#RELUCTANT fic of mine i may add

[brucewaynehater101]

Apologies if I'm remembering wrong but I recall you posting/reblogging a post of Tim being afraid for Damian after he became Robin, thinking Red Hood would redirect his ire to him

Let's expand on that, Damian finding out about all the horrible shit Tim went through and put himself through and beginning to dread being Robin more and more but not wanting to take it back because he doesn't want to add onto Tim's pain

((and also because giving up robin would make him look week, but that's just an excuse))

So Damian is wrecked with anxiety because when is the hammer gonna drop and he'll receive what Tim did?

And if Tim's inheritance is going to be his, that means inheriting all the labor he is endures when running Wayne Enterprises, and etc

And Damian—wrong as he is—thinking himself selfish for hoping Tim stays in the family just so the day he inherits his duties comes later

Damian bonding with Tim over pain the latter experienced and the former is certain he will as well

((and also imagine what will go through Damian's head if he were to find out Tim doesn't even consider himself an actual Wayne member and just a Placeholder to keep the family from crumbling to pieces like that other post, a Placeholder until Jason and Damian came))

((and suddenly his assassination attempts seem like all for nothing and even self-sabotage, woof))

Hello! It seems that there are two of my posts you're referring to here (which is super super cool). This is going to be a long post cause it inspired me to really look at their dynamic and explore it.

One post talks about how Tim became Red Robin and didn't choose another mantle. There's a few reasons for this (like not being able to step down from his role of helping Bruce), but the reason you're referring to is another theory of mine. Tim may be Red Robin to share the burden and pain being Robin entails. He doesn't want Damian to face it alone. By being Red Robin, he can shoulder some of the ire from Batman.

The other post has Tim, who signed himself up to being Jason's placeholder both in an out of the mask, seeing himself as worthless and temporary. Both of his roles, being Jason and being Robin, got filled by Jason and Damian later.

Now that we've got the background, I absolutely love your take on this. I will add a few fics that expand on this view, but I do want to talk about it more first.

Unfortunately, Damian is used to a lot of abuse before coming to live with the Waynes (I love good mom Talia, but training to be an assassin is still abuse. She could have good reasons, but it still hurt Damian). He probably felt that he needed to earn his place and fulfill his familial role as Robin. Even as he matures and heals a bit, he may be reluctant to let Robin go. That type of training and enforced dedication to family is not simple to let go (even from a purely emotional abuse standpoint without any of the physical abuse he likely endured [This can be another thing he shares with Tim and his reluctantance to let Red Robin go]).

Kids, like Damian, will see others in similar situations and try to avoid their fate.

What is more likely? Tim is just special in being a target of isolation and abuse, or that Damian could one day be treated the same?

There's a ton of interesting theories about roles within abusive families (my family was emotionally abusive fyi). The sad part is that some of the kids will follow the example of their parents and abuse their siblings. This is both because parents model behavior and as a survival technique to not become the scapegoat like that one sibling. Damian may have joined in on being verbally abusive for both of these reasons (as well as being an extremely traumatized kid lashing out).

As he grows older and gains perspective (as well as distance from his LoA days), he may reflect on his behavior and the treatment of Tim. Tim is also the closest in age to Damian. He might be around physically more than the other siblings (besides Duke). Perhaps Duke even points out the differential treatment. There's a lot of ways that the metaphorical ball could get rolling.

This could be where Damian starts to regret his actions toward Tim. It may start from a selfish place (which, survival is not selfish and being selfish isn't always bad) of Damian realizing the assassination attempts are self-sabotage (and I love this idea and reflection on Damian). This would then morph into a genuine relationship and reliance on Tim.

I imagine, with these circumstances, that Tim becomes an anchor and safe point for Damian. All of the siblings have varying effects on the others, but this would be separate from that. While Dick is Damian's harbor, Tim would be closer to a lighthouse protecting Damian from the rocky shoreline. Dick is a place to rest and heal. Tim is a warning and guide (feel free to reblog with how the other batkids would be with Damian or each other).

Continually, Damian wanting Tim to stick around the family for his own safety hurts like hell. This casts the older sibling guilt (of leaving your siblings behind in that damn house) in a younger sibling's shame. Depending on the age, the younger sibling might be angry the older left or ashamed they want to ask in the first place. As a middle child, that fucking hurts (my situation is a bit more nuanced than that, but fuck. Ow).

Anyways, tons of angst to explore there on both of their parts.

I sincerely hope that Damian gets a life outside of WE. I hope he at least has time to explore himself (and maybe get a different career) before ever taking up WE. Depending on Tim's role in WE, this may fuck him over. I would be down to read some fics that explore Tim struggling under WE (cause he was meant for the research labs and not meeting rooms) and his refusal to step down due to the pressure that would put on Damian's shoulders (I know Tim isn't actually CEO in canon, but it's good to explore how the expectation of taking up the family business affects sibling dynamics).

Fic rec time! All are on AO3

"Exit Strategy" by smilebackwards (Tim's plan to leave the Waynes creates the ability for Damian and Tim to bond [not that Damian knows this is the plan]. Hurt ensues).

"Taming a Baby Assassin" by nighttmr (Tim, after being notified that he's getting a younger sibling with Damian, decides he'll be a big brother regardless of the effort required).

"Some Common Ground" by Do_wa_diddy (Both Damian and Tim are used to cruel standards of training. The others do not understand this and try to limit how they train. This causes Tim and Damian to bond).

"Just Like the Movies" by faithms (Damian finds a flash drive of all the times Bruce has been horrible to Tim).

"The Study of Birds" by MaskoftheRay (Tim and Damian find a common interest in bird watching. It shows them slowly becoming closer despite the obstacles).

Last one:

"You'll Change Your Name or Change Your Mind (previous title: Tim Drake Learns to Set Boundaries)" series by samsamiam.

I wholeheartedly recommend this series. Basically, Tim sets boundaries for himself while offering Damian sanctuary (should the kid need). It becomes Tim protecting Damian even from Bruce. Very very very good.

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard @dangerpronebuddie @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz 💖

I'm jumping between wips and ships so much rn, but trust me, it's even more chaotic in my brain like at all times lol it's so annoying

wasn't gonna post today but I figured I'd share a bit of the cheating fic bc I moved my self-imposed deadline to middle of may and istg I'm not moving it again so I need motivation to finish this lmao

(this scene is fighting me ngl, but I need it, and it's just gonna need a lot of editing but for now this is just a rough draft lol)

prev snippet

___

Not breaking the kiss, Eddie shifts, throwing his leg over Buck’s lap, straddling him, and Buck’s hands immediately wrap around his hips, bringing him closer, as close as possible, just needing Eddie closer. Eddie gasps when their crotches collide, and breaks the kiss, Buck’s lips moving to Eddie’s neck.

“Buck.” Eddie whispers. “Buck, we- we should talk.” Eddie tries, but one of his hands is tangled in Buk’s hair, holding on tight. Buck stills his movements, looks up at Eddie and sees reluctance in his face. He’s not sure if it’s reluctance to stop or continue, and he needs to know for sure, would never want Eddie to feel pressured in any way. They have no alcohol to blame this time, after all.

“If you want to, let’s stop, and we can talk.” Buck says, voice a little shaky as he adds, “But we can always talk tomorrow?”, knowing this is a very bad decision, once again. He’s looking at Eddie’s face and sees something complicated, a conflict, a battle with himself. His eyes roam over Buck’s face, lingering on his eyes, then lips, then back to eyes. In the end, some part of Eddie wins, or loses, and he captures Buck’s lips with his own again.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck

@loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff

@spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus

@giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon

@911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie

@diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

[ashtonlc3]

Severitus/Sevitus Fic Rec

Thought I’d share my own personal fic list that I’ve complied over time featuring Snape and Harry developing some kind of father-son relationship, all the way through either bio-dad, adoption, guardian or mentorship. All of these fics are COMPLETE because after OME leaving me on the world’s biggest cliff hanger and losing the fic for many months because I’m an idiot, I have serious WIP trust issues. They’re also usually really long because I love angsty, slow-burn fics.

I started taking in-depth notes while I read through fics a while ago so that I would NEVER lose a favourite fic again (the title of one of my favs is in Latin, so I never remember what it’s called). And also because I have a terrible memory so remembering what happened in each fic is quite difficult for me. Assuming I know how to count there should be over 16 fics listed here.

I’ve also rated each fic out of 10 and added a couple of notes for each fic (I didn’t add any with a rating of 5 or lower cause these are meant to be recommendations not a reading log). I’ve put them in order of how much I liked them, 10 and 9s being my equivalent to an Outstanding, 8 and 7 an Exceeds Expectations and a 6 an Acceptable.

TW: As is usually the case with Severitus fics, ALL of these fics have some degree of child abuse in them, courtesy of the Dursleys (I mean it’s literally canon). The severity and type of abuse varies greatly across fics. Fics with highly graphic depictions of physical abuse will have an additional TW. (Also if I miss any TWs for fics feel free to let me know I’d be more than happy to add them).

< 70K

In Care Of By Fang’s Fawn 

Rating: 10/10 Word Count: 47K+

This fic is a MUST read for new and hardcore severitus fans alike. The characterisation is perfect, the plot is believable, the pacing is great, the writing quality is good and it's incredibly angsty.

TW graphic depictions of physical abuse

> 70K

O Mine Enemy By Kirby Lane

Rating: 10/10 Word Count: 373K+

You’ve probably already read this one because it is legendary in the Severitus genre and a staple for any fic list. In the event that you haven’t, you SHOULD read it ASAP. Starts summer of sixth year. 

TW addiction/substance abuse

Victus per Reproba Monumentum By firefly5151

Rating: 9/10  Word Count: 292K+ 

For a long time I didn’t read anything that had Sev as Harry’s bio dad, it felt implausible, OOC and just was not as good as the guardian/mentor trope. That is until I read this fic, and now the bio-dad trope is my favourite. This fic is the Snape of Severitus, there are a LOT of flaws but I love it anyway. The plot is a bit questionable, it has manipulativeDumbledore (which I don’t like in fics) and Ron and Hermione pretty much forget Harry exists. BUT the emotional journey is amazing, and really angsty. Starts during summer of 6th year.

The Subterfuge By Murai-Sakura

Rating: 9/10  Word Count: 304K+

This fic is on the newer side having been written in 2020. My first time reading this fic I had a few mixed feelings about it which made me reluctant to read it again despite really liking it. Reading it again for the second time I can’t understand what past Ash’s problem was because it was magnificent. Granted I remember it being darker than it actually is (it may have been due to me reading The Hunger Games in-between, who knows). I’m rambling, in short I think I liked this one a little more than A Year Like None Other. The plot is unique enough that the story doesn’t feel like your reading a rehash of every Severitus fic ever while still hitting the emotional points necessary for a satisfying fic. It’s definitely more mentor than father figure and is set during fifth year so watch out for Umbridge.

TW suicide attempt and graphic child abuse 

A Year Like None Other By aspeninthesunlight

Rating: 9/10  Word Count: 789K+

Another classic whose reputation speaks for its-self, written before HBP came out and is also insanely long. I’ve actually never read the sequals either because one was enough for me and it’s in Draco’s pov. It also has the added bonus of brother bonding between Draco and Harry. Set during 6th year. 

TW self harm and graphic torture

Perception is Everything By Kendra James

Rating: 8/10  Word Count: 165K+

This was one of the first few Severitus fics I ever read so it has a very special place in my heart despite the plot being a very standard Severitus setup. Set Christmas 6th year, Snape finds out about the Dursleys abuse when Harry gets sick over Christmas break.

You've forgotten who I am By CastlePheonix

Rating: 8/10  Word Count: 114K+

I’ve only read this one once so I’m taking past Ash’s word for it. Set during 5th year, a what if Snape actually hit Harry with the jar after the Pensieve incident. Harry gets temporary amnesia and spends some time in Spinner’s End with Snape. 

TW addiction/substance abuse

Whelp & Whelp II - The Wrath of Snape By jharad17

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 75K+ & 80K+

The standard run down; the Dursleys are dicks, Sev finds out. This is pre-Hogwarts (7 years old) so you know Harry is going to be adorable and clingly. Vernon has Harry tied up in the yard like a dog.

Namesake Necklace By WiCeBa

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 121K+

This fic is a little more recent I think. Set summer before the start of 5th year, Harry and Dudley are de-aged. This ones quite the adventure and Sirius is still alive so you know there’s gonna be a fight over Harry.

What I Must Ask You To Do By VeraRose19

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 261K+

Set at the end of GOF and continues into 7th year. This story is not just a Severitus but also an exploration of the blossoming friendship and eventual  romance (the Sirius Black/Severus Snape is very minor and DOESN’T have any NSFW content, they don’t even kiss in the fic) between Severus and Sirius as they co-parent Harry together. The story is far fluffier than it is angsty and relies quite heavily on canon for plot whilst also taking out the adventure and death toll. It’s more a fluffy, canon, best case scenario than an angsty, slow-burn fic.

Emerald eyes By JadeSullivan

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 120K+

I cannot remember this one at all so once again I’m taking past Ash’s word for it. This is set during 2nd year and does feature corporal punishment.

Prisoners By Whitetail

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 119K+

Harry is de-aged to 4 and Sev has partial paralysis. So they stay at a little cottage by the sea. Hermione features quite heavily in this one, both her and Harry end up with Sev gaining guardianship of them.

To Recollect the Future By oliversnape

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 71K+

When Harry is hit with the killing curse in DH Harry and Sev are sent back to first yeah. Harry and Sev pretty much spend the whole fic Horcrux hunting, its a fun bonding experience.

In plain sight & Close to the Chest By waitingondaisies

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 93K+ & 37K+

This is always a fun one. Set during 6th year, Sev found out as a spy so Albus turns him into a 16 year old Gryffindor and gives him an embarrassing name. Seriously Albus, Alfonse “Eli” Hopkirk, really? 

Time Left Today By gzdacz

Rating: 7/10  Word Count: 84K+

Sev and Harry are on the run after Quirrell is killed by an 11 year old. The road trip is quite fun although I don’t really like the ending too much though.

The Trouble with Polyjuice By LilyEvansDouble 6/10

Rating: 6/10  Word Count: 120K+

2nd year. Features Snape as Harry’s biological father after the Polyjuice incident.

Summer of Bonding By Magica Draconia 6/10

Rating: 6/10  Word Count: 76K+

This one is set after PS as the Dursley never pick Harry up from Kings Cross so Harry stays with Snape. Snape collects horse figurines in this one and is very heavily featured in this story. So its a bit too niche for my liking but otherwise still a good read.

And that’s all I got. I’ll probably come back to this list (yeah cause I forgot to put in tags) and add more fics as I read them. (When I add new fics I’ll reblog this post with a change log so you don't need to read through the list again to figure out what’s been changed.) My TBR is usually just as long so ... to forever be continued.

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 4

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive**Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: this is the first time we see the future after Takara's arrival... I loved writing this whole chapter and I hope you enjoy reading it. Please tell me all your thoughts (especially theories on how we got to this future).

also on ao3

fic masterlist -prev chapter

“What are you wearing?” 

She glances over at Akkun who stares at Takemichi like he’s embarrassing to be near. “He’s got a point.”

“What?” Takemichi looks at her in shock. “What do you know? You don’t even have a fashion sense!”

Her mouth drops open. “Well, excuse me for wearing what’s comfortable!” 

“Comfortable? You stole that from our dad!”

“It’s a good shirt!” The shirt in question was a large button-down that she was wearing with leggings. She was sitting at the table, doing her homework for the week as Akkun came to pick up her brother. Apparently, they were going to visit Draken.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Takemichi asks for the third time. He’s been oddly insistent. He seemed guilty and reluctant to let her leave his sight since he discovered the bruise on her face. She figures it’s another item he’s trying to add to his list of things he thinks he’s responsible for. 

She waves him off. “They’re your friends, not mine.” 

“You don’t have any friends.” 

She fakes a gasp, holding a hand to her chest. “Aren’t you supposed to respect your elders?”

“Sure, when I see one.”

“I’m going to wipe that grin off your face. Come here!” She darts up and lunges toward him, determined to wreck his hairstyle. 

“No!” Takemichi runs from her, laughing hysterically as he tries to keep the table in between them. 

Akkun rolls his eyes. 

“I saw that!” She pointed at him. “You’ll be next.”

“I’ll be outside,” he tells Takemichi before running for it. Smart kid. 

Takemichi stops as soon as Akkun is gone and faces her. “Hey, I’ll uh…I’m going to go,” he tells her. “After I see Draken. I did what I wanted so the future should be good. Hina should be safe.” 

Takara pauses. “Oh. Right.” If she’s honest, she forgot about the whole time travelling thing. She forgot that the boy in front of her might change into someone she doesn’t recognize. She kind of hopes it doesn’t work. If he’s gone, then she’s going to be alone again. It’s only the him from the future who somehow knows who she is. 

“You sure you don’t want to come?” 

She presses her fingers together. An old nervous habit her mother drilled out of her when she was a kid. “It’s fine. You’ll see me in the future, right? Twelve years?”

“Yeah.” They both fall silent. “You should have more friends,” he finally says. “Who’s going to protect you when I’m…me?” He frowns at that, seemingly confused at the comparison.

“Who says I need someone to protect me?”

“You nearly got the shit kicked out of you a few days ago!” 

“They got one lucky shot. For three against one, that’s not bad.”

“Three?” His jaw drops and she instantly winces as she realizes what she said. “You said it was just one!”

“I may have…under-exaggerated.” 

“Takara!”

“What? It was fine. I’m fine.”

“This is why you need friends! To back you up with this!”

She rolls her eyes. “Will you stop worrying? We don’t even know if I’ll still be here when you go back to the future. Maybe I’ll just go home.”

He stops, staring at her as though the thought never crossed his mind. “Do you think you will?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Just look for me in the future. You’ll know then.” 

“Yeah, okay…” he nods, suddenly determined. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”

She smiles softly. “Okay. I’ll see you in the future.” He makes more promises, telling her to go make more friends or he’ll send Akkun and the others to drag her out of her seclusion before he finally leaves. Takara lets out a sigh. A couple more hours and she’ll find out if she’ll wake up back home. She looks at the work on the table before deciding to pack it up. There’s no point in doing it if she’s not around. 

🐈‍⬛

The future.

The first thing Takemichi does when he realizes he’s back working in that video store is check his phone. Naoto’s number isn’t there, but Takara’s is. He lets out a sigh of relief. Honestly, he wasn't sure if she’d be there, but he’s glad she is. Even though she’s a little crazy and anti-social, he finds he likes having her as his sister. Her presence was a huge relief once they got over how weird it was. He didn’t feel like he was completely alone to deal with everything. 

He dials her number. It rings twice before someone answers. 

“Hello?” A soft feminine voice says. 

“Takara?”

“Yeah? Takemichi, why are you calling?”

What? Do they not…why wouldn’t he call his sister? “It’s me. I just got back and wanted to see you.” 

“I’ll call you back.” She hangs up and Takemichi stares at his phone, totally confused. What just happened?

If he’s honest, he forgets about Takara in the wake of seeing Hinata alive and well. He gets lost in the reminder of what his relationship was like and the reveal that he apparently broke up with her. And then…then it all goes to shit. He runs into Hanma outside the bathroom and Akkun crashes into Hina, killing them both. Her death was slow in comparison to his friend’s and he’ll never forget that she used her last bit of energy to save him. 

🐈‍⬛

Takara finds him the day after Hina’s funeral. 

He doesn’t recognize her at first. She climbs out of an expensive car, wearing a sleek dress and heels. She’s fashionable for the first time he’s ever seen her. She stares at him for a long moment once she’s close before she sits down across from him. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him softly. 

“What?”

“For Hina. I’m sorry I couldn’t–” she cuts herself off, looking away. 

“What happened to you?” He asks. He hasn’t known Takara for long but the woman sitting across from him is a stranger. 

“You’ve been gone a long time, Take. I’m sure this must be pretty fucked up for you.” There she was. 

“Yeah, it is. What–you were surprised that I called. Do we not talk anymore?”

She smiles but it looks sad. She takes a second to dig in her purse and he stares at her in surprise as he watches her pull out a cigarette and light it. “No,” she finally says once she’s taken a drag. “We’re not close.” 

“But you’re…you’re doing well?” 

She takes another inhale of the cigarette before ignoring the question completely. “I’m glad you’re still alive, Takemichi. I would have killed him otherwise.”

“What? Kill who?”

She tilts her head as she smiles at him. “Who do you think? The person who ordered your murder.” 

He stares at her. “What?”

“What are you going to do now?” she asks, tapping the ash off the cigarette. 

“Naoto and I are going to see Draken.”

Her gaze sharpens and she turns towards him. It’s the first real expression he’s seen on her this whole time. “You can get in to see him?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Let me come.”

“What?”

“Please, Take. Let me come with you.”

He frowns, totally confused. “To see Draken? You’re not even friends.”

She laughs slightly. “Things change in twelve years.”

“Okay, sure,” he nods. “I’ll call you when we’re going.” He’ll bring her, if only so he can spend more time with her and figure out what the hell is going on. 

“Thank you.” 

🐈‍⬛

Her heels clack with every step. 

She shouldn’t be here. Even with her brother at her side, she knows she’s being monitored and someone is going to be pissed that she’s here. She doesn’t know what will anger them more. The cop at her brother’s side or the fact she’s coming to see Draken. She needs to though. She hasn’t been allowed to see him since…since he was arrested. Since everything went to shit. 

Both the men motion for her to sit while they wait for Ryuguji to arrive. She sets her purse on the table before her and crosses her ankles while she waits. She knows she’s a stranger to her brother, but it’s fine. He’s been a stranger to her since the last time they spoke about his plans. 

Ken is ushered in by the guards and her heart leaps into her throat at the sight of him. How long has it been? God, he’s so close and yet so far. His eyes widen once he sees her and whatever he was going to say to her brother is lost as they both drink in the sight of each other. He looks well, but the shaved head doesn’t suit him and he shouldn’t be there. They shouldn’t be barred from each other by a plane of plastic glass. Her eyes burn with tears. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands, ignoring the men and focusing on her. “What the fuck are you doing, Takara?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she carefully wipes under her eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling and ruining her makeup. “I just…Takemichi got permission to see you and I–I had to.”

He ignores her, looking at the men behind her. “What the fuck did you do? You gotta death wish and you have to drag her into it too?”

“She asked,” Naoto says calmly.

Draken looks at her brother. “They find out she’s here, that you brought her with a cop? You better fucking leave the country and take her with you. He probably already fucking knows. Shit!” 

“It’s fine,” she says, trying to placate him. “I can…I can handle him.”

“Him?” Takemichi asks. “Who?” 

Draken gives her an unimpressed look. “You shouldn’t have to fucking handle him, okay? You shouldn’t–we shouldn’t have gotten you fucking involved. In any of this. Should have left you to become a housewife or some shit.”

She snorts. “You think I’m housewife material?” The look he gives her says exactly what he’s not giving words to. “I just wanted to see you,” she adds softly. “It’s been…” She swallows the growing lump in her throat. “I had to see you before…” she cuts herself off. Before he’s finally executed. 

“I’m sorry to cut in,” Naoto says, “but we don’t have much time and Takemichi has questions.” Her brother is looking between her and Draken like he’s never seen them before. She knows the feeling. Even if the last thing he remembered wasn’t twelve years ago, they haven’t kept in touch. Not like they should have. He was free to go his own way and she…she found herself swept up in the current of the Tokyo Manji gang before she even knew what was happening. 

🐈‍⬛

She’s a distraction but she knows neither of them cares. Ken answers all of their questions, his eyes continuing to stray to her. It’s so good to see him and yet…it’s so fucking sad at the same time. She was in love with him once and she knows she still loves him, even if it’s not in the same way. Too much time has passed. Too many deeds between each other and she knows he’s never fully gotten over Emma. He never will. 

When Ken is ushered out, she blows him a kiss. It looks cruel but he pretends to grab it all the same and presses it against his chest. Her heart aches knowing that it’ll be the last time she sees him. 

“Thank you,” she says to Naoto again. 

“You’re welcome,” he nods. “You can repay me by coming to the station and telling me what you know of your husband.”

“Husband?” Takemichi interrupts. “You’re married?”

She smiles softly but keeps her eyes on Naoto. “I don’t know what you mean.” He doesn’t look impressed. “May I have a moment with my brother, please?”

Naoto nods again. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.” He walks away, leaving her with Takemichi.

“You’re married? To who?”

She stares at him for a long moment, trying to burn this expression into her memory. “Same man who tried to kill you,” she says. 

“Kisaki?”

She laughs at that. “God no. Hanma.”

Takemichi’s expression falls. “What? Why?”

She pulls out a cigarette, needing the nicotine if she’s going to get through this conversation. “I don’t have long, okay? So just listen.” She lights it and takes a slow inhale. She has as long as this lasts before she’ll have to leave. “Everything I’ve done has been to help you, okay?”

“How–”

“Stop,” she cuts him off. “Listen.” She waits until he falls silent and sees that determined expression on his face. “I knew someone wanted to kill you in the future, so I tried to make sure that didn’t happen. Obviously, I wasn’t completely successful, but I’ll deal with that. Hanma is just part of the means to the end.” That isn’t true. Hanma’s obsession with her just helped get her in place to know more than she should. “You weren’t involved in the Tokyo Manji gang, not really, but I know you. I know you’re going back. I know you’re going to try to fix this, okay? So listen. Make sure to tell my old self everything. Except the Hanma part. I don’t want to know about that and I’m smart enough to avoid it in the first place if I know the rest.” Takemichi didn’t look like he believed that but he didn’t interrupt. “You need to ask yourself this. Why is someone always trying to kill you?”

“Draken said it’s Kisaki’s obsession with Mikey.”

“You’re not that close to Mikey right now. We both know that. So why now? Why is Kisaki still determined, not only to kill you, but Hina? She’s been a factor each time. You need to think about that, okay?” 

Takemichi stares at her as though he’s never seen her before. “What aren’t you saying? Why are you involved with the Tokyo Manji gang? With Hanma?”

“I have to go. I’m sorry, Take. I hope you make it this time. I’ll keep looking out for you, okay? I’ll protect you, so don’t worry. Save everyone else.” She leans forward and brushes a kiss against his cheek. “Goodbye, brother.” 

🐈‍⬛

She knows it’s coming. She waits, lighting a cigarette and mentally preparing the next steps. This will be the catalyst. She just wonders who’s going to pull it off first. Her or Takemichi

She hears the door open. “I don’t want to play this game,” she says softly. 

He hasn’t moved from where he’s leaning on the door, staring at her. “It’s too late for that.” 

“Yeah,” she taps her cigarette into the tray. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You went to see him.” 

“Yes.” There’s no need to lie. Not when he already knows the truth. 

“Why?”

She sighs and takes another drag. It’s a bad habit she still hasn’t been able to shake. There are worse vices though. “I needed to. I needed to say goodbye.” She looks up at him. “If I had asked, you would have said no.” 

She can see the tick in his jaw, the careful way he’s trying to control the anger that lies under the surface. He knows that she’s always been closest to Draken and he’s hated it since he met her. She’s been a pawn in this game long enough to know how each of them works. 

Draken will always sacrifice himself for Mikey. Hanma will always covet what was someone else’s. Kisaki will always be ten steps ahead. And Takara? She’s been along for the ride since she woke up here. 

“And did you?”

“Say goodbye? Yes.”

He moves forward and she watches as he pours himself a drink. He comes to the table, setting his glass down before winding his fingers in her hair and yanking her head back to look at him. She meets his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have gone.” He grips her jaw with his other hand, fingers pressing into her skin. He’ll leave bruises if he’s not careful. 

“I know.”

“Tetta’s going to be pissed.”

“When isn’t he?” 

He grins at that, always amused at her attitude no matter where it’s directed. He leans down, pressing his mouth to hers. The kiss deepens instantly and she’s reminded of everything she’s done to get to this point. The fingers on her jaw soften, stroking the skin gently as if he could erase the lingering feeling.

“Come to bed,” he orders. 

“After. Let me finish this,” she motions to her cigarette. “Drink your drink and then we can go. I owe you that much.” 

He slams back the drink quickly. No matter how many times they’ve slept together, he’s always desperate for more. She knows he wants to burn the memory of Ken from her skin. Especially now. She stubs out the cigarette and smiles. Takara holds out her hand, waving her fingers lightly. Shuji leans down, kissing the tips before he takes her hand and pulls her to her feet. Even in heels, she doesn’t come close to his height. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. It’s the truth. For all of his obsession, Shuji has been good to her. Most of the time. He’s kept her safe, even if it meant giving in to his demands. His arms wrap around her, pulling her in and holding her against him. 

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of her head. If only he knew what she was apologizing for. She steps back and lets him lead her upstairs. They get halfway before his balance slips. She darts out of the way, watching as he falls backward. The fall injures him but it’ll be the poison that kills him. She stares down at him and when his eyes meet hers, even with that furious expression on his face, she smiles softly. 

“You tried to kill my brother. What did you expect?” 

tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

saudade tag: @thisbicc

[grayintogreen]

Pinned Post II: Electric Boogaloo

Hi, I'm Chris! I'm updating my pinned post to be more streamlined so here we go.

I liveblog Critical Role every week and tag with "cr spoilers" up until Monday. This tag also gets used for Candela Obscura and any one-shots. Dimension 20 spoilers are labeled “d20 spoilers.”

This is primarily a Critical Role and Dimension 20 blog, but I contain multitudes. You will see a lot of random shit depending on my mood. I’m really into Hazbin Hotel right now, for example, so my blog is kinda inundated in that. Honestly I might as well admit I am also a Hazbin blog at this point. Sorry, women.

I write a lot of fic, which can be found on my AO3 here. I primarily write fic centered on minor/supporting characters. I'm also the author of the life in the margins of redemption and red roses and dead things series- more about these below.

I have a ko-fi if you'd like to give me a tip for any reason.

I am the assistant manager of a convenience store that is part of a large retail chain and if you tell me that you shop there because “Wal-Mart is crooked” I’ll kill you. Mine is worse.

My two big series are as follows:

red roses and dead things (or Roseverse), a canon divergent Hazbin Hotel (goes AU after 1x06) series that deals with working on continuing the story while I wait for new material. It is lore-heavy, Team as Family, and redemption-focused with focus on Huskerdust, Alastor and his deal, Lucifer and his relationship to Heaven and Hell and his family, and Charlie continuing to pursue her dreams. Also contains significant amounts of Helluva Boss because we’re not beholden to copyright here.

life in the margins of redemption (or LitMoR), a For Want of a Nail CR2 Canon Divergent series, is a duology (with additional side stories) that takes the alternate path outlined in the Harvest's Close session notes- Cree rescuing the Nein from the Gentleman's wrath should they betray him- and takes it a step further with Cree reviving Molly on the Glory Run Road and traveling with the Nein in the hopes of finding a way to bring Lucien back. It is extremely Canon Divergent, but does feature CR2 plots under radically different circumstances and with additional characters. It's worldbuilding heavy, character-driven, often dark, but has a guaranteed happy ending. You may heard of it as "that 1.5 million word fanfic series."

It is not canon compliant with TNEOL as I had finished OUADYA before TNEOL came out. While I use some elements from the novel, the backstory presented for Lucien and the Tombtakers in the series is entirely different.

More details, including links to the fics, beneath the cut.

THE MAIN STORIES.

Note that while the series features Fjorester, Beauyasha, and Widomauk as primary ships, it is above all a gen fic that focuses on the platonic relationships even more than the romantic ones. I cannot in good faith rec this fic to you if you HATE any of those ships, but I can say if you're indifferent/just want a plot and platonic relationship focus, this fic will appeal to you.

once upon a damn-you-all. Cree saves Molly on the Glory Run Road, sending the Nein's trajectory off the rails in a story about redemption, change, fate, and team-building. Also Molly having to contend with the Somnovem.

you can't deny high noon. The Nein continue their journey with an additional member- a reluctant, captive Lucien- as they continue to face numerous challenges while enemies lurk in the background. While OUADYA is mostly original plotlines, this fic follows the majority of the major plot beats of canon albeit a bit twisted around and out of order.

THE SIDE STORIES

While not necessary to read in order to understand the main duology, I feel like not reading them causes a loss of impact, as often events/characters from them are referenced in the main narrative and having more perspective on the events adds more oomph. This is an extremely detail-oriented series and barely anything goes in without some thought put into it. For the sake of not overwhelming my audience, I'm only listing the side stories I think are actually important to the overall narrative, but please do read the others if you have the time.

there's something divine in the way screams can sound. The events of OUADYA as seen through the eyes of someone trapped in the Astral Sea- or Lucien's utter breakdown, now with context. Introduces several backstory elements that become super relevant in YCDHN.

as in the painted parlor, ophelia dreams. The story of how Ophelia came to the Run, became a Mardoon, and gave up her son.

all of the dreamers defying convention. A fic that takes place in the two month gap between the two duology stories and bridges the two narratives.

OTHER LINKS

original character guide. A guide to the many original characters featured in the series.

[gophergal]

9, 10, and 17 maybe?

9. Do you prefer to write AUs, canon divergence, or canon-compliant fic?

Canon Divergence, probably, but I think most of what I do is only mildly divergent. Most of my fandoms are so bare bones that what I write could reasonably BE compliant, but I take liberties/add headcanon into it so much that it starts to drift.

10. Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

EXPOSITION MY BELOVED. Plot? I don't know her (its really hard for me to come up with plots). Dialogue? I don't talk to people, so thats. Difficult. But I can talk about the world and characters all fucking day, dude. I'll wax poetic about the scenery or the way a character acts, or some element of worldbuilding for pages and then go "wait this was supposed to go somewhere."

17. What fic are you most proud of?

That's a hard one. What Ever Happens is one I think about fondly because I hadn't expected it to get the positive response it did. Fallout 1 isn't a very popular game to write fic for. But The Truth Is Worse is the longest thing I've ever written, so even though it got a bit incohesive (part of the reason I'm reluctant to work on it any further, because I'm not too fond of the way it's turned out) I have to feel some pride in that. And, of course, my current darling I Know Where To Look is just. I'm proud of how my writing style has improved, and my ability to get across characterization. She may be flawed, but she's mine.

BEHIND THE SCENES ASKS

[elialys]

Ten x Rose - A Leap of Faith

Dear @lastbluetardis​​, let’s try this again, shall we? ^^’ As I’ve told you last weekend, I had a much bigger story cooking for you as part of the @dwsecretsanta​​ exchange. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it, but it’s done now, so I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This takes place right at the end of The Satan Pit. It’s almost 6,000 words long, and it’s also sliiiiightly smutty :p

[READ IT ON AO3]

A Leap of Faith

“Oh, the stuff of legend.”

Any other day and Rose might have rolled her eyes at this melodramatic description of their duo, far from thinking so highly of herself. She smiles back at the Doctor instead and lets him have this moment; it is clear from the way he looks at her that he believes her to be exactly as he says.

As soon as he pulls the right lever between them, the Time rotor comes to life.

“Where d’you send her?” Rose can’t help but ask, glancing away from the rotor to look up at him, expecting to find him staring at the screen, the way he usually is when standing by the console.

When she meets his gaze dead on, a shiver runs down her spine.

“Home,” he says simply, his voice lower than usual.

Rose makes a face at these words. She hasn’t showered in what feels like days, although no more than twenty-four hours can have gone by since they landed on Krop Tor; she supposes spending a good portion of that time running away from murderous Oods or crawling through maintenance tunnels would make anyone feel grimy. Not to mention the exhaustion settling down upon her.

That’s one of the many feelings she’s become rather familiar with since she started traveling with the Doctor, that ‘I almost died and now I’m a bit tired’ heaviness in every one of her muscles and bones.

“D’you really feel up for an evening with Mum?” she asks him with a bit of a frown, because she sure isn’t. As much as she’d worried about never seeing her Mum again only hours ago, simply being back on the TARDIS has put those fears to rest.

Quieting down her fears about nearly losing the Doctor is not as easy, even with him standing right there next to her, their bodies so close, their arms are almost touching.

“Blimey, no,” the Doctor answers with a glower, a tad too emphatically – although she can’t blame him. Jackie hadn’t been at her friendliest during their last visit, which had involved consoling her daughter about Mickey’s decision to stay in the parallel universe. “We’re merely orbiting around good old planet Earth,” he adds. “After the day we’ve had, I figured a quiet night away from anything resembling a black hole would be rather nice.”

There was a time when Rose would have dashed from the console to pull the door open and take a look outside, never tiring from seeing the Earth from this point of view – and that time might have been as recently as yesterday.

She’s reluctant to move at the moment, just as reluctant as the Doctor is to look away from her, apparently. They rarely do ‘still’ and ‘quiet’ to this degree, and whenever these moments present themselves, as they ought to on occasions, he’s always been keen to put an end to them as quickly as possible.

As Rose stares back at him and more seconds pass slowly, almost sluggishly, the potent energy that comes with their most recent ‘I’ve almost lost you’ scare pulses between them, embedding them both with a pull that feels almost magnetic.

Rose blames that pull for soon finding herself in his arms again, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, his embrace as strong as it’s been every other time he’s hugged her today.

She doesn’t mind this mutual clinginess, all too happy to reciprocate, even if her feet don’t leave the ground, this time; there is no laughter either, only the tight hold of his arms around her, her fingers clenching the fabric of his jacket, revelling in that tangible proof that he is here.

He puts an end to the moment by making a…peculiar noise, causing her to frown against him.

“Did you just…sniff me?”

“Well,” he says, not yet moving away. “You’re giving off some very strong smells. As anyone would after running for their life while trapped in close quarters.”

In another words, she reeks.

“Yeah?” she asks with a scoff, before sniffing him even more obnoxiously in retaliation. “You smell just like my grandpa used to, and I don’t mean it as a compliment either.”

“Sulphur does give out quite a pungent odour, doesn’t it?” he notes, unfazed. “It was bad, all the way down that Pit. I don’t think you would have been able to keep that blue purée down for very long if you’d been there.”

They both tense at these words. Somehow, this involuntary stiffness sets him into motion again, finally pulling away to peer at her, his hands on her upper arms. “You should shower. And sleep.”

She gives a short shake of her head. “There’s no way ’m gonna be able to sleep.”

“You look tired,” he counters.

“I feel it, too,” she admits. “Still won’t make that sleeping thing any easier.” When he simply carries on looking at her, she shrugs a little. “I just…I know we’re safe, orbiting the Earth and all that, but it’s like my brain’s not completely caught up with that yet, and…it still thinks there’s a black hole above us, you know?”

He stares at her for another long, stretching second, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

“I may be able to help with that,” he tells her, his chipper tone contrasting with the grave look on his face. “Give me…thirty minutes to do some tinkering, then meet me in the media room, eh? I’ll even let you put me through another one of those twentieth-century romantic movies you enjoy so much.”

Rose’s curiosity is piqued, but she’s long ago learnt it would be pointless to ask. “Okay,” she agrees with another small frown and a shrug.

“Brilliant!” the Doctor beams at her, before springing out of the room.

Rose does take a shower, washing away the layers of grime and fear still clinging to her skin. As much as she tries not to think back on the events of the day, her brain refuses to comply, a mixture of anxiety and guilt twisting at her gut whenever she recalls those twenty minutes spent on that rocket, forcefully strapped to a seat while the planet the Doctor was trapped on got sucked into the black hole.

In her rush to get back to him as quickly as possible, she doesn’t even dry her hair, not doing anything beyond swiftly putting on some pyjamas. After nearly two years of companionship, this is far from being the first time they do this.

Her heart’s never beaten quite as fast as it does as she enters the room, though, finding him sitting on the couch, one of his long arms draped over the back of it, fingers drumming at it; whatever thoughts he’s lost into, they can’t be any better than hers, his expression even more solemn than it’d been in the control room, his specs giving him a particularly stern look.

He’s changed since they were last together, and she supposes he must have showered, too. He’s not bothered with a suit jacket, only wearing a white shirt and a blue tie, the light colour contrasting with the dark fabric of the couch, making his limbs look impossibly long.

There is no logic to the rush of anticipation and relief that sweeps through her as she takes him in. She’d known he’d be right there, waiting for her, and yet, she cannot help the small sigh that escapes her at the sight of him, the sound enough to pull him out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at her.

Or stare, really.

The way her insides dip at the intensity of his gaze is far from being unpleasant, nor is it entirely  new.

“What do you want?” he asks her quietly, and her brain must be very tired, because he cannot possibly mean what she thinks he means.

“What?” she hears herself asking, sounding oddly breathless.

He frowns the smallest of frowns, before tilting his head toward the large screen on the other side of the room. “Film selection,” he says. “What would you like to watch?”

Rose looks away as she scolds herself for letting her mind go anywhere near there. She forces herself to move, too, hoping it will help put an end to the heavy statics crackling between them, well aware that the tingles at the back of her neck are caused by his relentless staring.

“Dunno,” she answers at last, grabbing one of the blankets she likes to wraps herself in when she watches the telly. “Anything with Hugh Grant in it will do, I guess.”

He scowls as she pops down onto the other end of the couch. “Is he that British bloke with the puppy eyes and the ridiculous head of hair?”

She gives him a look, unable not to stare pointedly at his lush head of hair.

He doesn’t see it, too busy staring at the uncharacteristically large space between them, frowning as he meets her eyes again. Rose scoots closer to him before he can ask what is up with her – because in all honesty, she’s not entirely sure what is up with her at all.

They have done this many times before, snuggling on the couch watching a film, and while she’s always been very much aware of his body in situations like this one (how could she not?), it just feels…different, this time, as if the events of the day have made her even more responsive to his proximity.

Like she just cannot get enough proofs that he is here.

Obviously, that excessive need to touch him translates into her trying to stay as far away from him as possible, not entirely sure how much she can trust herself around him tonight.

She’s always liked him more than as a friend, even back when he was gruffier and less prone to hugging, but lately, she’s been finding it hard not to cross that line between friendship and more. He’s been sending her mixed signals, too, and she has no idea how he would react to her doing as much as putting a toe on that line – although she suspects ‘bolting’ would be a probable outcome.

He’s not bolting tonight, quite happy to let her snuggle up against his side. While he would typically keep his arm above the blanket, said arm actually disappears under the blanket this time, getting a much more secured hold on her waist.

This need for proximity obviously isn’t one sided.

With her nose once again pressed to his shoulder, she breathes in the clean scents from his shirt. There is no trace of sulphur left, just laundry detergent and…him, feeling herself relaxing at these familiar smells, just as comforted by the feel of his body against hers.

“Look up,” he eventually tells her, his voice still lower than usual.

She does, lifting her head to look at him, meeting his slightly-augmented eyes through his lenses. A small smile tugs at his lips as he tilts his head, indicating the ceiling. “Up up,” he clarifies.

She’s tempted to ignore his directive for a moment, more than happy to carry on drinking in his features instead, as always a bit too affected by things like the dash of freckles across his cheekbones.

Rose does look up, eventually, seeing nothing but the smooth expanse of coral overhead; there is a characteristic noise beside her, the Doctor’s free hand now pointing toward the ceiling, his sonic flaring.

“Made a couple of modifications, hold on.” He changes the setting on his device, then tries again.

Overhead, the coral begins to change, shimmering brightly, before it seems to disappear altogether, until Rose finds herself staring at planet Earth, suspended into space.

“It’s not a window, not like it was on their base,” he says. “It’s just a projection, but I suppose it will do, considering I came up with this in seven and a half minutes. Looks real enough.”

‘Real enough’ doesn’t cover it.

Rose watches, as mesmerized as ever by the many nuances of colours that make up her home planet, from the various shades of its oceans and landscapes, to its amalgam of shifting white clouds.

“See,” he speaks again. “No more black hole.”

His voice is low as he says those words, his tone dragging Rose’s eyes back to him, not entirely surprised to find him staring at her, oblivious to the beauty above. He looks so confident about their safety…she wishes she could tell him how she feels – which is not entirely soothed, at the moment.

She can fend for herself well enough, as proven today, and she knows he’ll always do his best to get her out of harm’s way, but this is beyond the point.

The valiant child, who will die in battle so very soon.

Rose shudders at the memory of that…voice. Close as they are, the tremors echo through him, and the Doctor frowns in concern, his brow creasing in question. She shakes her head, unable to share her fears with him, remembering the way he’d dismissed those words less than an hour ago.

She lowers her head instead, back to pressing her nose to his shoulder. “What…was it?” she cannot help but ask in a half-whisper.

He’s quiet for a long moment.

“I don’t know,” he admits, and there is no more false-bravado in his voice, no quick dismissal either.

Rose swallows hard, seeing herself as she’d been in that rocket, faced with that…thing possessing Toby, using the bolt gun to shatter the front screen before unfastening Toby’s belt, watching him getting sucked into space.

“I killed him,” she says against his shoulder, her voice thick. “Toby,” she adds. “When he…changed again. I didn’t even hesitate, I just…killed him.”

The Doctor moves slightly, and she looks up, meeting his eyes. “Whatever took possession of him on that planet…that’s what killed him,” he tells her, quietly. “He probably died the moment his body became a vessel for that creature’s mind. What you did was prevent that mind from escaping and hurting a lot more people. Just as I knew you would.”

She stares up at him. “And what if I hadn’t?”

“Nonsensical,” he replies at once with a small glower. “Rose Tyler, not saving the day? What a ludicrous concept.”

She finds herself smiling softly against his shoulder, even as she shakes her head. “You’ve got way too much faith in me.”

His own smile fades at her words, replaced by an expression that is once again too solemn, back to staring at her with an intensity and stillness she’s not quite used to, causing her toes to curl under her.

Her breath actually gets caught in her throat when he brings a hand up to her face, his thumb slowly tracing the line of her jaw.

“You’ve heard me praise humans before,” he speaks quietly. “For their resilience, and their curiosity, for their insatiable urge to go further. Yet humans are inexorably flawed. That resilience of theirs often turns into recklessness, and their curiosity leads them to open doors that should never be opened in the first place, until they find themselves scrambling for their lives. And it’s not that you don’t get reckless, we both know that’s a silly notion. But you’ve never been big on the scrambling.”

Rose lets out a small scoff into the fabric of his shirt. “Should’ve seen me in those maintenance tunnels, trying to escape the Oods. ‘Scrambling’ was definitely a big part of my day.”

He’s stopped the tracing of her jaw, all five of his fingertips now pressed lightly upon the side of her face, his skin cool in contrast with hers. “So maybe you do scramble from time to time,” he concedes. “But I don’t think I’m wrong in assuming you’re the one who got the crew to focus long enough so you could all escape?”

She’s quiet for a moment, her lips grazing his shoulder. “Maybe I helped a bit,” she admits, rather meekly.

“And from everything I’ve gathered, when I realised the creature’s mind was on that rocket with you and I destroyed the energy field that kept the planet from getting sucked into that black hole, you’re the one who figured it out and took action.”

Rose doesn’t say anything at all this time, simply looking back at him. His fingers have moved to cup her face, and her skin burns under the coolness of his palm.

He leans forward, then, until his lips are brushing her forehead. “Sounds to me like I’ve got just the right amount of faith in you,” he tells her quietly.

Most of the tension she still held in her body seems to leave her, and she finds herself slumping against him, her eyes closing. He responds to her movements, shifting just enough so that she rests more comfortably against his side and part of his chest, her head tucked under his chin while he buries his nose in her hair.

Under her ear, his heartbeats are slow and even; strong, and alive.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers in her hair, obviously aware that she’s already halfway there.

“You gonna get bored…” she breathes out sleepily.

“Naaah,” he says in a whispered version of his familiar, chipper tone. “I’ll have Hugh to keep me company.”

She lets out a small, rumbly chuckle as he uses his free hand to point the remote at the telly.

“Doctor?” she murmurs.

“Mm?”

But she’s already gone.

…

When she emerges, the telly is still playing, although the volume is too low for her to be able to decipher any dialogue. Even with her eyes closed, it doesn’t take her long to realise the Doctor is asleep against her, his breathing deep, his heartbeat even slower than before; there is an unmistakable heaviness to the arm wrapped around her waist, too, his hand resting limply upon her thigh.

While this is definitely not the first time she’s fallen asleep against him, he’s never actually slept with her before.

She’s tempted to move to take a better look at him in this unusual, vulnerable state, but from the feel of it, his face appears to be mostly buried in her hair, and she has no doubt any excessive movement will instantly wake up him up.

Still, she cannot quite resist the urge to touch him.

Her hand finds his under the blanket, her fingertips grazing the top of it, lightly tracing his knuckles, before following the sinuous path of the veins beneath his skin.

She hears the change in his heartbeats before anything else, speeding up slightly. A couple seconds later, he sighs deeply into her hair, before his arm actually moves, slowly tightening his hold to pin her more firmly to him. That does not stop her from carrying on with the slow exploration of his hand.

“Didn’t think you did naps,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out another gust of air in her hair, like a scoff. “Attenuating circumstances,” he replies, his voice low and rumbly. “Body’s still recuperating. Those are more like bouts of regenerative coma than naps, to be honest. Not my first one today either.”

Her hand has stopped moving upon his. “Regenerative coma?”

“Ah,” he says, his face moving a little, soon feeling his breath upon her forehead. “Took a bit of a fall down that Pit. There was some kind of air cushion in place to absorb most of the shock, but I suspect I fell at least a good hundred meters.”

“That’s…insane, even for you,” she speaks quietly, her throat closing up.

She feels him shrug.

“You were up on the planet’s surface, I was down in that Pit,” he says simply. “Had no way of getting back to you, or even communicating with you. The only way onward was…downward. Way, way down, as it turned out.”

“How did you know, though?” she asks. “That you’d find what you were looking for?”

“I didn’t,” he admits. “Call it…a leap of faith, I suppose.”

Sounds to me like I’ve got just the right amount of faith in you.

She hears his words, even as her hand leaves the warmth that has gathered under the blanket, coming up to splay her fingers over the side of his neck, the heat of her skin slowly seeping into his, soon feeling the echoes of the beats still thumping under her ear. Inside her chest, her own heart squeezes at this added realisation of just how close she’d come to losing him today.

The fact that they both made it out alive is nothing short of a miracle.

This is far from being their first embrace today – she’s honestly losing count, not to mention the unknown amount of time she’s just spent sleeping against him. And yet, the slow, almost rhythmic feel of his breath upon her forehead soon causes shivers to run down her spine, the small tremors spreading through her entire body, another reaction he’s close enough to feel.

Any other day, and this would have been his cue to release her and put some much needed distance between them.

He doesn’t.

When her fingers begin to move again, slowly going up around his neck to curl into the hair at the back of his head, he lets her, feeling the shivers she’s creating under his skin. Not only is he letting her do this, he’s also joining in.

Cool fingers are slipping under the fabric of her top, his palm running slowly over her stomach, causing her muscles to twitch as her whole body shudders again, her heart speeding up inside her chest. His pinkie finger is trailing the hem of her pyjamas bottoms, now, not quite daring to pass that threshold, but the simple fact that his hand is right there, touching her, is enough to cause her insides to clench.

She tilts her head back, needing to look at him, meeting his eyes behind his lenses. Although he appears calm, that intensity in his gaze is stronger than it’s been at any point tonight.

“Doctor…” she says quietly, almost breathing out his name.

She wants to tell him…how terrified she was through it all. How the only reason why she took charge the way she did out there is because she kept hearing his voice in her head, telling her she knew what to do. How ultimately, she’d had to survive, because how would she help him if she died?

She wants to tell him how heartsick she felt when she realised she’d been drugged and forced away from Krop Tor, forced to leave him on his own, all the way down that Pit.

“I know,” he tells her thickly, his eyes full with the same fears and relief.

He’s leaning forward, then, his shortened breath following the bridge of her nose, until his forehead is resting against hers, his subsequent exhales pooling upon her lips, which tingle in anticipation. As seconds pass, she wonders if he’s fighting that urge to go on again, that urge to just give in, and take another leap of faith.

Rose encourages him, giving his hair the slightest of tugs, taking that leap with him.

When he kisses her, he does it slowly…so slowly…yet every brush of his lips, each small shift of his body, is bursting with barely contained longing, his fingers getting entangled in her hair to try bringing her closer. Shivering in bemusement, relief and swelling desire, Rose follows his cues, unwilling to do anything that might make him change his mind.

She cannot keep herself from aching for more, though, her conscious self not exactly in charge anymore as more seconds tick on and he carries on kissing her almost in reverence; the next time their mouths part for air, she keeps hers open as she pulls his face back to hers, gliding the tip of her tongue over his lower lip.

His response is immediate and eager, not opposed to this at all, judging by the way he shifts his entire hold on her to pull her onto his lap with a low noise. She finds herself straddling him almost clumsily, wrapping her arms around his neck while he circles her waist tightly, the blanket crumpled against her lower back. There is nothing chaste in the way they seek one another, then, Rose using the entire length of her body to press him firmly to the back of the couch, their faces so close that the frame of his glasses digs into her flesh.

She doesn’t really care if they damage the bloody things, or if she ends up with a black eye, too engrossed in the sturdy, shivering feel of him, pressed so tightly to her, intoxicated by the languid meeting of their tongues. When she begins rolling her hips into him, slowly yet steadily, he gasps into her mouth, before completely shifting their positions again.

Her stomach drops as she falls backward, the Doctor following along, entrapped between her limbs, until her back hits the couch. Her entire body flushes with heat as he mirrors her previous moves, all rolling hips and growing pressure; trapped as he is between her legs, his movements are rather limited, but he makes do, creating a kind of friction that is a little too pleasant, soon drawing a hoarse sound out of her, her body caring very little about how many layers of clothes still separate them.

Her rational mind chooses this moment to resurface, something nudging at it. Her curiosity quickly getting the best of her, she forces her lips away from his, reopening her eyes to look at their surroundings.

Technically, they still are on the couch they were on moments ago. It doesn’t look anything like it did when they first sat on it, though, its surface area having somehow tripled, if not quadrupled, so that it now resembles a king-size bed.

“What the hell happened to the couch?” she finds herself asking, her voice breathless and low.

There is a pause, his brain apparently needing a moment to refocus and form words. His hair is a tousled mess, his glasses adorably askew, his eyes glazed over.

“You know the TARDIS,” he eventually replies, his respiratory bypass system obviously operational; despite his dazed tone, he doesn’t sound nearly as affected as she does – although she’s feeling how affected he is getting alright. “She likes making things bigger.”

This could have been awkward, the two of them back to talking for the first time since they started snogging rather intensely; it could have put an end to the moment, broken the mood, reminded him that this should absolutely, definitely not be happening.

It doesn’t feel awkward.

Different, for sure, but ultimately, it’s all still very…chummy.

(Except for the dry humping, maybe)

Rose reaches up to pull the specs off his face, tossing them aside without much care. “Looks like your TARDIS got some competition,” she points out as she lifts her hips off the couch, purposefully pressing herself to that hardening bulge.

He lets out a small groan as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, and she cannot decide if that sound is caused by what she just did, or if he’s lamenting her terrible attempt at salacious humour.

That thought fizzles away as her breath gets caught in her throat. With his head out of the way, the projection overhead has come into full view again, having somehow forgotten about that window into space he created above them.

This glimpse into such a familiar part of their cosmos makes her head spins, even as it tethers her, comforted in her awareness that they are as far from Krop Tor as they can be right now.

Nothing tethers her quite as successfully as his lips upon her throat, though…his lips, and his tongue, and the graze of his teeth, one of his hands back under her top, travelling upward with one clear destination in mind, unable to focus on anything but the feel of him and the jolts of pleasure he’s sparking in her.

Despite the heat nothing short of radiating from her, his fingers remain cooler than any human’s, causing her nipple to harden the instant his hand starts trailing the sensitive skin of her breast. Her pleasure stirs low as he cups it fully, caressing, massaging, teasing…his tongue having discovered a particularly erogenous zone below her ear, and she cannot do anything but cling to him, her nails raking at his scalp and clothes.

The next time he lifts himself up and meets her gaze, it doesn’t feel that chummy anymore, his pupils dilated, his cheeks slightly flushed from having been pinned to her warm skin, the look in his eyes enough to cause another tug, deep within her.

She wants to reciprocate some of the attention, but the moment she tries getting a hand between them, he grabs at it gently yet firmly, pulling it back out with a small shake of his head. As soon as he releases her wrist, he begins undoing the buttons of her pyjama top.

He takes his time, too, well aware of what this is doing to her. When the last one comes undone, he’s just as slow in revealing her heaving breasts, pulling the fabric aside, one half at a time.

The darkening look on his face is not what she expected.

Rose’s confusion only worsens when his fingers begin tracing something upon her sternum.

“What is it?” she asks quietly, the angle making it impossible for her to see what he’s seeing.

“You’re bruising,” he says, before raising his eyes to look at her. “Looks like a belt mark.”

Rose swallows hard. “Oh, yeah,” she breathes out. “Shot off the front screen of that rocket with a bolt gun, created a vacuum to suck…whatever that was out. I guess that belt saved my life.”

When the Doctor lowers his head, Rose buries her fingers in his hair, his lips grazing her bruised skin, his gestures even slower than they were moments ago. Her caress becomes a twist when wet heat entraps one of her nipples, and pleasure trickles down the length of her, pooling between her legs, where she aches to be touched, her hips rising off the bed as she seeks friction.

He soon recaptures her lips in a languid kiss, one of her legs having slipped between his to pin him  more firmly to her. He doesn’t indulge in that friction she’s encouraging, one of his hands moving instead, disappearing inside her pyjama bottoms.

Although he remains slow, there is no hesitation in the way he touches her, his fingers gliding through her folds, and the feel of how much she’s responded to him is enough to cause him to groan into her mouth. She echoes that sound when he uses his slick fingers to work on her, and that contrast between cool skin and heat is a sensation she cannot get enough of, adding to the tendrils of pleasure spreading all the way from her core to her toes.

The way he touches her goes beyond longing, beyond yearning.

He’s…worshiping her, drawing out her pleasure, swallowing each of her gasps and moans as they rise out of her, and when she becomes unable to kiss him, too wrapped up in her swelling pleasure, he simply brings his face back to the crook of her neck, his tongue easily finding that spot again.

Pinned as she is beneath him, both of them still nearly fully dressed, Rose is burning up, beads of perspiration beginning to leather her skin, most of it immediately absorbed by the fabric of her pyjamas. She craves for the cool feel of him, getting rather fed up with all these clothes on him, as everywhere she tries clinging to him, she’s met with fabric instead of skin.

She slips a hand between them to grab at his wrist in a halting gesture, and he stops almost at once, her other hand back in his hair, tugging to bring his face back to hers. She cups his cheek as he does, finding his skin uncharacteristically warm under her fingertips, having absorbed some of her heat.

“Please…” she whispers against his lips, her insides pulsing and clenching with need, blood rushing in her ears and where his fingers remain. “I want to feel you…” She releases his wrist to press her hand against the length of him through his trousers, causing him to let out his loudest moan yet.

He doesn’t stop her this time when she begins to unfasten his belt and unbutton his trousers, helping her along instead, his boxers just as swiftly discarded. Within moments, her pyjamas are pulled down her legs. When he begins to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, Rose pulls on his tie and brings him back down, their foreheads once more pressed together, and she shakes her head, loosely encasing his hips, with just enough pressure to initiate contact.

The feel of her seems to break any kind of control he had left, one of his arms supporting his weight while the other one slips beneath her to pull her flush against him, his hips rolling, causing him to slide upon her, both shuddering at the sensation.

“Doctor…” she gasps almost in supplication, twisting his hair in her fist.

There’s no more hesitation, the next shifts of his body all directed towards one goal, and her nails dig into his scalp when he enters her in one long thrust. Whatever discomfort she feels is small compared to having him inside of her, filling her so completely, and the way he keeps his face pressed to hers makes her feel like he’s attempting to fuse himself to her.

He doesn’t remain still for long, quite unable to; judging by the uneven way he begins to move upon her, she doubts he will last long, his body trembling against hers. It doesn’t matter, her pleasure already building back up with every thrust of his hips, one of her hands having disappeared under his shirt, relishing the feel of his cool skin, while the other one clutches at his backside, encouraging him all the while driving him deeper inside of her, his breath anything but cold against her face.

As her climax nears, Rose reopens her eyes, and gets lost into space, the stars and the Earth expending high above, certain that gravity will find her, and send her both soaring and plummeting towards the ground.

His fingers in her hair tether her back to him, dragging her heavy gaze away from this piece of universe he’s created just for her, meeting his eyes as she refocuses on him, pressing her fingertips upon the stars on his cheeks.

And as her name falls from his lips like a prayer, Rose lets herself be pulled into his infinite.

[deepspacedukat]

90. “If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?” + Weyoun maybe? 👀

Oooh, I love the way you think, Nonny! Based off a starter post which can be found here. Cross-posted to AO3 here.

If anyone wants to be added to my taglist or wants to submit a fic request, my ask box is always open! If you want to know whether I write for a certain character, have a look here. If the character you want isn’t on the list, I probably just forgot to add them, so please feel free to ask.

~*~

All That Matters

Weyoun 6 (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: I’ve been feeling things, so I figured I’d channel what I wanted into writing by knocking out a couple of mini drabbles.]

Warnings: None, this is fluffy af. I mean, if pda bothers you, then maybe give this a miss, but I can’t imagine anything else in in this needing a warning...

~*~

Something had been bothering Weyoun all day, I could tell. From the way his eyebrows drew together in concern to the lack of his familiar, cheerful smile, his entire countenance spoke volumes about his mental state. As the two of us walked along the Promenade together, our daily activity of ignoring the stares that were sent his way had long since begun. Weyoun may have defected to the Federation, but he was still a Vorta, and the rest of the station’s occupants were reluctant to trust a Vorta - much as they had been slow to trust Garak when he remained on the station after the Occupation ended.

Despite our blossoming relationship, Weyoun seldom did so much as hold my hand in public. Oh, he wasn’t ashamed to be with a Starfleet officer, but he was nervous about what response such openness might trigger. Today, though, as we passed the entrance to one of the various shops, his fingers hesitantly sought out mine. Without a moment’s pause, I grasped his hand and pulled him gently to a stop.

“Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you, or do I need to guess?” I asked as I lifted both his hands to my lips. A light purple blush colored his cheeks, and he gave me a sheepish smile.

“It’s nothing. I suppose I...I’ve been rather lost in thought today.” It wasn’t like him not to speak his mind. Reaching up to cup his cheek softly, I gave him an incredulous look. “I’ve been thinking. If it were safe to do so and if it wouldn’t damage your reputation...”

He paused and took a deep breath as if gathering his courage.

“If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?” He asked looking more nervous than I’d ever seen him. Stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around his neck, I leaned in until my lips met Weyoun’s. His hands came to rest on my waist as the tension that had been keeping him wound tightly all day left him on the back of a quiet hum. A few heads undoubtedly turned our way, but neither of us cared. All that mattered was what was important - that we had each other.

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.���

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[webcomixwastaken]

So I just learned that there is a significant amount of fanfic readers who withhold comments and kudos until a WIP is completely finished because they want to "make sure" that it's worth their approval.

As a writer, this floors me. Because... this is how you kill a fic. I feel like I sound like a broken record here because this has been repeated on the internet for years, and years, and years: feedback and encouragement fuels your fanfiction. It takes hours to write what you read in minutes. Writing is a craft that involves gestating, drafting, revising, editing... and in a good chunk of cases, sending to betas, waiting for betas, absorbing beta feedback and then revising and editing all over again. You know what you get when you don’t support your fic writer? Unfinished stories. Which is ironic because some of these “I’m reluctant to kudos” readers cite WIP abandonment issues as the cause?? But writers interpret silence as “Oh, people don’t like this. People don’t want this. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing it. Maybe I suck, actually.” And with those seeds sown, they’ll give up what used to excite them.

Isn't that sad? Yes. Yes it is.

"You should be writing for yourself, for the art!" I know. I do. I have hundreds of thousands of words that have seen very few eyes other than mine -- 2 polished novels of which one has been shelved after fighting in the query trenches and the other still eking it out, 1 hot mess of a first draft awaiting cleanup before it too gets rejected by a bunch of professionals, a couple of WIPs in varying degrees of progress that I do intend to return to and finish, even more than I reached 50k+ words but have decided not to return to, dozens of short stories. All within the past decade and I consider myself slow compared to my peers. And this doesn't even count my fanfic which adds at least 400k+ more words to the pile and can’t (since I post to ao3) be monetised or published traditionally. Every paragraph is already a passion project.

Also, when I see a strong sub-to-hits ratio that doesn't match the kudos-to-hits, I know that people are interested but for some unfathomable reason, avoid actual interaction. Oh, so are we just a statistic to you? Yeah, because you choose to be. Commenting turns you into a person we get to interact with and imagine when we write the next installment. I absolutely have usernames and DPs in mind when I write and look out for them in the comments when I update. If you comment, we will quite literally be writing for you.

For free and during precious leisure time, may I add.

There has been exactly ONE time where I truly regretted my comment+kudos but a single unusual instance isn’t going to turn me into a snob. Even fics where I’ve lost interest or realised it’s going a direction I don’t really care for, I often click that kudos button because a) I know the effort it took to write this and b) ANONYMOUS KUDOS IS AN OPTION. Another bizarre reasoning I saw was “it’s still my username if I’m logged in”... so log out! Or open incognito mode! Also, the point of a username/online account is that you’re not using your actual identity, but one you’ve made up? Social media has blurred this but I don’t think your ao3 account needs to be an ultra-serious extension of yourself. Like, it’s the internet. Not real life. (god am I revealing myself as an old cringeass millennial?) 

Also, hate to break it to you -- people are paying less attention than you think. I have to tell myself this all the time. Unless you’re like, Naomi Novik, people probably aren’t clocking your handle crammed alongside chickennugget47 and superhomestuckywholockcrossing (wow I really am dating myself with this)

Anyway. I’m not going to demand you kudos or comment. But just adding to the over-exposed, oft-repeated, and old-as-fuck fandom discourse that doing so almost always benefits both reader and writer than no. So seriously consider it, please.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

To-do list

i have no idea when i posted last, it has been a while. sorry, but i have been a little sick and unmotivated but alas, i am back with the normal cressworth. i read a post by @ink-insomnia about thomas making a list with absurd things (kissing audrey rose, being a god amongst men) so i made a fic out of it. it is pure fluff, pure ecresswell being dramatic. enjoy!

Audrey Rose has always claimed I am less organised than her. Despite my plans that surprise her in everyday life, I am more scattered. I disagree of course, Audrey Rose may be meticulous in how she leads her life but I am just the same even if she doesn't realise it. My sporadic ideas are part of my charm. Nonetheless I have devised a plan to help convince my love of her mistake. I shall leave a list of plans on our shared desk, much like she does, in order to show how organised I can be if I tried but I tend to make plans that are open to changes whereas she does not. I also rarely write my plans down but my darling wife loves to sit us down to make plans so she feels comfortable in the knowledge she wont forget an important date. 

~

I watch my ridiculous husband write something at our desk, a small smirk playing at his lips meaning only one thing: he is up to something that will only be bad. I roll my eyes and leave the door quickly before he spots me watching him. We had spent the weekend at Thomas's holiday home, taking a much needed break after one of the longest cases we’ve ever experienced. We were only going to take the weekend off but uncle had decided to take the entire week off so Thomas insisted we do the same. Perhaps that insistence has something to do with what he is writing now. 

Sir Isaac walks out of one of the spare rooms, his room as Thomas claims, despite the beast sleeping in our room and pestering us in every room but that one. However, every time I mention that to him he waves me off saying our little baby needs his own space and it's not his fault he adores us so much he stays with us as much as possible. I smile at the memory of him telling me that he was lying in bed playing with the cat, using one of the many toys he has brought to keep the cat occupied. I had brought up some breakfast for us both, as well as coco for thomas. He gave me a wide smile and came to me as soon as the door opened, taking the tray from me and setting it down, wrapping me in a hug that made sir Isaac jealous enough to start climbing up my leg. He laughed at my scowl and thus began that conversation. 

The cat walks alongside me as I set myself down in the kitchen, resuming the book I was reading earlier this morning. We sit in silence until Thomas enters the room, a smirk that only results in problems, one that he is trying to hide from me. 

I debated just asking him what he's done but he would not tell me so easily. Instead I chose to ignore that smirk and ask: “how are you, love?’”

“Perfect darling, how are you, how is the book?” He sits beside me and starts stroking our cat who purrs loudly at the attention. 

“I’m well, the book is interesting, mostly, though I am wondering whether I should find another for the night.” my own plan formulates as I begin to stand in order to go to our room and find a new book and peek at what he was writing. He holds my gaze with a knowing look. Of course he knows what I'm going to do, but the question is, will he let me? 

To my surprise he does and I make my way upstairs. I place my book on the desk, moving around the papers and finding what could be what he wrote today. It is a list. I bite back a laugh as I begin to read.                         

 To-do list

-Be a god amongst men (as always)

-Get Audrey Rose to call me a scoundrel

-Kiss Audrey Rose

No longer do I bite back my laugh. My husband took to heart my complaints about his jokes about lists. Well, almost. In his own fashion of course. I put it back and go to our bookshelf to find another book, contemplating whether or not to tell him I know his plan or make my own just for fun for him to deliberately find. I was fully aware he knew I would look for it, which leads me to believe he saw me standing in the doorway but refused to look at me. He was infuriating at times, but little did he know I would play his absurd games. ‘A god amongst men’ was completely foolish, and the fact he wrote about kissing me, as if it was some hard task or something that was to plan for. Sitting, I picked up the discarded pen and wrote my own to-do list.                                      

  To do list

-stop whatever my foolish husband has planned

-kiss said husband

-remind Thomas to act his age

I put the list inside the book and walked back downstairs, to the kitchen where there was a familiar sight of Thomas and sir Isaac playing on the kitchen counter. I smiled at the peaceful sight, a wave of gratitude washing over me. Every case, very close calls made me cherish these smaller moments more. Every ridiculous act of Thomas he got to do just to make me smile was something I felt could be snatched away from us so I stood for a second and let them play. I set my book down, opening it so the note was visible but folded so Thomas had to open it up. 

“Found one?” He asks not to turn to face me because our cat demands attention and Thomas always complies. 

“Yes. enjoying playing?”

“Of course,” this time he turned and winked and I nearly blurted out ‘scoundrel’ but I didn't want to make completing his list easy. Instead I sat and moved the sheet of paper and opened the book and began reading. Silence descended for a while until I felt Thomas's hands around my waist. Instinctively I leaned into him, savouring his warmth and love. He kissed my temple as sir Isaac jumped onto the table and nudged my book, forever in need of our attention. Thomas, as usual, obliges by scratching his head then he reaches for the discarded page.

“What is this love?”

“A list, but also a bookmark.”

“Another list?” He smirks at me and flips it open, reading the list and then I hear his laugh fill the room. I should have added to make Thomas laugh, although that is my goal everyday even if I never go out of my way to try and make him laugh. If his laugh was the only sound I could hear I would still be happy. “My love,” he sets the list down, a smile still graces his face as he squeezes my side, “i agree with only one of these, I’m sure you can guess which one.” he adds a wink.

I roll my eyes and mutter scoundrel. Of course he would focus on the kiss and not the fact I implied he is an immature child that is pranking his wife. Again. 

“I have a list of my own, but I’m sure you already know that, and one thing on my list was to hear you call me a scoundrel as it is my favourite word to hear from you. Your filthy mind truly amazes me.” 

I twist and face him, eyes narrowed. “My filthy mind? You are ridiculous Thomas. Why did you make that list?”

“I wanted to understand your obsession with them. I think I do now.” 

I roll my eyes at him but all he does is press a kiss to my forehead. Both of his hands rest on my hips again and he gives me a soft smile. “My love, may I kiss you, and complete something off both our lists?” he asks, moving his head so it rests on mine. My absurd husband makes it hard to be mad at him, or even annoyed. Even though this began with him mocking my habit of making lists, even unintentionally mocking me, i have to admit this has been a fun game and knowing my husband he will keep doing this now as ways to distract us from cases or just to kiss me. Even though he can kiss me at any point now. 

I lean into him, pressing my lips to his and I feel him smile into our kiss. His hands reach up and cups my cheek, his other tightens slightly on my waist. My own hands rest against his chest as he deepens the kiss. We stay like that, lost in each other until our cat nudges my back making me jump. I curse as Thomas laughs at me, sir Isaac finding his way onto my lap. I scratch the little pests' ears. 

“I finished my list before you, I kissed you, you called me a scoundrel and I am always a god amongst men.” he winked at me, picking up sir Isaac and moving to sit across from me. I twist, looking at my own list. He out-does himself sometimes with his dramatic nature. 

“Thomas, neither completed the list, I can never stop your immature games, and you cannot be a god amongst men. It's absurd you even put that.”

“I can, love, and this wasn’t immature, it was-”

“Foolish? Childish?” 

“Okay fine, it was a tad childish, I never meant to mock your list making by the way, I just thought it would be fun and to prove I can make lists to you.” 

“It wasn’t just a tad childish, but Thomas love, I know you can make them you just choose not to, and there are more things we can do than make lists for each other. We needn’t make lists just to kiss each other. We’re married, if you want to kiss me, kiss me.” 

He smirks, the cresswell charm in full effect, “you are obsessed with kissing me.” he leans over the table and kisses me. 

The rest of the week follows similar patterns, sir isaac always interrupting our kisses, Thomas being dramatic and a constant smile on both of our faces. We are both reluctant to leave, to start work again, but we pack our bags and return to our home, uncle already with a case ready for us to uncover.

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @bookscressworth @androgynousdeputylawyershoe @fandomtakeover @throneoftsc @the-hoofflepooff

(Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list)

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 46 DETAILED SUMMARY + THEORIES

This lesson’s got two locked chapters that I can’t unlock :’)

D takes them to the casino where they meet Mammon in the Lamp event outfit. When he laughs and tells them that they must have forgotten who he is if they think they can take the money MC ignores all of this to ask him wtf he’s wearing. Mammon blushes and tells them that they have no right to criticize what he’s wearing considering what they’re wearing. Then he says also Lucifer wtf happened to you!? He laughs and teases Lucifer about getting shrunk and how he could accidentally step on him and kill him rn or how Beel might eat him as a snack. I saw someone say that Mammon was a little shit who was also BabyTM and like Yess!??? I love when we get to see more of the asshole side of him specially when we already know how soft he is. Man’s an onion :’) Beel says he wouldn’t do that unless Lucifer hid inside a piece of cake and Beel swallowed him whole without realising. Lucifer, off screen: “You’d better realise I was there!” And Like??? That’s the point Lucifer wants to argue? Not the fact that he wouldn’t hide inside a cake? Mammon says whatever and that he’ll take Lucifer from them so he can have fun with his new toy anyway RIP to Mammon who dies after this lesson. “Mammon, Avatar of Greed, Appears”- gonna have Pokemon Battles from now on, I can’t believe this what this dating sim has evolved into :D Mammon uses wind to lift Lucifer up and bring him towards him. MC has a flashback to the previous night and commands Beel who transforms into a demon and whose body starts moving on its own, Beel then cancels out Mammon’s spell and uses a wind spell to send Mammon flying. Beel transforms back to his human form and is shocked by what happened. Solomon says MC did a good job commanding Beel though they weren’t able to draw out all his powers. They get the armour, which Beel thinks is too flashy but MC tells him it looks great which he is happy about. D tells them about a rumour of Satan attacking a town up north.

As they walk through the woods Lucifer talks about how much he’s gonna love beating the shit outta Mammon when he’s back to normal and waves MC off when they ask him to go easy on Mammon. Beel says that Lucifer used to be a lot nicer to Mammon in the celestial realm and how the two of them would team up to go argue with Raphael. Solomon asks if it was Diavolo who got Lucifer to change and what exactly Lucifer had to do to reach the status they now enjoy in the Devildom. Beel seems shocked at this and ask Lucifer if it’s true. He says he doesn’t remember. There’s growling & they’re suddenly surrounded by ghosts. Solomon: Oh yeah lol this is called the Black Phantom Forest. Everyone else: WHY the FUCK didn’t you say so before!? They run from the ghosts and set up camp beside a lake, MC & Beel talk. Beel says how they’ve all changed from their time in the Celestial Realm and he can’t remember when he stopped resisting the urge to constantly eat. But how somethings are still the same and how the brothers have always been together and how they always will be. He brings up the three things the butcher said to maintain a long relationship and how even though they may sometimes falter at the “respect each other” part when it comes down to it the brothers have all three things with each other (Not me sobbing like a baby. It’s the found family trope for me guys). Beel says how he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to fight Belphie if they meet him in the game and how he has so many people who he loves that he doesn’t know who to put first and that he knows many people would kill to have that kinda problem and that as both an angel and a demon he’s being lucky to have the people he loves. MC gets to hold his hand, lean on his shoulder or say nothing and guys I love Beel so much he’s just so pure god. Okay so theory part: I 100% believe (& it’s implied in canon and in the chats too) and the main reason Lucifer is so mean to Mammon now is because he’s scared if he doesn’t discipline him then Diavolo will and he’ll end up with another Lilith situation. That being said I NEED to know how Lucifer came across Mammon in the celestial realm and what he said to make Mammon so loyal to him. PLS om! Give me the boys backstory? I like to think Lucifer raised Mammon the same way Simeon is raising Luke and that’s why you can see some of Lucifer’s traits in Mammon whenever he becomes serious about something and why Mammon sometimes slips up and calls Lucifer “Dad” and why Lucifer becomes so happy about it. I also think the others would have been older than Mammon was when he first met Lucifer, when they eventually joined the family which is why they share far less traits with Lucifer and why (as far as we know) none of them have called Lucifer ‘dad”. If this is true it also brings up a real interesting dynamic between Satan and Mammon that would be useful when writing fics. You know a little deeply buried resentment and envy about Lucifer having been more of a father figure to Mammon than to the person who is technically his actual son, and since we know for a fact that right after arriving in the Devildom Lucifer starts going through an existential crisis and Mammon’s the one who steps up to look after the others I 100% believe Mammon’s the one who did most of the work in raising a newly created Satan and who taught him how to control his anger so well (cause lets be real it definitely couldn’t be any of the others) which also gives backstory to Satan’s “do you think Mammon’s actually the most decent of us” homescreen comment and more importantly adds spice to the relationship dynamic you can work with in fics.

When they wake up Beel is thankful that they didn’t get eaten. Solomon: not like you would have noticed with all the fun you had *wink wink* Lucifer: wtf Solomon:*WINK WINK* Me: bro they were just talking…  they find out game time and real world time pass differently and come across a treasure chest in the middle of their path. Solomon: Lets open it! :D Lucifer: Expect that’s definitely a trap… Solomon: Exactly! Which is why we should open it! :D MC: Lets open it! :D Lucifer: Why is the entire human species so fucking stupid!? Why were you created without any self preservation!? Who approved this!?  They find medicine, a warding bottle and cat ears. …They put Lucifer into the bottle and Lucifer’s really going through it in this huh. But opening the chest pulls up an inescapable battle with the final boss, and Satan pops up fully immersed in the villain role with an evil laugh and everything. Luci asks MC to use something from the chest and they use the cat ears and Lucifer’s disappointed when they actually work. But it only deals 222 damage to Satan’s 870k HP. Satan paralyses them all and steals bottled lucifer and calls Belphie to finish the others off. I can’t remember if I mentioned this before but how did the brothers know that Lucifer was gonna be mini before they even got home, it would’ve had to be quite a bit in advance for them to so perfectly set up everything… And you know Solomon was really determined to open that chest (I mean so was MC but the whole of season 1 was establishing that their curiosity was gonna get them killed) so…

MC tells Belphie they don’t want to fight him and Belphie says he doesn’t want to fight either but at the same time Satan agreed to give him mine lucifer for a whole day if he defeats them. Beel’s still reluctant and Belphie says Beel doesn’t have to worry cause Belphie isn’t the same small/weak person that Beel always had to protect (and holy shit I need more info on this too?). Beel eventually agrees and says that Belphie’s strong, he tells MC that they weren’t able to use his entire power against Mammon cause he was holding himself back unconsciously but that he was ready now. MC makes Beel do a bunch of wind attacks and they defeat Belphie who’s impressed. Beel says that the magic was actually MC doing it not him (even though he was the one that executed it). Belphie says he’ll join their party if MC promises him that he’ll be allowed to poke at mini luci. MC tells him there’s a damned line and he’ll have to wait his turn. Solomon wonders if MC should be going around giving the right to annoy lucifer to others but also he wants that right too. Even though Lucifer was kidnapped since he’s still in the bottle he’ll be protected so MC’s test is still ongoing. Odd that there was a bottle that would protect Lucifer should he get kidnapped in the chest that was a trap… look we all know Solomon is shady enough that he’s probably behind this right?

During dinner at a tavern the twins are sickeningly soft with each other and Solomon watches them with a smile. For the night the twins end up sharing a room with each other, with Mc and Solomon alone together. In the middle of the night MC wakes up to Solomon still up and looking sad. They ask him what’s up. He says despite how much they walked he still isn’t tired and that seeing the twins together made him lonely. Seeing how much they love and care and understand each other and how they were always together made him wish he had something similar but how when you didn’t age it was difficult to from lasting bonds like that in the human world. MC tells him that all of them care about him and he says he hopes so. Solomon: Lol just the two of us in a room in a game, wouldn’t it be crazy if we made out? MC can either kiss him or kinda stare awkwardly. If they choose the second he apologises for suddenly putting them on the spot and says he won’t try anything else. So this might be kinda an unpopular opinion and I’m genuinely really happy that the side characters are getting more screen time and development because I desperately needed that but I’m not really onboard the romancing option with them? I’m happy they’ve got their own cards now and I love the devilgram stories and romance options in them but I don’t think it makes sense in the context of the main storyline? Barbatos has almost no interaction with MC and though they haven’t shown it yet it’d be weird if he was suddenly into MC. Diavolo spent 2 whole seasons simping over Lucifer why is MC suddenly an option? Besides Diavolo always seems so lonely and I really want him and MC to be really good friends, I want Diavolo to have a friendship where there isn’t some condition that hangs over it like there is with his relationship with Barbatos and Lucifer. The same goes with Solomon. I just want him to have a good solid friendship where there isn’t expectations or power between them. He also initially only seems interested in MC for their power and as a way to train them and eventually genuinely softens up to them, Just the request to kiss seemed outta nowhere? I don’t know why but with Simeon he seems above crushes? I always imagine him seeing MC as another cute kid Lucifer picked up (despite MC being an adult) and having a sort of soft indulgent attitude towards them. I don’t know I think I just want MC to have some friends who aren’t trying to sleep with them.

Solomon is extremely chipper the next morning and Belphie grumpily makes a comment about him having fun and sdfjdvnsjdokd they just talked. Belphie uses his magic to teleport them to Satan’s castle and Beel asked why he couldn’t do that the previous night, Belphie says grumpily cause then Solomon would have missed out on the fun and Solomon agrees and THEY JUST TALKED!? Satan has managed to transform Lucifer into wolf Lucifer and is shaking his bottle hard enough to make Luci wanna puke while Lucifer asks him to stop. MC tells satan to stop and he tells them they won’t be able to defeat him cause they skipped right to the boss battle without taking the long route and levelling up. MC says they’re not gonna fight him cause this whole thing is fucking stupid. Satan says it’s not cause he’s having fun. MC gives him one of their free therapy sessions about how important the bonds between he and his brothers are and how they don’t care more about helping the brothers all get along than some stupid star. Beel comes out spitting facts, saying they all know that Satan actually cares about Lucifer and how that embarrasses him and how he needs to stop hiding it by lashing out. And how Lucifer needs to get his shit together and be honest with satan. That he needs to tell Satan that Lucifer knows he’s his own demon and a really good demon at that. Lucifer says FYI but I never said you weren’t your own great person and Satan blushes and says that unless he wants to look childish he has no option but to accept the olive branch. He tosses Luci to MC. Belphie complains about having stupid older brothers and Solomon says he’s disappointed in Satan and reveals himself as the true secret final boss and FUCK YEAH! I CALLED THAT SHIT! Kinda – I thought he might have just given them a heads up about Luci’s condition. On a different note, Satan needs serious therapy. They all do tbh.

Solomon congratulates MC on what they’ve done so far but says they still haven’t accessed Beel’s full potential and that he’ll give his ‘adorable apprentice’ one more shit at it. Solomon summons Asmo who complains about how long he was made to wait and how he nearly gave up and went to the spa and that no one likes a selfish man. Solomon tells Asmo that he can tell him all this after they get back to the real world and I genuinely want the backstory of how they met and just more about their relationship. At Solomon’s command Asmo uses charm and paralyses Beel and at MC’s Beel uses another wind attack. Asmo says he’s never seen beel do something of this calibre before and he seems more powerful, even more than he was in the celestial realm, Asmo yells at Solomon for just standing and seeming impressed instead of helping him. There’s a bright white light.

Back home with everything back to normal Beel, Lucifer and MC are hanging out by the pool. Lucifer is in an unexpectedly good mood and MC has earned a star, which glows slightly from its place on the symbol etched to the back of their hand. Inside Solomon is feeding the other brothers as punishment. Mammon is sobbing his heart out and Levi is out cold (possibly dead). Satan is given Levi’s remaining share of food and Asmo is in tears. Belphie had made a run for it the second they got home and is nowhere to be found. Solomon talks about how nice Lucifer actually is and how he really loves his brothers cause he just made Solomon make them dinner instead of punishing any of them…. Love that the canonical reason why none of these demons tell Solomon about his food and allow themselves to get tortured is cause they don’t wanna be rude and hurt his feelings. And he thought no one cared about him. If that isn’t love I dunno what is. Beel and MC take a walk while Lucifer sits by the pool and in his words basks in “their screams of agony” While blushing beel says he’s grateful for what happened and how that star is proof that they got closer. Mc can either thank him or say that the star belongs to him. I think they kiss after the second option? For the first Beel says MC’s the one who did the work of drawing out his power. Over the echoing screams from inside Beel asks if they feel like they forgot something and ndfjkfjkdjfefjkn THEY FORGOT DIAVOLO I’M!!!!???? poor baby

[savagesbonergarage]

Nightsister OC pics and backstory ❤️

So I kinda got my Nightsister oc worked out today!

Meet Eilantha!

No makeup and with makeup since I like both. :) I know her outfit is Rey’s, but it turned out to be the one I liked best after going through all of them. This was so much fun to do! I’m on mobile rn so I don’t have a link, but search ‘rinmaru star wars avatar creator’ and it should be the first result.

The nightbrother is also an oc called Sever. He’s more bulky in my head and his tattoos are different and more brown than black, but whatevs. Also he looks more like a teenager here, which is NOT the vibe, lads. Mans is in his late 20's-early 30's. 👍

I know I’m sorta biased and all since she’s mine, but I’m in love with her? I’m not a huge fan of the Nightsisters and their misandry and general terrible-ness, but this girl is the exception. 💕 Learn more about her under the cut if you’d like. :)

She was born in 46BBY, making her around 27 in the final year of the clone wars. From the time she was a youngling it was clear that she had a natural affinity for magicks and spellcasting, which allowed her to participate in more advanced rituals and rites from an early age. This inevitably caused some contention among the sisters in her age group that felt this privilege was wasted on her, and therefore she had few friends during her time within the coven. She didn’t really mind, as she preferred to spend her days on her own anyway, learning as much as she could about whatever she fancied (usually spells that piqued her interest whose texts she discreetly snuck from within the cavern).

When she wasn’t studying, she loved music - writing, playing, and singing. It wasn’t anything like the typical malicious sounds of tribal chanting and drums you’d hear from within the grotto; not that she didn’t appreciate that also as she practiced it well, but her heart leaned toward a softer, more soothing genre of arias and melodies, bordering on lullabies based on her wanderlust, and, though she’d never admit it, her loneliness.

As she reached adulthood, she underwent the trials for her dark baptism as all Sisters did, which consisted of returning from a challenging hunt to add a token from her kill to the Water Of Life, and receiving her ichor tattoos that signified her coming-of-age before being ritualistically bathed in the ominous liquid which sanctioned her as an active member of the Nightsisters.

After this, I have two different routes (or however many, depending on who I’m shipping her with at the moment 😅 bc I ship her with everyone, no lie) that I like to take with her story. The first is expanded upon in the fic by @fallenrepublick here (still my favorite thing!) where she starts sneaking away into the nightbrother village and befriends Savage and Feral before they go through Asajj’s selection trails. This is the nicer, less-traumatic arc.

This next one gets really, really dark. I'm not going to post it all here bc honestly this post doesn't need all that angst, so I'll save that for later. Essentially, I like to think that Eilantha did at one time have a nightbrother of her own (Sever) that she actually loved, rather than treated as a slave. As you can imagine it doesn't end well, but we're not gonna get into that. We'll talk about how they meet. :)

Instead of sneaking away to the village, Eilantha is pressured into conducting her own selection trails by Mother Talzin. She doesn’t inherently have any reason to object, after all, she was taught that this is was simply the way of things. Part of her even looked forward to obtaining a manservant, whose loyalty would belong to her and her alone.

Perhaps he’d be a useful asset when it came to sneaking spelltomes to and from the vaults, and maybe he’d even be the only one staying by her side while she practiced her songs. What if he’d even appreciate them? Not that he’d have much of a choice, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

From the moment she stepped foot in the village, all she could focus on was the feeling of the uneasy and fearful gazes of the men who undoubtedly knew more of what was to come than she did. She chose her roster at random, unsure of what she should have really been looking for or what she actually wanted from a servant. Even before the fighting, she knew deep down that she didn’t want to inflict any unnecessary harm on them…but why? From what she’d overheard at home, the violence was half the fun.

It wasn’t.

She evaded and blocked every blow with ease, yet avoided retaliating and taking the offensive in any manner that would prove fatal, causing the battle to go on far longer than anticipated to the point where Brother Viscus insisted that she take the next opening for the kill. With reluctance, the blade of her weapon collided with the ribs of the next brother to reveal himself a target. She watched in horror as the light faded from his hateful, reflective eyes, and she was nearly sick. She didn’t want to do it, but it had been done, and it couldn’t be undone. His body thudded against the ground and she screamed.

“Enough!”

The battlefield went silent, and as she came to her senses she attempted to save face.

“I’ll have none of them!”

Before Brother Viscus could interject with any alternative propositions, she was gone. She ran, fleeing as far away across the rocky terrain as she could. She didn’t cry; at least not until she was certain she was alone. She felt so pathetic - Nightbrothers were meant to be disposable, yet she couldn’t handle killing one. Her shame shifted into heartbreak, and she crouched low and wept for the death of the brother she’d just caused, as well as for all those who came before him. All the needless, thankless, mindless deaths of these men whose lives may not have mattered to the Sisters, but they mattered to someone.

As night fell, she trudged along the jagged landscape and thought of what explaination she’d give to Mother Talzin upon returning home. She had run in the opposite direction of where her speeder was stationed at the base of the village, so she had plenty of time to consider on the long journey back. She casually hummed a tune to herself in some meager attempt to self-soothe, which served to distract the shadow that had been trailing her for some time. The sound of a twig snapping in the rocks behind her alerted her to the presence and she confronted him.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a derogatory tone after he revealed himself.

"I'm not."

Of course not, this was his home, after all. She couldn't say the same for herself, however, she pressed him further.

"Then why are you following me? I never asked for an escort."

The amber-skinned nightbrother looked as though he were choosing his words carefully, though if his aim was self-preservation he'd done a terrible job of it.

"I saw you crying."

Eilantha was hit with a pang of embarrassment, though she feigned otherwise as her eyes met the ground.

"Well, you can forget what you saw. Now leave me alone."

She turned away, but the brother remained there in quiet contemplation before he spoke again.

"I've never seen a Sister cry. I've never seen a Sister feel."

Something about those words struck her directly in her heart. The confirmation that she was inherently considered to be a heartless monster in the view of these villagers hurt a little more than anticipated, though she had no right to refute it. No amount of apologies would ever remedy the divide that separated the Nightsisters from the Nightbrothers, regardless of how she felt. She clenched her fist as she turned to face him again.

“I said, leave me alone. Don’t make me-”

She actually choked on her words, unable to say the rest.

Don’t make me put you in your place.

Despite her partial warning, the nightbrother stepped closer. He grabbed the edge of his already tattered tunic and tore a piece of it off, inspecting it for cleanliness before holding it out to her. Eilantha froze, uncertain of what to make of this interaction.

“You aren’t done,” he explained.

She hadn’t realized that her hot tears continued pouring down her cheeks during her retort. She accepted the cloth with some reluctance, her dainty fingers lightly brushing against his as she took it and dabbed it against her wet face. He promptly turned and started walking away, as instructed. This strange...kindness, or rather, strange act of servitude via obligation perturbed the young witch, whose thoughts were now fixated solely on the zabrak male.

“Wait, Brother,” she implored.

He paused, resuming his attention to her after hearing the endearing use of “brother” from a Sister’s lips for the first time. She continued, an unusual softness in her tone.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Sever,” he revealed, “May I ask yours, Sister?”

She repeated his name in her mind, determined never to lose it.

“Eilantha.”

He did the same, only out loud. Gods, it was an enticing sound.

"Will you be returning?"

This was a question she wasn't prepared to receive, and one that she herself didn't fully know the answer to. Her reply was engineered from a concerned sigh.

"I'm not sure. It might be problematic returning to the coven empty-handed. I may come back, I may not. I don't know what the future holds."

Sever pursed his lips slightly.

"If you do find yourself here again, will you..."

He coughed into his fist and centered himself before continuing.

"Will you consider me?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his hopeful gaze, a golden yellow in the night. She had a hunch as to what he was alluding to, but a little clarification was needed.

"Consider you...?"

He swallowed, his countenance displaying concern that perhaps he was stepping too far out-of-bounds this time, but he wanted to know all the same.

"As your mate."

Eilantha clutched the piece of fabric in her hand. This man was offering himself to her. The images of all the nightbrothers staring her down when she first arrived with fear in their faces raced through her mind, revealing the dread the men felt when they were met with her kind, and yet this one was volunteering. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry, as any other Sister likely would be at a savage that dared to seek special permissions. Of course, she wasn't like that.

Imagining him as her mate, however, was certainly...something. She thought of how she would discover just how much of him was tattooed and he would learn the same of her. She could claim him right then and there if she wanted, and he would be obliged to obey. It would solve her worries about returning home if she decided on a servant after all, although, her soul was unsteady. Though she was entitled to any male she desired, she couldn't allow herself to do it. Even though this man was offering, it would weigh on her conscience knowing that even a part of him would only be with her out of fear and obligation, rather than his own free will. This nightbrother wasn't free. None of them were.

"I'll consider it," she replied genuinely.

This news seemed to please him to some extent, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of his lip.

"I'll look forward to the possibility of serving you, Sister Eilantha."

She watched as he turned a final time and disappeared further into the darkness, leaving her alone with her busied mind.

The course was set for the Nightsister temple once she finally got to her speeder, servant-less. She looked over her shoulder to see multiple pairs of glowing golden eyes quizzically prying at her in the darkness, and she smiled before taking off.

It was a long journey home, and the entire trip her mind was occupied with thoughts of the intriguing zabrak male who saw her for what she truly was. She pulled out the tattered cloth from her pocket and pressed it against her chest as the wind rushed all around her before bringing it to her lips and kissing it.

It became her greatest treasure.

That is, until she finally had the real deal in her arms months later when the separation became too much to bear, and they arranged to meet in secret during their first rendezvous of many.

Sever, my treasure.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello lovely!! I’m a sucker for Sherlock comforting John after nightmares or just ptsd episodes, and was curious if you know of any? And/or any fics where johns old shoulder injury is bothering him and Sherlock helps :) I just need all the caring fluff ☺️

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh!! Yes, I have quite a few Nightmares/PTSD fics, and I’m going to use this opportunity to update my past lists since I have a nice collection of more! As for the shoulder injury, I believe Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance has Sherlock doing that, but I can’t recall. I’ll start a separate list offline for Shoulder Injuries perhaps. Hmm. Actually, you might find some good Caring Sherlock fics on these lists:

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 2

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 3

Scars

Scars Pt. 2

Now, for the main event!! Hope you enjoy, and as always, Loves, add your own!

NIGHTMARES, PTSD, PANIC ATTACKS & MENTAL/EMOTIONAL TURMOIL Pt. 3

See also:

Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil

Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil Pt. 2

NIGHTMARES

Study in John by chappysmom (K+, 2,158 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiP, POV John, Introspection, Friendship, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, John’s Limp) – After the events of "A Study in Pink," John lies on the couch in Baker Street and thinks about the whirlwind events of the day. What is he getting himself into?

Sleepless nights by El loopy (T, 5,467 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares/Insomnia, Panic Attack, Worried Sherlock) – Sherlock has a nightmare and John wants to know what it was about. Set during season 1. Three-shot.

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

PTSD / EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

Museums and Laboratories by RhododendronPonticum (T, 3,004 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, Obsessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety/Panic Attack, Separation Anxiety, Doctor John, Co-Dependent Sherlock) – If Sherlock's kitchen was his laboratory, then his bedroom was his museum.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets,  Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[evakuality]

“A Thought Exercise” prompt fic

For this anon who sent me an angst prompt.  I don’t know how angsty it ended up, but here - this is what that prompt inspired!

It’s been tough lately to keep up a proper connection, to see Matteo as often as David would like.  Work and university have them both tied up in knots and there are just too few hours in the day.  So the time they do get to spend together is precious, held close to David’s chest and savoured.  The time is so precious, that David makes sure they spend it alone as often as he can.  And that, in hindsight, may be part of the problem.  That may be why he’s standing here staring at his boyfriend, incredulous about what he’s hearing.

David blinks, tries to process.  He’s still unsure where this is coming from.

“I love you,” he says quietly, trying to inject as much sincerity into the words as he can.  

Matteo’s lips purse together, and a shiny film gathers on the edges of his eyes as he turns his head away, clearly trying to prevent David from seeing it.  Worried now, David reaches out, but pulls back when Matteo flinches away.

“I’m not sure what’s going on here,” David says, “but I need you to understand the truth of how I feel about you.”

Shrugging, Matteo looks back at David.  His lip is pulled in between his teeth and his face has an open vulnerability playing about his eyes which is also there in the curled-in body language and the tremble in his fingers.

“Why don’t we go anywhere?” Matteo blurts out, his fingers shaking even more as he drags his gaze away from David’s.  “We never go out.”

That’s almost more disconcerting than anything else this evening.  Matteo is more of a home body than a party animal; going out has never been something he wants to do.  David blinks again.  

“You want to go out?”  

“No.  I mean, not really.  It’s just…” Matteo breaks off, his mouth twisting as he obviously tries to think his way through what to say, and his fingers catching the ends of the strings on his hoodie as he twirls them into tight knots on his knuckles.  “It’s just that you always want to just hide at home.”  He shrugs, and a quiver settles into his voice when he looks back at David.  “Are you ashamed of me?”

The bizarre sense of incredulity ratchets up, and David can’t quite hold in the disbelieving snort that pops out at the words.  Then he’s forced to watch as Matteo’s face shutters completely, every trace of hope disappearing into a look of such betrayal that it stabs something dark and painful into David’s belly.

Scrambling to reel it back in, he shakes his head.  “How can you ever think that?  I love you.”

Something small and painful unfurls onto Matteo’s face as he shakes his head in clear disbelief, making David’s heart ache with the things it says about what’s going on in Matteo’s head.  As if to confirm the thought, Matteo twists away from David’s eyes, wrapping his arms around his body.

“I don’t understand why,” he whispers.  “There’s not a lot to love about me.”

Hoping he’ll give in to touch now, David tentatively reaches out, skimming his fingers along the bare expanse of one of Matteo’s arms and down to his hand.  He doesn’t twine their fingers together the way he usually does, but Matteo also doesn’t pull away so David takes that as a sign he can keep touching.

“You’re wrong,” David says.  Matteo opens his mouth to protest, the shimmer of tears washing back into his eyes, but David smiles gently and adds, “but I know you don’t believe me right now.”

He tugs on Matteo’s hand, pulls them in the direction of the couch, and doesn’t make any further suggestion until they’re settled there.  He doesn’t speak again, lets the tension seep out of Matteo’s body and feels the way it starts to slide, slumping into David’s, his head falling to rest heavily on his shoulder.  Once his breathing has settled, and the slight hitch in his low murmurs is fading, David lets his lips skim over Matteo’s hair.  It elicits a hum that’s maybe not quite content, but at least is acknowledging the connection.

“I felt like that too, you know?” David says quietly.

“Hmmm?”

“Like there’s nothing to love about me, like it’s impossible that you can.  That once you realise that, you’ll leave.”

Matteo’s fingers tighten in his own as if to negate that thought, and David smiles.  Even when he feels this way, Matteo is still so caring of others.  Of David.

“You want to know how I got over that feeling?”

There’s a small huff of laughter at that, barely there and barely amused, but enough.

“You’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Yep,” David agrees cheerfully.  “It was my film class.”

“Your film class?”

Matteo sounds interested despite himself and David rejoices.  Interest is better than whatever was going on in his head a few minutes ago.  So he settles in, fingers running small circles on Matteo’s hand, and smiles fondly in memory.

“It was this exercise we had to do.  Some asshole who thought he was being so smart, pushed back at the professor's comment that we should write what we know.  He said he wasn’t an evil overlord so how could he possibly ‘write what he knows’ about a character like that.  And she just stared him down for a minute, then smiled.”

David shudders as he remembers that moment.  She’d been so clearly delighted, it was obvious that she’d been waiting for some guy to do exactly that.  She’d turned, and with studied nonchalance had sat down on the edge of the desk, swinging one leg as she examined the students in front of her.  David snorts a little as he remembers.

“She basically told us we could get inside a character’s head.  Any character’s head.  And we all expected some sort of ‘imagine the scenario’ sort of thing.  But no.  She was much meaner than that.”

That earns him a soft chuckle from Matteo, who looks a little better now.  His eyes are brighter and he’s not so curled in on himself.  David high fives himself internally and goes on with his story; as much as Matteo is clearly invested now, he still doesn’t appear keen to do any talking.

“What we had to do was describe ourselves.  But not from our own point of view.  It had to be from the outside, and we had to describe ourselves as if we were in love with ourselves.”

“That doesn’t sound so hard,” Matteo says, his voice bemused, and David laughs.

“So you could do it, could you?  Right now, you could describe yourself in loving terms?”

“Mmmmmm,” Matteo says, and it’s not clear if it's in agreement or not.  So David presses a kiss to his hair.

“I hated it,” he says quietly, letting the sincerity bleed into his voice.  “I was all up in my head about how my body didn’t look right to me, how shitty it is that I run away all the time, how I’m unloveable and an asshole, and I don’t deserve anything good.”

“But that’s not true!” Matteo protests, sitting up a little to stare at David in obvious consternation.

David shrugs.  “That’s where my head was.”  

He shakes his head as he thinks back to the exercise.  It had been hard to even start on how to talk about himself in that sort of way.  It had felt so unnatural, even trying to distance himself by starting with a third person attempt with David is a young man who… 

He smiles again, pats Matteo’s hand.

“It took me a while, but I figured out in the end what I had to do.  I had to get into your head.  I had to think about what you see in me, what you like about me.  You’re the one who loves me.”

“I do,” Matteo agrees, softly.  “There’s so much to you that I love.”  

“I kind of got there in the end,” David agrees.  “I worked out what you might say if you were asked the question.  That’s what the point was, obviously.  To get into someone else’s thought process, to make it seem natural.”

“Mmmm,” Matteo says, and this time it’s obviously agreement.  “But I don’t get what it has to do with me.”

David grins.  He can hear the reluctance in Matteo’s voice, because as much as he’s protesting, he knows what David is going to suggest.

“Yeah you do.”

Slumping again, his mouth twisting up into an awkward pursed smudge, Matteo sighs.

“I don’t know how to start.  It’s not easy.”

Kissing him again, David snorts softly.  “Yeah I know.  I had to do it, remember.  Do you know how hard it was to say how sexy I am?”  He can feel the blush heating his cheeks, but it has the desired effect as Matteo lets out a small giggle.

“You think I think you’re sexy?”

“I know you think I’m sexy.  You say it all the time, when we’re--”

“Okay, I get the picture,” Matteo says, pushing David in an approximation of their usual teasing behaviour.  

It’s working, this thing David is doing, and he’s grateful.  He knows he’s going to have to revisit the ‘staying home’ thing, the way he craves Matteo all to himself, and the way that’s affected Matteo’s frame of mind.  But for now, this is more important.  Getting Matteo to see himself the way David does; that’s the priority.  The rest can wait.

“So,” David says, pushing at Matteo until he’s sitting more upright and David can pull his legs over his own and look down into that beloved face.  “Now you try.  Think about yourself the way I think of you.  Remember, I love you and I’d never say some of the shit about you that you were trying with earlier.”

Matteo rolls his eyes at that, but obligingly mimics zipping his mouth.  He settles back then, his hands resting on David’s on his leg, a slight tremble in the fingers the only reminder that this isn’t just some easy thought exercise.

“I don’t know.  I guess… you like my hair?” he suggests, half questioning.

“I do,” David agrees.  “What do I like about it?”

Smirking, Matteo taps his fingers with his own.  “Playing with it,” he says.  “You like that it’s silky, that it’s different to yours.”

“Mmmmm,” David says, reaching out to ruffle it, and to feel that silkiness between his fingers.  “It’s so soft,” he purrs.  “Not like mine, this … this stuff.”  He indicates the riot of curls on his own head.

“Hey!” Matteo laughs, reaching out to feel David’s in his turn.  “Don’t diss this hair.  I happen to love it.”

“Yeah, I know.  That was one of the things I ended up with in my description,” David says quietly.  “You like that it has weight, that it feels solid between your fingers.  It grounds you, gives you something tangible to hang onto.”

Matteo blinks at him.  “You came up with that?  That’s like poetry or something.”

David’s heart swells a little at the compliment.  That’s one thing Matteo does so casually and so easily: lets David know how smart and creative he finds him.  He needs to find a way to get Matteo to admit that to himself as well.  There’s so much David loves about him, and part of him thrills that he gets to explore it in this way, together.

“Okay, mr. poet, now it’s your turn.  What does yours do for me?”

Matteo swallows, reaches up to touch his own strands, ponders them as they run through his fingers.  “It’s a bit like water,” he says slowly after a minute.  “Like it can take you away with it.  Like you’re running away, but staying here at the same time.”

David smiles.  “See, this isn’t so hard, is it?”  He draws Matteo back into his body, wraps his arm around him, and murmurs into his shoulder.  “Now, you get to tell me how sexy you are.”

Matteo laughs, pushes back at him, his eyes much brighter and happier than they were at the start of this conversation.  “Asshole.  You set that one up!”

David doesn’t deny it.  He watches Matteo's face carefully as he thinks his way through what David might say about him.  It takes time, and it’s slow, but they have that time.  He settles in to listen as Matteo hesitantly works through the exercise, sees it working for Matteo the way it did for himself.  Sees the slow blooming of Matteo’s own self-love coming out one petal at a time.  He offers his own insights, in exchange for Matteo’s vulnerability as he does this.  He watches it all, and falls more in love.  Watches as Matteo does the same when David offers his insights into himself.  

It didn’t start well today.  There’s so much still to unpack, so much they still need to talk about, but David can’t regret getting to this point.  He loves this boy, and there’s something so profound in watching that boy fall in love with himself.

“I love you,” David says.

Matteo smiles.  “I know.”

[paintalyx]

hey can you maybe recommend some of your favourite fics please!!

aaaah, i'm a little behind on asks because of college but i saw this and i couldn't help but scramble to respond as soon as i found the time!!!! i'm super flattered that you're asking me for fic recommendations, but you didn't specify any fandoms or genres so i can't guarantee that any of these will be your cup of tea (feel free to shoot me another ask if you'd like to elaborate though!!!!). i'll try to be as diverse as an unapologetic angstlord can be, so here we go:

(note: while i did my best to add cws, it's still possible that something slipped past me, so please be mindful. as a rule of thumb, i'm not going to add warnings for stuff that's already depicted in canon material)

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campfire in your chest (haikyuu!!, canonverse, tsukkiyama-main & kagehina-side)

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he's probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he's at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

four tags for you: pining, slow-burn, friends to lovers and unresolved sexual tension. this one's a classic, an old favourite of mine. i remember reading it on lunch breaks in high school while daydreaming about my crush and getting frustrated with tsukishima because "dammit, at least one of us needs to get it together and that won't be me anytime soon". also, once your done with reading this, please do yourself a favour and spare some time to check out the companion piece to this fic, "stay, stay, stay", which can be summed up simply as "meanwhile, kagehina".

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a soft place to fall (jojo's bizarre adventure: vento aureo, canon divergence, narancia/trish); cw: major character death

“This is my wound, too,” Narancia softly says, eyes shadowed by so many dark lashes. He presses down over her pulse, and Trish’s heart jumps to meet it. “And this is my heartbeat. I can be brave because you’re brave.”

In the ten days between Corsica and Sardinia, Trish learns about her new power, reflects on the past, and finds her reasons.

this deserves so much attention!! i love the writing style, the character interactions— everything just feels special and different! it's been a hot minute since i watched part 5, but i have distinct and fond memories of reading this fic. it really did trish's character justice and, as a sweet bonus, it successfully got me hooked on this adorable pairing.

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count the days until they blur, then keep on counting (mob psycho 100, canon divergence, gen); cw: torture, child abuse, imprisonment, starving

What Teruki wanted was power, right? What he wanted was to hurt people? Even if he didn't, he's got it now.

okay, this *may* seem bad, but it's hands down one of my all time favourite reads, not just as a fanfic. it has a happy end (worry not!), reigen being a reluctant disaster dad and teru— god, i love the way he thinks, feels, *copes* and changes as a person over the course of this fic. it shows all sides of him, the good, the bad and the ugly. he tries, he struggles, he relapses and recovers. some works just stick with you forever, and i'd be lying if i said that this one didn't change my life. like, i thought that it was the bee's knees the first time i read it and i was so mad that it had to end that i talked my friend's ear off about how unfair it was (though upon re-reading, when i was older and capable of understanding things a little better, i decided that the ending was perfect as it was). it's definitely not a work that i would recommend to someone sensitive, but i think i've established myself as someone who enjoys meaningful angst.

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storm shelter (genshin impact, canon compliant, gen); cw: animal death

Three different times, over the years, Diluc and Kaeya are trapped together in the snow.

i'm a sucker for unconventional sibling dynamics and messy, conflicted feelings and this fic *provides*. it's clear that diluc and kaeya care for each other deeply, but they're both stubborn dumbasses about it (mihoyo, let these two talk again, i'm begging you). though the scenario in each snippet is somewhat similar, pov shifts to kept things fresh and prevented the story from becoming repetitive.

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being a wingman is a full time job (genshin impact, canon compliant, chiluc)

“What are you doing in Mondstadt?”

“You didn’t show up this week!” Childe says. “Aether brought Hu Tao instead. She really handed it to me, but it just wasn’t the same.”

“You…” Diluc stops. “You came all the way to Mondstadt just because I didn’t show up?”

Oh?

-

Kaeya discovers Diluc has a crush and, despite not being on the best of terms with his estranged brother, takes it upon himself to be the ultimate wingman.

this isn't among my favourite pairings for either party, but rumour says that if you say "oh, chiluc is just a crackship" enough times, you'll start shipping it for real so here we are. boy, where do i start?? a lighthearted, humorous fic every once in a while is good for the soul, basically a requirement. obvious idiot/oblivious idiot is a trope that i don't think i'll ever get tired of, but making the entire story be told from wingman's pov adds some extra spice to it.

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a cheap imitation (durarara, canonverse, shizaya); cw: graphic depictions of violence and gore

“Attached to your neck is a collar that will inject a poison into your jugular vein two days from now. Forcibly removing the device will also trigger the poison. Somewhere on this island is the antidote.”

His hands reached up to his neck and he felt the cool metal of the collar.

“Live or die. Make your choice.”

god. these two are so disgusting and problematic, i love them. this fic pulls no stops. the author really looked at these two dumbasses and said "yeah, the only way they'd ever get along realistically is in a life or death situatio— wait," and we gotta appreciate that. well-thought-out survival stories are a very specific niche that i've always enjoyed, so adding familiar characters into the mix can only get me more intrigued. author also snatches all my uwus for appealing to my inner neat-freak and consistently finding different ways to give the boys hygienic products. if you want drama, tension and survival with some humour sprinkled in for the ~flavour~, this is a perfect read!

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i admit i got a little carried away, but honestly??? who wouldn't when talking about something as wonderful as taking something that someone has poured their heart and soul into adding onto it out of love and passion??? i'm totally setting myself up for psychoanalysis with these recs, but tastes are subjective. i hope you'll find something of interest!! ^^