down. "Here, Honey." He pulled you over to straddle his lap. "You can have all the cock you want but I want you to take it. I want you to ride me. Here." Reaching over to his jeans, strewn over the sofa arm, he fished something from the pocket.

"A condom?" For a moment your heart sank. Had he been with someone else?

"I want you to show me you know how to use one of these. Then I want you to show me you know how to take what you need. Well?"

You could do this. You'd practised on cucumbers and watched videos. Hold his cock at the bottom. Make sure the condom is the right way. Pinch the tip to keep the air out, put it on like a little hat then roll it down. Joel's cock wasn't anything like a cucumber. The cucumber didn't make you wet as you slid your hand down it. Fuck, who said putting condoms on ruins the mood.

"Was that the first time you've done that?" Joel raised an eyebrow.

"On a penis, yes. I have some practice with cucumbers." Both Joel's eyebrows shot up. "Not like that!" You giggled. "Just practising putting the condom on."

"Well it paid off. Now you can slip me inside."

"How…?" God, you felt stupid for having to ask.

"Just guide it with your hand. Once the tip is lined up you can sink down onto it."

Taking him in your hand you got him in the general area then tried to sink down a little. It took a little manoeuvring to get him actually lined up thankfully your slick aided you in finding the right spot. He slid up along your body until he was notched at your entrance. Slowly you sank down on him until you were full.

"There we go. I'll never get tired of that. You fit me like a glove." His words stung your heart. He was talking as if you had a future. Like he would get the opportunity to see if he could get tired. "Time to move, Darlin'. Take what you want."

"Er..how. How do I…? I mean up and down or…?"

"Do what feels right for you. Just don't go too hard or high if you want to bounce on it. I don't want you to break nothin'. Try lifting up a little and just moving back and forth for now."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome." The shy smiles you exchanged seemed completely out of place while he was buried inside you.

Following Joel's advice you moved your hips back and forth. Each time his hard length tapped against the front wall of your pussy, just brushing shy of that perfect spot. For a while you just enjoyed the steady rhythm. Joel seems to too. He leaned back sighing, settling into the sofa at his back.

When your nerves get the better of you, you break the near silence. "Is that…? Does it feel good for you?"

"So good, Sweetheart. You always do. Is it good for you?"

"It doesn't quite feel like when you do it." The tiny voice that leaves you doesn't say 'grown woman off to college'.

Joel smiles "I'll take that as a compliment. Try bouncing up and down a little or circling your hips."

Bouncing sounds like the closest to when they drive into you so you gave it a go. Rising up, you dropped back down on him. "Oh, Joel!"

"There you go. Right there, huh?"

You rose up to drop down on him again, and again. "Fuck. Joel!"

The head of his cock was hitting that spot just right. The both of you could feel your orgasm approaching. "That's it, Baby. You look gorgeous like this."

Joel's praise and your release within reach made you speed up only for Joel's length to slip out from you. "Shit. Sorry."

"It's okay. It happens. Keep going." Slipping him back in was even easier this time. Your body drew him in deep. A few rounds of your hips and you got back into the rhythm. Soon Joel started to groan more. The vibration of it was under your palms as you pushed off his chest. His head rolled back on the sofa, exposing that beautiful neck. The warm low light from the lamp caused the sheen of sweat on his skin to glisten. He really was the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

"Fuck, Beautiful. You're going to make me come. Would you like that? Me, filling this condom up because you ride me..ugh…so fucking well?" His voice was strained. He was so close and it was all down to you.

"Joel. I'm gonna…" A silent scream left you as your whole body lit up from where you were joined.

With your tight cunt milking him Joel couldn't hold out any longer. "Oh. Shit. Shit. Oh. Take it, Baby. Take it." He moaned through his release.

Part of you missed him filling you, claiming you. One look at his face showed that you had claimed him this time. He looked at you, those big brown eyes filled with something you didn't want to think about. Years later you would accept it as love.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "You know how to deal with the condom when you get up?"

"I think so." Reaching down you held the condom in place as you lifted off his softening length.

"Good girl." He took over, pulling off the condom before tying it off and placing it in the discarded wrapper. "I'm going to put it in Dave's mailbox."

"You wouldn't." You laughed curling into his side.

"I have to admit. I am a little jealous." The look on his face made him look boyish.

"Don't be. He's not the one I'm thinking of staying for." Your nerve failed you and you turned away from him.

His finger was curled under your chin and bringing you back instantly. "Sweetheart, I…"

"I know. It's a stupid idea. I can't base my future on this. It's a nice fantasy though." You offered him a smile before kissing his palm.

"It is." A hand cupped the back of your head, curling you back into his side, holding you close. "You know, this doesn't have to end right here and now. You'll be back to visit your mom. If you haven't found anyone your age, I still think I have a few more lessons I can teach you."

A weight lifted from your chest. "I could be up for that."

Little did you both know that that would be the last time you would ever set foot in that house.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x you #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller #dave york #dave york au

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rosewaterconley · 8 months

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I solved a mystery that only I care about lol

ok so I have no clue what I'm doing and social media terrifies me. I will probably never touch this account again. why did I have to follow 3 algorithm-selected accounts to get into this website? I can actually name 3 people I'd want to follow on here and it's none of the people your fucking robot told me to follow. but hey, I feel like I have to post it here rather than my blogspot since nobody in the world actually uses blogspot and I want people to see this!

so anyway, there's this band out of the city of Milwaukee called Hero of a Hundred Fights. they dropped a couple CDs in the early 2000s and seem to have broken up, though all their members have been in bands since. that'll be important a little later. for now, Hero of a Hundred Fights are important to me on 2 levels:

I'm a Wisconsinite who has a tiny bit of an obsession with local history and art and really fuck with their weird mathy little corner of the 2000s hardcore scene

I'm a Faction Paradox fan and their 2001 EP The Remote, The Cold contains numerous references to the series! if you've heard of this EP before, it was probably in the context of some "music that references Faction Paradox" list or another

about #2... see, everyone already knows that track 2 is called Faction Paradox and track 3 is called The Celestis. we've all long since put together that the title is a reference to Lawrence Miles' Interference. but what about the lyrics? unfortunately, we don't know. they're not online, and the vocals are good, mind, but rather incoherent.

well, we didn't know. until I ordered a CD copy for like $8 lol. that's all it took! so here you go, the lyrics booklet plus some of the other artwork featured on the CD. artist Nick Slough did a great job on this art and it's a shame only the cover is widely available online (though that's hardly a problem unique to the physical version of this one album). turns out, this is some kinda concept album based on the Miles novel Interference. cool! really love the lyrics on Rope especially. "I need your blood to get this vessel running" and "my life was in your hands, I cut them off and now they're mine" are both raw as hell.

the cover art is pretty interesting. this album was recorded in 2000, released in 2001. the entire creative process occurred before the first standalone Faction Paradox release, The Book of the War. this means the album is entirely Doctor Who-based, not based on the FP series itself. it also means, if we assume the humanoid characters on the art are supposed to be the Remote, that this is the first-ever professional art depicting them!

disclaimer: the booklet lyrics don't 100% match up with what's said in the songs! it's mostly accurate but unfortunately there are some sections missing, some repeated bits that are only written once et al. that's all par for the course but I figured I'd mention it - especially in the case anybody wants to use this to transcribe the lyrics on Genius or some other site like that.

and while we're here, Hero 100 member William Zientara has been in a billion different bands, and I think he's probably the most responsible for the Doctor Who theme on this album. See, he was also in a short-lived band called Managara - named after a Doctor Who tie-in novel so obscure even I, owner of a complete set of Virgin New Adventures who spends my work breaks combing through digital copies of old fanzines, have only ever heard it discussed a handful of times. one of their songs is called Happiness Patrol. more recently, in 2021, he was in the band Fuiguirnet, who have a song called What Grows From the Seeds of Doom! which means Zientara has been randomly tossing Doctor Who references into songs from at least three different bands for twenty years!

so uhh without any further rambling here's the lyrics and art:

#faction paradox #hero of a hundred fights #music

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foogriffy · 4 months

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hello my lovely followers! i don't talk much here, usually if i have thoughts i post them on my other blog, @is-this-yuri. if you followed me from there, you probably know my situation, but i figured i'd make another post here about it since i'm not sure what the overlap in my followers is.

i'm currently living in my car and in need of some support. i'm on the way to getting disability benefits, but other than that i have no hope of getting an income. it's finally going to be getting cold and snowy next week, and i'll need as much gas as i can get to keep myself warm. i'll pretty much be running my car any time i'm not sleeping or spending time in local gas stations and libraries. i also need to keep moving so i don't get towed, so running out of gas is a big problem for me.

my dad has been able to help me for years, but he's all dried up now and can't do anything for me other than keeping my phone service on.

so, i've set up a ko-fi where i've already gotten some very generous donations, but i'm posting it here too. anything will help me. 5 dollars will run my car for one day, and i need to get through the rest of winter. please consider tossing me something if you have the means, or reblog and spread this post so i can get some help

#homeless #homelessness

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frau-kali · 6 months

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On Self Awareness and Cognitive Dissonance

So @jaynovz made this really interesting and excellent post about Silver's crazy decision to go to Charlestown at the end of S2. I thought I'd toss out my two cents as to why he might have done it. And also discuss some related stuff. Buckle up, folks!

So first, let's begin with THE SCENE:

Silver: I've had my fill of adapting lately, doing your bidding, keeping the crew in line for you. Flint: I wasn't the only one who benefited from that. Silver: It certainly seemed that way.

Here Flint refers to Silver's position among the crew, which Flint sees as a benefit to both of them. As we see:

Flint: I need your help. They need your help. Silver: Oh please. Don't try to convince me to do it for the sake of their futures. Flint: For the sake of your own. Those men listen to you, they care about what you think, what you want them to think. Where else in the world is that true? Where else would you wake up in the morning and matter?

I could talk endlessly about this whole scene, particularly about Silver's incredibly amazing lie and how he acts during it and his bitterness toward Flint, but that's beyond the scope of this. Instead I wanna focus on self awareness.

With these few words, Flint basically drags Silver kicking and screaming to self awareness land. He is suddenly exposed to the fact that he actually means something here. And by his reaction, I think it's fair to assume this is one the few times, if not perhaps the first time, he's been in a position like this. Based on his past actions and his desire to remain anonymous (see refusing to show his face during the schedule thing, it’s safer to be anonymous), I think his previous modus operandi has been to position himself behind some powerful figure and work in the background to help them achieve their shared goals of getting lots of money. Said people were also probably not as smart as him so he could easily manipulate them as well. We see him do this with Flint a bunch, too, working in the background to help him. And that's what his position on the Walrus crew starts out as.

But then he becomes the centre of attention. They start to like him, which he didn't even necessarily expect when he started his gossip monger plan, he just wanted them to need him, despite his proclaiming that he’s a hard man not to like. But no, they get attached to him. And he, unbeknownst to himself, becomes attached right back.

Now, it's entirely possible that he's been in similar situations in the past just like this one, but because he is very good at repression and lying to himself, he was able to walk away without any real trouble. Maybe he realized afterwards that he actually liked those people but it didn't matter because he'd already left and he tells himself it’s for the best anyway. Silver is likely carrying around some heavy trauma related to emotional attachments to other people, given how he tells Muldoon that “we’ll take care of you” is the most terrifying part of everything that’s happened after losing his leg. And, considering everything else, that sure is saying something.

But here, he has hitched his wagon to James Flint, a man after his own heart. Flint is a lot like Silver, a brilliant liar and excellent manipulator, able to bend people to his will and look damn good while doing it.

Then he does it to Silver, too. And it's all while Silver is in the middle of pulling off his own master class in lying, some of his best work, by being outraged and angry that the gold he actually stole is gone and trying to extricate himself from Flint and the crew. Except Flint won't let him.

Flint's request for Silver's help doesn't, I don't think, extend merely to the lovely speech Silver gives to swing the vote in his favour, either. During the voyage to Charlestown, Silver continues working to convince the men of the dangers that lie ahead, presumably at Flint's behest. Scott does indicate to Billy that Silver is using his storytelling powers to “help the captain” when Silver is addressing the crew.

So Silver stays because he has come to value his position on the crew. However he doesn't yet realize how attached to them he's actually become. Jay is right, he could’ve easily deserted after the vote, run off to hide somewhere until Flint is gone, but he doesn’t. And he's still lying to himself about why. He thinks “yeah ok, Flint, you won this round. I'll stay and go on the voyage so as not to arouse suspicion from you and everyone else, and I’ll take the scouts along because I don’t trust them not to fuck this up, but I am leaving after that.” The real reason he stays is because he values his position, he actually likes that he matters, but he is still convinced he’s going to leave because he also wants the money. I think he probably would’ve left, too, but he’s trying not to think too hard about the newly exposed self awareness and continuously telling himself he doesn’t need this and he sure as fuck doesn’t actually care about these people, even as he stays. It’s like he’s torn between how he wants to be and how he actually is and he cannot bring himself to go no matter how much he wants to.

That’s also not even going into how, during the voyage, he is exposed to how much power he actually has over the men on the crew when he gives the scout a fucking look and said scout kills their co-conspirator because of it. And then that same scout tells Silver that all the men know he cares about their best interests and Silver is just fucking taken aback by the level of regard these people have for him. This is on display again when they all stand up in his defence after Vane’s men come to grab him.

When Vane’s men attack the ship, Silver could swim to shore with the remaining scout and if they kept their heads down, they'd probably be ok. They could likely swim far enough away to not get caught, especially at night. Silver surely knows this, too.

Instead, he cuts the forestay and saves the crew. And then he refuses to give up a list of names, once again saving the crew. He has, against all his own cognitive dissonance, become attached to them enough that he endures torture and risks death for them. Now, I don’t think that he ever thought that he would lose his leg, I don’t think that he made space in his mind for the possibility of being tortured either, he knew that one of the men had grabbed the keys during the scuffle when they took him away and he thought that he could stall long enough until they broke in and saved him because he’s good at talking his way out of trouble. I also have to say that it is such a nice moment when he says this to Vane’s man: “The question you should be asking yourself is, where are his keys and has he seen them since he took me away from my men?” They are his men now, his brothers, whereas before he always set himself apart from them.

And it's all because Flint made him see that he valued his position enough to stay and go on the journey to Charlestown in the first place. Silver even gives Flint credit for this in 305 - “Such a waste, it seems to me, knowing that it doesn't have to be this way. That the man who talked me into giving a shit about this crew, he could talk those people out there into anything. If he wanted to.”

Or that’s how I read it anyway. The way Silver’s attachment to the Walrus crew is developed over the course of season 2 and the final culmination of him refusing to betray them is one of my favourite things about his story and I have a lot of feelings about it. I could be wrong in my interpretation, of course, but thank you all for coming to my Ted Talk :)

#black sails #john silver #silverflint #black sails meta #i've never written meta before #i just have a lot of feelings about this #and about silver in general #so i wanted to share #i could just be coping with this headcanon to paper over something that doesn't make sense (silver refusing to leave)#but it makes sense to me #who knows tho #shrug emoji

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not-a-space-alien · 7 months

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K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 3

Part three of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings: Some dehumanization and references to abuse

In this chapter: Mutual emotional support

***

Valen thanks the store employee for their help one more time before running out, making his way back to his apartment quickly.

Jim is glad he doesn't have to deal with Valen's frankly terrifying driving on top of all this. And honestly, he kind of likes being carried when it's by someone he doesn't have to be afraid of. He rests against Valen's chest as they make their way back, trying to calm down.

He's steadier on his feet this time when he's set on the floor. "Guess I'll get started on my food, and... still the border after?" he asks tentatively.

"Of course, dear Jim. Or, if you prefer, we can rest here until morning and leave during the day, when we won't run into anyone else."

Jim has mixed feelings about the offer. On one hand, he wants to get home as soon as possible. But on the other, going out at night again sounds terrifying. But... "Would that be okay for you? You'll still be able to see, and won't get burned and stuff? I mean, you were fine earlier, I guess." He considers. "If you think it's safer. You’d know, I guess.”

"I do think it might be safer to hunker down here until dayfall. Perhaps I can just let you drive the car, since I won't be able to see well."

“Sounds good,” Jim agrees. “What can I use to cook this stuff?"

Valen sheepishly offers his very small kitchen for Jim to use. He has no stove–he hadn't made sure to get one that had such a fixture, not having any use for it–but he does have a microwave, and he does offer to let Jim use a Bunsen burner if he really wants open flame.

The image of using a bunsen burner to cook a meal is exactly what Jim needed to ease the tension after their encounter. “I think I’ll pass,” he decides. He’ll make do as best he can with the microwave.

Valen watches Jim prepare his food with fascination. He points to one of the apples. "Would it be all right with you if I tried some of this? I'm curious."

Jim grabs the knife he’s used to open his can of beans and slices off a bit of apple. "Knock yourself out." He tosses the piece to Valen, munching on the rest of it as he tries to figure out how to prepare the rest of his food.

Valen tentatively nibbles on the apple slice. It tastes a bit like eating dirt. He immediately spits it back out. "Oh...oh my. I do think you can have the rest of this. Consider my curiosity officially sated."

Jim chuckles. "Yeah, bet I'd be the same if I tried blood."

He eats his meal. It's kind of shitty by regular standards, especially compared to the exquisite things he'd been preparing for himself at Kane's, but after more than 2 days without food, it tastes incredible. He devours it ravenously. "This is so good. Thanks for the shopping. Sorry I can't pay you back or anything. I mean, if there's anything you need done before it's time to go, I can help around? Not like I've got any appointments to make."

Valen laughs. "You needn't worry about it or trouble yourself. I don't have to work a job, so I have nothing better to do than whatever suits my fancy."

The phone rings. "I wonder if that's your sister." He picks it up. "Hello?"

By the look on Valen's face, Jim can tell it isn't Liz. Valen’s face crumples. "Oh, hello. Yes, I understand. Yes." He does not speak much, just sitting there looking more and more morose, face getting darker and darker, occasionally interjecting a "Yes, sir," or "I'm sorry, sir." He's crying by the time he hangs up the phone.

Jim quickly grows concerned as Valen speaks. As soon as he hangs up, he approaches and grabs Valen's hand with a gentle squeeze. "Hey, what's wrong? You okay?"

Valen wipes his eye on his sleeve. "Yes, I'm okay. Thank you. That was just–that was just my husband, who isn't pleased I 'made a scene in public.'"

Jim winces. He can gather this whole “husband” deal isn't a happy marriage to begin with: one of the first things Valen said to him was maybe I should go by my maiden name, after all. "I'm sorry. Your husband sounds like a dick. You deserve better," he tries to console.

Valen smiles. "Thank you. I know. It's why I live here, instead of with him. I've been trying to convince him to finally just divorce me, but it isn't really working." He kneads his hands. "He insisted I return you to your 'rightful owner,' because if word gets out about how I 'stole' you, he's concerned the rest of the nobility will get it in their heads that the Kithrara family is going to steal their humans as well and tarnish our lovely reputation." He wipes his other eye, sniffling. "I told him I would, but obviously I'm not actually going to. By the time he finds out I lied, you'll be over the border and out of harm's way. I don't think he knows my new address anyway. I'm not sure how he got my new phone number."

"Oh,” Jim says, suddenly terrified to his bones. "Are–are you sure we should wait until morning? Is waiting around here until then, um, s-safe?" He can't stop his voice from wavering, the idea of being dragged back to Kane implanting itself in his mind. "Thank you. For protecting me."

"Of course. I said I would let no harm come to you, and I meant it." He gives a heavy sigh. "If you would prefer not to wait, we can go now. That may be safer, given that word has somehow made it back to the Kithrara family already." He stands up and rifles through the closet for a water bottle. "Go ahead and pack whatever you'd like to take."

The only thing Jim has to his name is the last undevoured apple. He grabs it. "I'm good to go."

There's an insistent pounding at the door.

Jim's eyes go wide and he cowers against a wall at the sound. He looks to Valen, shaking his head, terrified. Whoever’s at the door, he doubts they’re here for anything good. Even if they are, they can’t see him, not when he’s stolen property.

Valen silently comes over and grabs Jim's arm, wordlessly dragging him into the bedroom and shoving him into the closet, under all his clothes amidst his boots, and pulls the closet shut. He quickly bundles up any signs that Jim was here and tosses them into the bedroom, then shuts the bedroom door.

He smooths his hair down, straightens his shirt, forces his gait to slow down, and approaches the door, cracking it open slightly. "Hello? Who's there?"

Who's there is a very pissed-off Kane de Sang, the first one Anton told. "Kane de Sang. You have my human," he announces with a glare.

Valen creeps slightly more behind the door. "I'm afraid I don't anymore. I took him straight to the border after your brother saw us. He's long gone."

"What? You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Kane shouts. "This is great. Just fucking great. You couldn't have tried your hippie bullshit on someone else's human? Your husband has thousands of them!"

"I apologize, Mr. de Sang, sir," says Valen. "But seeing as how we have no more business to discuss, I'll take my leave. Goodbye." He shuts the door right in Kane's face, praying that Kane will just take him at face value and leave.

Kane screams in fury, kicks the wall of Valen's apartment hard enough to leave a dent, and storms off. He knows that harassing a fellow noble, especially when Valen doesn't have his human anymore, won't get him any points with his family.

When Valen comes back for Jim, he's curled up in a little ball under a pile of clothes, shaking and crying.

"Sh," Valen says, taking his hand, crouching and offering him a tissue. "You're okay. He's gone."

Jim wipes his face with the tissue, gripping Valen's hand tight. "He was m-mad." he blubbers. "Never good. Always hurts when he's mad."

Vales smiles, gently stroking Jim's hair. "He can go be directionlessly mad out in public if he wants to. You're not at the whim of his moods anymore. He's already taken it out on the hallway wall, which I'm sure takes a beating much better than you do. I'll be informing the landlord who exactly it was who caused the damage. I'm sure he'll love getting a bill for repairs."

Jim shudders under Valen’s touch at the thought of Kane getting even angrier. "Haven't even gotten a full-on beating in like, a year. Used to get 'em all the time, but I've been good lately. Up until all this." He takes a deep, shaky breath. He likes the feeling of Valen petting his hair, not pulling violently like Kane does. "Your husband's got thousands of humans?"

Valen's face falls. "Ah...you heard that." He withdraws his hands.

"Kinda hard not to, he was yellin' so loud. Only heard his part."

"Are you sure you want me to tell you about it? I think it would upset you."

Jim hesitates. "Maybe not, then." It’s not like knowing would change anything.

"Rest assured I want no part of my husband's horrid business. Well, I convinced Kane I already dropped you off at the border. If he'd stopped to think instead of just getting angry at the drop of a hat, he probably would have realized I likely wouldn't have had time to get all the way to the border and back in the time since Anton saw us at the store, haha... Well, do you still want to leave right away, or wait till daybreak?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I'm scared." Jim starts crying again. "M-maybe now? Unless you think it's not safe?"

Still kneeling on the floor, Valen pulls him close, hugging him. "Sh, sh, it's all right. It's all right to be scared, but you're safe. Tell you what." Valen crawls into the closet beside him, his jackets brushing against his head, and pulls the door shut. "I'll sit with you right here until you calm down, how's that sound?"

"Heh. Back in the closet for both of us, I guess," Jim jokes through his tears, resting his head on Valen's shoulder. "Just, I've just never been this close before. Only got 10 minutes out the first time, didn't even get out the back gate the second time. I've only got this one shot. I'm so scared of fucking it up and spending the rest of my life as his damn chewtoy."

Valen savors the feeling of Jim's head on his shoulder, letting the comment about in the closet sink in. After a moment, he gently strokes Jim's closest hand. "You're not going to fuck it up. I'll physically fight him off if I have to. You're going to get out of here if I have anything to say about it. My conscience wouldn't let me live with it if I let that happen to you. Everyone deserves to feel safe."

"Thank you. You're the best, Valen. Literally, meeting you is the best thing that's ever happened to me." Jim keeps taking deep breaths until they start to come out less shaky.

Valen keeps his hand steady on Jim's until he seems a bit calmer. "There. Now would you like to talk about when we'll be leaving? I think it should be safe to either stay here or leave right away, but if we wait till sunrise, we know for sure he won't be lurking around."

"Let's wait," Jim agrees. "Better to not take chances and all. Thanks for helping me calm down and stuff."

"You're very welcome. Well, we have a few hours, then. Would you like to watch a movie or something?"

"Yeah. I really, really would."

***

Tag list:

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@hurtpluscomfort

@jakersdaboss

@lolrpop

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@pigeonwhumps

@secretwhumplair

@some-thrilling-heroics

@t0rture-me

@thecyrulik

@thejinglingcourtjester

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-my-heart-away

@whumpycries

@wolfeyedwitch

@whump-addict

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

#whump #K+J #angst #whumpblr #hurt/comfort

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