#can you tell the only idea i had in mind when writing this was to have them kiss in the end

[theostrophywife]

Overstimulation w Theo or Mattheo soon pls??

— play with fire.

NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: play with fire by sam tinnesz.

author’s note: happy new year my darlings! please accept my little gift to you in the form of jealous! mattheo.

anger.

it was such a volatile thing — even the smallest spark could light a fire. too little and it barely kept you warm. too big and it consumed everything it touched. the secret, as it was for all things, was about finding balance.

you thought you were doing a rather fine job of teetering that fine line as mattheo stalked you from across the room. there was something sickeningly sweet about watching the flames burn in your enemy's eyes, the hatred and loathing reserved only for you simmering in his gaze as you perched yourself on his best mate's lap.

"you're playing with fire, y/n." theo stated with an amused smirk.

"maybe," you agreed, purposely ignoring mattheo's pointed glare. there was anger burning within him, that much was clear, but underneath all that hatred was something darker, something more dangerous. desire. "but i'm a gryffindor. I can handle a little heat."

you had no idea how much you'd come to regret that later.

"how many times do I have to teach you this lesson, hm?" mattheo growled as he backed you against the wall. his fist wrapped around your throat, squeezing the breath out of your lungs while you looked up at him.

"as many times as it takes for it to stick," you responded with a cheeky smirk.

mattheo's gaze darkened. "you'll fucking regret that, princess."

without warning, mattheo picked you up and deposited you on the bed. you blinked, tracking his movements in the dark as he shed his clothes. "this is theo's bed," you noted.

"isn't this where you hoped you'd end up tonight after crawling into my best mate's lap like the little slut that you are?" mattheo spat as he hovered at the edge of the bed, his fingers curling around your ankles before he yanked you towards him.

"it was just a bit of fun," you said sweetly. "don't tell me you're jealous, riddle."

"me? jealous of nott?" mattheo sneered. "don't make me fucking laugh, y/n."

"why wouldn't you be?" you mused, cocking your head at the furious man above you. "i've heard the rumors, you know. the girls in this school are terrible gossips and word in the castle is that theo has a big dick. I wouldn't mind taking him for a ride —"

you gagged as mattheo shoved his fingers in your mouth, effectively shutting you up. "the only one you'll be riding tonight is me." tears welled up in your eyes, but you couldn't deny the heat zipping through your veins like molten gold. you loved it when mattheo was like this — possessive and territorial and utterly unhinged. "now take your fucking clothes off and sit on my cock like the good little slut that I know you are."

twenty minutes later, you were on the verge of tears as you bounced on mattheo's lap, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as he fucked up into you. his fingers left bruises on your hips from how rough and brutal the angry sex was, but still you savored every second of it.

"that's right," mattheo said meanly as he squeezed your tits. "you're all bark and no bite, hm? crying on my cock while I split you apart. it's fucking pathetic, princess."

your pussy squeezed at the demeaning words, the head rush making you feel dizzy as your release came closer and closer. "I can feel you squeezing me. this is what you wanted all along, isn't it? you play your little games to make me angry so that you'll end up screaming underneath me."

"n—no—"

"don't lie to me, princess. you love it when I fuck you like I hate you." you moaned as mattheo thrusted upwards, making you see stars. "you're such a fucking brat, but don't worry. i'll fuck that attitude right out of you."

you keened as his long, slender finger circled your puffy clit, urging you towards the edge of the cliff of your release. a cry bubbled up in your throat as mattheo made you cum, his groans and curses sounding garbled as your eyes rolled and your toes curled.

before you could come down from the high, mattheo flipped you onto your back and draped your legs over his shoulders. your vision was spotty, static making your brain fuzzy as he slid inside of you again, thrusting in and out of your sensitive walls. mattheo grabbed your chin and forced you to look down, directing your attention to where your bodies met. his hard cock slid all the way out, coated with your release.

"see that? you talk up such a big game, but at the end of the night this is what it all comes down to." mattheo said, teasing his tip in and out of your sensitive pussy. "watch, princess. watch this greedy pussy take my cock."

"mattheo," you whined, pushing his hips back. "i'm so sensitive, please..."

"too fucking bad," he responded as he pinned your wrists above your head. "you should've thought of that before making me fucking angry."

all thoughts were wiped clean from your mind as mattheo set a punishing pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the dungeons as you moaned and screamed his name. as much as you hated him, you couldn't deny the fact that he knew your body better than you knew it yourself, because it was only a matter of minutes before you were cumming again, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

mattheo yanked your legs apart and licked your pussy, slurping and gulping down your juices while you thrashed underneath him. when you tried to squirm away from him, he held your hips down and circled your clit with his tongue, making out with your pussy desperately like he wanted to devour you whole. you keened, half delirious from the pleasure of it all.

"s'too much I need a break — please, I need —"

mattheo chuckled darkly, your cum dripping down his handsome face. he curled his delicious fingers inside of you, touching that spongy spot that seized your body from head to toe.

"aw, baby, I don't give a fuck what you need. you'll take what I give you. over and over again. until you get it through that pretty head of yours who you really belong to."

[dinsbeskar]

Ran To The Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

...he was waiting

When all things must end, what does your heart tell you? And will you listen?

Sequel to Shelter In The Storm; finale in the series // AO3 Link incoming

Soundtrack: Through Glass by Stone Sour (I love an encore. We've used it before and I'll use it again!!), Die With A Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, When It's All Over by RAIGN, Sinnerman (Nina Simone's version is the best but also Iyeoka does a banging cover; this is where our title comes from), Kiss Me Harder by Jordan Fiction, Ain't No Grave (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens

A/N: please enjoy the final chapter of Sauron and our reader!! It won't be the last I write of them, but it is their final story chronologically.

idek guys, apparently when the world is ending, these two fuck.

for real, all your support has meant so much to me, this fic has been a labour of love, ngl, and all your feedback and ideas and likes and reblogs have contributed so much, you have no idea. Thank you so much, I appreciate all of you 💜

Warnings: 18+ only!! Smut, angst, tiny wee bit of fluff?? Canon ending, kinda, gratuitous smut, like why are they tearing each other's clothes off now?? Come on guys. P in V sex, bitey!Sauron (man's vampire side kinda comes out in this lmao), blood, mark_me_down_as_scared_and_horny.meme, subterfuge, we moving in the shadows, canon death lmao listen I warned you (but it's okay!!)

Word Count: 5k!!

"I have to go, Mithrandir, my fate is his, remember?"

"It does not have to be so," the old wizard says sagely, knowing your mind is made up. "You have suffered enough, they will not have you share in his punishment too."

You nod, but your heart wants what it wants, and it wants him. It aches for him as it always has.

"Deep down, I think I always knew, regardless of any good I have done to outdo him, I knew it would be the two of us at the end." You won't cry, your tears are long spent, but something in the wizard's sympathy pricks your tear ducts, and you have to turn away.

"Don't tell the others. At least not until I am far enough away. They won't understand."

He grasps your hands, one over the other, and gives you one final approving nod.

"I will do what I can for you, Amarië."

You share one last sombre look, before you take off at a gallop, through the broken gates of Minas Tirith to your doom.

~

The tower is deserted. The entirety of Barad-Dûr seems to have emptied onto the ashen fields before the Black Gate, not a single orc in sight as you stroll right in.

You can feel him now, stronger than ever in the back of your mind.

Úthaessel... you hear your name as if on the wind, a breath in your ear, and you shiver. Long has it been since he has called you his temptation.

"I'm coming for you, husband, are you ready for me?" You cannot help but challenge him, now in the final hours of these dark days. They have to be, or all your suffering would have been for naught.

A large iron-wrought door falls ajar to your left and you pull it open with all your might. The corridor behind it is dark, but as if he heard you wish for light, the torches on the walls set ablaze all at once.

"Thank you, love," you mutter under your breath; the flame nearest you seems to flicker in response.

Now that you know he is here, a power still to be reckoned with, you are more nervous than you ever thought you would be. You grip your sword pommel, more out of habit than any thought of using it. After all, what use has a sword ever been against his sorcery?

The door at the end is grander than the rest, polished with refined edges that the other metalwork in the tower lacks. It more closely resembled something you'd have seen in Eregion, all those centuries ago. This is the one, you realise. He is behind it, and you have no idea what you will find.

Is he confined to twisted black armour, or perhaps something more wraith-like will greet you? You had vowed to him once that you would always want him, unconditionally love him however he came to you, and your heart aches in remembrance for those golden days when you could make such promises without any thought as to how you might be tested later.

Even as you stand outside, holding your breath like you clutch your sword in your hand, he plucks the notes of your soul as effortlessly as when you first met, unseen but perceived in the melody of your enjoined fëar.

You hold the smooth, curving handle for a moment, take a deep breath, and swing it open.

The walls are lined with bookshelves beyond count, and there is a tiny, softly-lit reading nook by the window. It is undisturbed, just as you left it when you undertook your journey with the Fellowship. You ache to sit down, to take a book and just forget. However-

"That is not the page I left it on," you smile, rolling your eyes. "You're getting sloppy, husband of mine."

His attention to detail is actually superb, but you can't resist teasing him for the tiny clues that immediately stand out.

"This cushion is more worn at home. I sit more on its left than the right, this one is practically new. I might have to take it with me when I leave." You cannot help but mock him, hoping for him to reveal himself.

"Somewhere a little more familiar then..." His dulcet tones startle you, as you feel hot breath on your neck; you turn around, blade at the ready, but hear only distant laughter in response.

As you get your bearings once again, golden sunlight streams in through large windows, cushions and blankets strewn everywhere as you once liked in your apartments in Eregion.

"I always liked that bed. Never did find one more comfortable, except perhaps in Imladris. I suppose you wouldn't know." You recall how he had always remarked on the softness of your bed, delighted in laying there for hours with you; twisting the knife about these lost centuries has the desired effect.

"So what surroundings would my darling wife prefer? Perhaps... ah-"

You blink and the room has opened up into a forest glade, rays of sunlight brushing your temples through the trees, rushing water at your back.

"Is this better?"

A tall figure wreathed in golden light emerges from the brush, and your heart wrenches, skipping a beat as it did when you first laid eyes on him.

He looks just as he did on that warm lazy evening, when the world was young and you were innocent.

"This is cruel, even for you."

He cocks his head and looks down at you, having closed the gap between you so swiftly you swear you had no time to escape him; that is what you tell yourself anyway, as his hand wraps around yours so sweetly, so delicious in his gentle touch, that you cannot break away.

"Never, never to you." Gods, he is so tender, he almost makes you forget why you are here, what is taking place right outside.

"Your cruelest torments were reserved for me, or have you forgotten?"

A shiver runs down your spine as he reaches out and tucks your loose hair behind your ear.

"We do not recall these past centuries the same way."

"We never did. What with you being a power-hungry megalomaniac."

His nostrils flare but his smile intensifies, chilling you in the most conflictingly delicious way.

"I promised I would never leave you, and I kept that promise. Even when you did not reciprocate." He almost seems to scold you, the smile never leaving his face but not quite reaching his eyes either.

"I ran across Middle Earth to be rid of you, but perhaps I was too subtle."

"I gave you everything, and you abandoned me!" He raises his voice in indignation, the first sign of a crack in his facade.

"I abandoned you because you gave me everything! The moment you made the rings, what little hope I had in us vanished. You gave me everything I never wanted, and once you put that ring on my finger, you robbed me of a life free of you."

His face hardens into an ugly grimace, an expression not entirely at home on the face he has chosen; never an unkind word was spoken between the two of you before you knew who he was. Perhaps that was always the problem.

"Everything I have done was for you. They are a pair, our Rings, you were meant to join me!"

"I wasn't talking about the two, but of the rest. You'll never learn! That by needing to control Middle Earth, it slipped through your fingers as if it were sand."

"The battle is not decided yet." His smug expression churns an anger in your stomach that spreads through your entire being, limb by limb, until you want to rail and scream and curse.

Instead you collect yourself.

"I thought you perceived all from up here. Do you truly not know what awaits you?" Now it is your turn to be smug.

That delicious tic in his jaw jumps again.

"The plot to destroy my Ring? How could I not, you've hardly been subtle, my love. And you forget a crucial detail." He says, taking your hand on which your gifted ring shines in the illusory sunlight.

"Subtlety was never my strong suit." You shrug. "And you're right. Though perhaps, my love," your tone becoming cutting, "you should take a closer look."

His smirk turns sour, becomes a glare of wrath, betrayal writing itself across his handsome features.

"When?" He asks, looking down at you, holding your hand so tightly it hurts. "When did you swap them out?"

"So you don't perceive everything then." You can't help but smile.

The final detail in your plans had worked. With Elrond's help and the gifts of his finest blacksmiths, you had managed to forge an exact replica of your Ring, smuggling the real one to Frodo before he split from the company.

"Keep it secret. Keep it safe." You had said to the hobbit all those months ago; it was imperative that no-one knew yours too was headed to Mount Doom.

You realise with a tinge of sadness that you would never get to thank Frodo for all of his trials in getting it to the mountain.

"You really didn't notice, every time we spoke. I was sure you would, was terrified in fact. That's why-"

"You weren't sleeping." His jaw is set and his eyes are hard; his anger is palpable now, you could cut through it with a knife.

"I was sure you would realise. After all, you did always have such attention to detail. I guess being trapped in a tower for millennia might drive one to distraction, though." You should stop mocking him, but all of your plans coming to fruition was too delicious a victory.

All the scenic trappings he has conjured disappear, and are replaced with a terribly familiar sight.

Dust and smoke fill the air, seige horns bellow outside, and the ground shakes violently. The razing of Eregion, the event that broke your relationship.

"Sauron, enough!"

His face twists. "I never liked the way that name sounded on your lips."

"I never liked the way it tasted."

Thousands of years have passed since this day, but you would never forget the ice cold fear in your veins, and the white hot shame of knowing it was your beloved who had brought your city to ruin.

Visions come unbidden to your mind's eye, memories of him rutting into you like a wild animal, uncaring of the battle outside, of who might see or hear. You remember telling him no, as your body screamed yes, as he delved into your mind, soul, cunt, and claimed you again and again as the battle raged on, until you were a shaking, whimpering mess, begging him to just take you one more time.

"They told me I had atoned enough for your sins; that I could be free of you. But I knew there was no freedom in Valinor that would taste as sweet as bringing about your doom myself."

"Glad to hear you still think of me, even as you avoided my attentions." His charming smile does nothing but infuriate you.

Well. Not quite nothing.

You cross the space between you, reaching up for him, his face already lowering to yours as you dance to the same beat you always have endured.

His lips on yours feel like a blessing and a curse, your hearts finally beating as one after an age apart. Your soul soars, entwined with his, your fëar revitalised simply by your proximity, by enjoining yourself with him again.

He groans, low in his throat, reaching for you, entangling himself in you, refusing to be parted from you once more.

Questing fingers slip under your waistband, one hand working to remove your belt as the other delves for the hot wet prize he has been denied for so long.

In the back of your mind, a tiny voice reminds why you're here, why you haven't been here for an age, why you shouldn't let him ruin you again-

"I've missed you." His voice, low in your ear, sends arousal pooling in your core, a throbbing in your clit that you can no longer ignore, and you can't help but arch into him, pressing against him to kiss him harder.

He picks you up effortlessly, coaxing your legs to wrap around his hips, before slamming you against some solid surface that feels most likely like a wall, not that it matters now.

You're already stripped below the waist, you don't even recall how he did it, the urgent need coursing through the pair of you like nothing you've felt in thousands of years.

His fingers at your clit anchor you to reality, so in danger of floating away and letting him finally claim you as his Queen.

His eyes are black, dark veins in the sockets like the tendrils of his power that wrap around your heart and pull you to his will.

"You want this as much as I do." He murmurs, his teeth worrying the sensitive pointed tip of your ear.

It feels like worship, it feels like having the world in the palm of your hand, it feels like home.

Your eyes fall closed as he gathers your wetness, smearing it on his length, stroking it firmly as he takes you in.

"Look at me." His hand on your chin tilts your head to face him as you force your eyes open, fixing your gaze on his mouth as he licks his fingers clean.

"You've missed me." His self-satisfied smirk and heavily lidded eyes should irritate you, but it only drives you further into his arms, heat pooling in your core as you roll your hips against his.

"Of course I have. I love you, I miss you, I want you-" your desperate ramblings are cut off as he claims you, burying himself to the hilt, his teeth on your neck.

"Please... please, love." You don't know what you're begging for, your mind clinging to any semblance of logic and reason, but he knows what you want, has always known your deepest darkest desires, and loved you all the more for them.

His teeth on your neck sink into tender flesh, sharp pain giving way to bliss, rivulets of blood running red down your collarbone, his tongue chasing every drop.

The dull bite of his fingernails in your back mixed with the sharpness of his teeth penetrating your skin, the burn of his cock inside you, seemingly growing larger, harder with every thrust, as Sauron gives into his more bestial nature; after denying yourself for so long, one last time with your husband feels like paradise.

An age apart can only be satisfied by fucking you senseless; he needs to feel all of you, needs to you to feel all of him, needs to consume and be consumed.

Ever the wordsmith, but he isn't sure he could ever say it aloud, just how much he needs you, how much he's missed you; but you know because you feel it too, as your souls sing the harmony only the two of you can hear.

You can feel the tower shake, but perhaps it's only your husband's desperate thrusts inside you.

He's so focused on your pleasure, on taking what he needs from you, that for a moment, just a moment, his mask slips.

Your skin crawls, your limbs shake, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you.

It isn't that he isn't beautiful. He is, terribly so.

You were the first and only being to set eyes on his true form after the fall of Númenor, and it comes as no surprise now, but somehow you had forgotten, or blocked out, the striking nature of his appearance.

To look upon him is to know the sublime. Beauty and terror in one visage, dreadful to behold but captivating.

It is only for a moment, but it shakes you to your core, and he pulls away, leaving you breathless, your blood running cold in your veins.

"Love-" you begin to call after him but he turns on you, hand at your throat so quickly, so close to dragging you up the wall by the neck, your hearts racing.

"How can you call me that? After that- after what you just saw?" He growls into your neck, burying his face in your hair, nose at your jaw, anything but precious eye contact.

"Do you think me so fickle, so shallow, that I would be daunted by your darkness? I see you. After all this time, I see you, for what you truly are. No more deception, no pretty disguise. I promised you once I would never care what form you took. I keep my promises, love."

He kisses you hard, running his hand down your back, as the other grips your hair and pulls your head back, baring your throat.

"Show me."

His teeth falter on your neck, as your whisper reaches his ear. He regards you with as much softness as he can muster, letting his deception melt like iron in the forge, remade anew.

No pretty face, no gorgeous facade to hide behind.

You feel like your heart might beat out of your chest to join his, cold terror washed away by the heat in your core and the yearning in your heart.

He lets you drink him in, your fingers gingerly tracing old scars on his deathly pale skin.

"Is this what you wanted, wife of mine?" For the first time in an age, he sounds uncertain, a tiny tremor in his voice.

Anyone else might have missed it. But you know him too well.

You can only nod, melting into his embrace once more, drawing out the inevitable as he rolls his hips into yours once more.

A piercing shriek overhead, coming from somewhere close to the tower, distracts you long enough to gather your senses, even as he is wrapped around you, blood and fire and ash just outside.

"Surely you must know it is all in vain." You manage to choke out, his cock leaving little room for the air in your lungs.

"What do you mean, darling wife?" He draws back to regard you, still convinced of his triumph. "I see no victorious party yet. Half a day and your beloved free peoples will be under my rule. There is no will mighty enough to challenge me."

He angles his hips just right to make you see stars on every thrust, and before long, you're clenching around him, his own peak following yours in quick succession.

You're starved of breath but you lean your forehead against his and whisper, "Except mine. Even now, you are blind to what is happening on your doorstep."

His power was often difficult for you to use, to control, but you had centuries to learn how to wield it like a sword and shield. And a door opens both ways. With him inside your mind, you could step inside his, and use his Eye to watch for Frodo undetected.

His eyes widen as he realises far too late. He sends out his ringwraiths but it is for naught. The Ring falls into the fiery chasm from which it was made, and just like that, it is over.

He reaches for you, and without any thought of doing otherwise, you let him embrace you one final time as you both go to meet your fates.

~

When you wake, there is nothing. No up, no down, no light, no dark. It is, to say the least, disorienting. After a while in your own head, you begin to sense movement, glimpse shadows out of the corner of your eye, and some sweet song echoes far off, the like of which you have never heard.

A warmth begins to flow in your fingers, as you regain your sensation, sitting up slowly to take in your surroundings.

A hand on your shoulder warns you to take it slowly, and you look around, unflinching but curious. Whoever it is, they mean you no harm; somehow, this place feels familiar.

It takes you a moment, a century, you can't be sure, but your surroundings come into focus, and the being beside you helps you to your feet.

She is beautiful, like nothing you've ever seen. A sheer veil adorned with tiny shimmering crystals falls across her perfect face, making her appear as if-

"She who weeps." You exhale slowly, in disbelief.

Her smile is so radiant, you can hardly believe she is known for her tears.

"You would know me best of all. It's why I was chosen to greet you, to take you where you need to go." Her voice passes straight through you, soothing your aching bones, washing away your grief.

Nienna stands and takes your hand, helping you to your feet. Guardian of grief and pity, it is only right for her to meet you at the end.

"So these are the Halls we are promised after death. Shame." She looks at you questioningly and you shrug. "After all this time, I was hoping to see-"

You cannot finish that sentence. You have arrived in Valinor, you have been granted entrance to these sacred Halls, against all odds, and yet your heart still clings to him.

It is as if she reads your mind. She probably does, now you stop to think.

"You wonder of his fate." She smiles, a sweet mixture of understanding and sorrow.

"He is the other half of me. I cannot help but be pulled along in his current." Surely she must understand, cannot possibly judge you for your soul's basest desire.

"You can see him. If that is what you wish."

You stop in your tracks, your surroundings and present company all but forgotten, as you realise all may not be lost.

"He is here? But I thought-"

"He was destroyed. But it is impossible to annihilate such a spirit as Sauron wholly. Especially as he has an anchor." She looks pointedly at you, and a shiver runs down your spine; even after millennia of fighting him, he wasn't gone, because of you. "There is a shred of him left, and he has been asking of you."

Your heart sings; perhaps all is not lost, the other half of your soul anchored in purgatory waiting for you, holding on for you to join him.

"Where is he? I do not feel him?" The emptiness in your soul had plagued you since waking, but you had assumed it was because half of it had simply ceased being.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere he cannot exert his will. And if you choose to be with him, you cannot return here. It would be your fate as well, until the ending of days."

"Is it what he wants?" Ever the dutiful wife, if Sauron wishes to be left alone for all eternity, you cannot deny him.

"He needs clarity. You are his clarity."

You nod, weighing up in your mind whether he would truly want to be bound to you with no other company for the rest of his days.

"And what about my rest? Do I not deserve peace?"

"Would it be peace without him?"

It is not a difficult decision.

"Take me to him."

~

The wonders of this new land stun you as you pass through them, never to see them again. But there is no doubt in your mind that this is the right course.

Slowly all fades until there is nothing again, only soft song that ebbs and flows to a crescendo, that breaks upon your arrival in your new purgatory.

You look around and tears spring to your eyes, though you try to deny them. Golden sunlight, soft petalled carpet, endless forest greets you.

"We're back." A breathless whisper that none can hear now, for you are truly alone in this endless wonderland.

It doesn't take you long to find him, the familiar melody of his fëa calling out to you as it always has.

A large iron wrought throne sits in the middle of your glade where you'd first met, the sight jarring. Upon it he sits, almost deliberately lounging as if enjoying the rotten fruits of his labours. But you know different, and the second your gaze falls on his, the facade begins to crumble.

"They told me you were coming." Beneath his cracking exterior, he sounds utterly defeated, and despite yourself you feel pity for your beloved in such a sorry state; after all his evils and malice, he is trapped here in paradise, unable to weave his songs and spells.

"I had to see you for myself. I didn't believe it."

"Now you have. Take heart and rejoice, your king is overthrown." He tries for condescending disdain, but all you hear is a broken man.

You should not pity him, you know it is all for naught, that he deserves this fate.

But to be cut off from the Song is punishment enough. He does not need your wrath too.

"How can I rejoice? The only thing I can take heart in is knowing I have you to myself, for all the ages of this world." To you that sounds like bliss, after endless wars and malice, but you imagine that for him, it is probably torture.

A cruel final trick of the Valar, sublime in its judgement, equal in its share of heaven and hell.

"They said you did not have to stay. That you could leave me if that is what you choose." His golden eyes drop to the floor again, refusing to witness your rejection for the umpteenth time.

"I suppose I don't. But I did wonder what eternity would look like without you."

"This is hardly the paradise you deserve," he scoffs, casting his gaze anywhere but on you.

"It could be. If we are together, it will be." You kneel down, looking up at him, begging him to listen.

"You could choose any other fate, why would you stay here with only your broken husband for company forever? Eternity is a long time."

"That is exactly what I thought. Forever is too long a time to be without you. We've spent so long starved of one another, I can suffer that fate no longer. I choose you." The words tumble from your lips before you realise you had in fact made up your mind, as if your body already knows your decision and grew tired of waiting for the pair of you.

He refuses to look up at you, fingernails digging into the armrests, head hung low. He is sure this is yet another trick of the Valar, perhaps to taunt him with the promise of one good thing in his everlasting purgatory. The promise of breaking his master's curse in defeat, to have and to hold you until the end of days, sounds far too good to be true. Sauron, defeated, is not the man you married. Thankfully.

"I ruined you." He mutters, almost too quiet to hear.

You kneel before him, taking his hand in yours.

"You remade me."

"Not in the way you deserve." He looks up then, and his face is red, eyes wet and puffy; your heart aches, wrenches in two at the sight.

"But in the way I needed."

He gives a derisive snort and turns away.

"No, look at me." You turn his face back to you, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I would not be the person I am without you. You did that. For good or evil, I am yours, and you are mine. All we have is each other. If you'll have me now."

His face twitches, but he doesn't reply, fixing an impassive expression that gets under your skin immediately. After everything that he has put you through, he can listen to you now.

You grip his face urgently, softly, all at once, pulling him to really look at you, imploring him to listen.

"You swore to me once that you are my home. Do you remember?"

He sighs, a long exhale, before finally looking up at you of his own accord.

"Of course I remember. I remember it all."

"And I am your home? We swore, a long time ago, but it still holds, does it not?"

His face twitches, and his fingers flex as if to release themselves from their claw-like grip around the twisted armrests of his throne.

"Do you regret it? Any of it?" The moment the question escapes your lips, you wish to take it back.

At that, he looks up at you, carefully regarding you as if you'd asked him to reveal the secrets of the universe.

After what feels like eternity, he answers you.

"I regret losing you." His tongue forms the words as if through cotton wool, unused to expressing anything but surety, his will to dominate all but spent.

"I regret that too." You whisper, taking his hand in yours.

"Mairon... my love..." You can't help the tears that well from the depths of your heart, as you use his true name for the first time in centuries.

His breath hitches and he reaches out for you, tracing your cheek, marvelling at the glittering tear tracks on your skin, his illusion of neutrality finally broken.

"We have fought too long and too hard for this to be our ending." You pour all your energy, all your love and devotion into the bond the two of you share, hoping maybe he remembers the feeling.

"So let us find another one." Tears blind you as you speak, but to wipe them away would mean letting him go, and you refuse to do so; instead he does the job for you, cupping your face gently, wiping each tear away as they fall.

"I choose you," you whisper, emphasising every word, your heart swelling as his tearstained face breaks into the first genuine smile you've seen in centuries.

"I choose you. I always have." Your voice cracks as he pulls you to him, claiming your lips with such tender passion that you melt into his embrace, his kiss an answer in itself.

Finally you feel whole. For the first time in millennia, you are home.

[lovely-parasite-04]

Iced Coffee, Detective?

Agnes!Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Prologue of ?

SUMMARY: One of the victims of Westview goes a little further than everyone else to be nice to the town hero, Agatha Harkness, or Detective Agnes O'Connor. She doesn't know what she's getting into when the Detective asks her to come in for "further questioning."

WARNINGS: Mention of murder (its only like a sentence), Agatha being Agatha

NOTE: This is mostly experimental because I hardly ever write and when I do, it never sees the light of day. However, I am In Love with Agatha, and I never see anyone write much about when she was under Wanda's spell. The experimental part is that this is meant to be comical and reader doesn't immediately start out with a big fat crush on Madame Harkness. It's also more on the simple side in terms of plot. I'm posting this first little bit to see how people enjoy it, and if it gets a lot of attention, I'll try to write more.

"Large Americano for Agnes?" I shout from my corner behind the counter, swiftly setting the paper cup down as I see the familiar brunette make her way towards me. I turn to begin making another order, but stay put to ask the older woman, "Any new cases, detective? I heard you on the phone over there talking about a lot of work to get back to. "

Agnes (Agatha) takes a large sip of her iced coffee, testing the flavor and swallowing, before responding with, "I'm not supposed to talk about the investigation and I don't entertain rumors about how the victim passed." She barely made eye contact with me, but I'm shocked she didn't immediately leave after receiving her order. She is usually in a hurry to get her coffee and go.

"Oh... of course. Sorry." I have no idea what she heard me say, because I didn't mention anything about a victim. I know I don't necessarily have to play along with her delusions like I do; most people simply tell her to have a nice day and direct her towards the door, but I can't help but be fascinated by what she is going through.

Seeing it from the outside, anyway.

I was among the rest of Westview during the Scarlet Witch's spell. Just the thought of it sends a shiver down my spine. Losing control of everything but your mind can be terrifying, wanting to say something but saying something else. Being frozen in time until you were needed for a plot point for a completely deranged woman. Losing track of time and wondering if it will ever end.

Agatha Harkness had been a town hero, stopping Wanda Maxifmoff and freeing everyone in Westview. But now she was stuck in the same spell with no end in sight.

Her Nosy Neighbor character lasted for about 2 years and everything seemed to be normal. She would gossip with her closest neighbors and those who volunteered to check in on her and bring her groceries, and she pretty much kept to herself. However, her characters have started to derail into different "genres". The first shift the town noticed was around Christmas last year. She seemed to be acting out a Hallmark movie, following around this one guy while pretending she was just bumping into him and trying to show him the "true meaning of Christmas."

It was funnier to watch than any actual Hallmark movie I had ever seen. The guy was married with a family, and continued to tell Agatha as such until she shifted again. That was when I made the observation that in Agatha's delusions, she doesn't always hear exactly what we say. It's like her brain can't comprehend anything that doesn't fit the little world she's made, so it makes something else up entirely for her to play off of.

I'm also convinced that she is controlling her delusions now. Maybe not intentionally, but I no longer see the hold Wanda had over her. Maybe this spell that Agatha is under is different from ours. She has no control of her mind. We only had control of our minds.

I feel bad for her, and I'm really intrigued by her as a person in general - I mean she's a fucking witch from 1690's Salem - so I steal any chance I get to talk to her. It helps that she is a regular at the coffee shop I work at.

Back in the moment, I need to move to the other end of the counter to finish this new order, and I'm positive she'll walk away once I do. I simply say, "Have a nice day!" And start to step away when she surprises me again.

"You knew her, huh?" Holding the coffee close to her chest and mouthing at a straw she slipped in while I was lost in thought. She follows me around the counter, not bothering to mutter anything to the other customers she runs into along the way. Her whole focus is on me.

"I...knew who?"

She heard me that time, giving me the full name of someone I'd never heard of before.

"Oh, her? Yea. Yea, me and her go way back."

  I'm a sucker for improv, okay? What's the harm? Even if she found out I was lying, she can't hurt me. She lost all her magic. Right?

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to come with me back to the prescient, so I can ask you a few questions about the girl and the nights leading up to her death."

Well, fuck. My boss would never let me leave for this. A real cop, sure. The town cook? Absolutely not. "I'm sorry, detective O'Connor, I'd have to wait until I get off work."

"Relax, hon." She said condescendingly "Let's just wait until you get off work -" What a great and completely original idea, Agatha. "I'll give you my card and you give me a call later today, okay?"

She proceeds to hand me an index card with the name Wanda gave her, Detective Agnes O'Connor, above a phone number. On the back is her house address. All handwritten.

  Bless her heart.

  "Okay- I hope you don't hand these out to everyone..." The last part was more of an outside thought, and thankfully Agatha didn't seem to hear it anyway, waving over her shoulder and exiting.

----------------

[merakijinx]

Jinx as Your Girlfriend (Part 1)

Author’s Note:

Hi! It’s merakijinx here, at first this was supposed to be a list of headcanons but then it kinda developed into a short story of how Jinx and reader’s relationship developed. I don’t want this fandom (especially the Jinx lovers part) to die haha so..

I also don’t know how to check for the word count I apologize, but this isn’t super long. This is the first time I’m writing something on here, and this also isn’t a serious AO3 story type shit, just a fun thought dump?

Hope you enjoy!

Before Dating ｡𖦹°‧

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ When Jinx first saw you, she didn’t think much of you. At most, she thought you were physically attractive— “easy on the eyes”.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Until you began being popping up in her life more, persistent to be around her. It was annoying & uncomfortable at first, because she wasn’t used to people wanting to be around her.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ It didn’t take long for her to warm up to you though. She tested you with pranks, pinned harmless glitter bombs on your back, set up booby traps just to see your reaction, to gauge if you can really keep up with her.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Your energy somewhat intimidated her. The way you wouldn’t look at her in fear when she came, or how you weren’t just counting the seconds until she finally left you alone. You liked being around her, and it was all new to her.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ She was even more confused when you started showing your true colors. Whether you become more kind and gentle, or more playful, or more quiet.. It intrigued her how full of life you were, and that also scared her.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ When she finally accepted that you would just stick with her no matter what, she let her guard down around you as well.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ You became her new best friend, the one person that would listen to her ramble on and on about her inventions.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ She would show off her weapons to you, and explain how she created them.

“And this here is my trusty Pow-Pow! She’s seen all sorts of things, real fighter, this one. It’s like she’s got a mind of her own..”

“I blew up the council with this, you know?” She says as she lifts up her rocket launcher.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Your presence certainly brightened up her life, but she couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t deserve you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ You were just too precious for a cruel world such as this. You didn’t deserve to go through any struggle or pain, and that’s all she would bring you. She’s a Jinx after all, right?

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Even though her mind is telling her to push you away, a selfish desire inside her wants you by her side. She scolds herself for being so selfish, keeping such a good thing like you with a bad person like her.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ As time passed, you two only grew closer. When she brainstorms about her new inventions, she would also take into consideration your ideas. No matter how unrealistic they may be, she will find a way to incorporate them into her works.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ She found herself creating trinkets and weapons dedicated or inspired by you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ At the corner of her desk laid a pile of papers with messy doodles of you two together on all sorts of adventures. Most of them were scratch papers to draw out her ideas for her weapons, but suddenly you were there on the paper holding the gun she was drawing.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ One or two Polaroid photos of you two would be pinned to the frame of her shattered mirror.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ It was one night that you decided to stay over at her place, that she realized she had feelings for you.

The world seemed to brighten up along with the sound of your laughter

How beautiful you looked when you were against the warm light.

You two were sitting together on the couch, talking and laughing, until you two stopped to catch your breaths and just soak in the moment. Jinx’s gaze flickered to your lips for a moment, observing the gentle outline of your bottom lip, and your cupid’s bow— then back up to your eyes.

‘What the hell are you doing, Jinx?’

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ You crashed on her couch while she slept on the other side of the hideout, in her own bed. She was watching you sleep peacefully on the other side, painfully unaware of how much pain Jinx has caused so many people. And there you were, sleeping safe and sound in the very home of one of the most wanted criminals

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Jinx reflected on all her memories with you. That time when you would listen to her rants, when you would laugh at her jokes or nonsensical muttering, when you wouldn’t run when she had an episode. She wanted to keep you safe, and most of all, she wanted to keep this thing going. You are possibly the best thing that’s happened to her in… a long time, after Silco died, after everything went to shit. She didn’t want to ruin this. She’s got something to live for now.

That’s when she realized, on that very night, in that dimly lit, silent hideout, that maybe… she developed something for you.

｡𖦹°‧

I might make this into an actual story, maybe.

[florencesf1blog]

idk if you’d be into writing this type of thing but i was hoping to see a step brother!carlos au👀

oh i’m open to a lot of things girl but i’ve never written for something like this so i hope it’s good🙏

——————————————————————————

your father recently remarried, which brought a lot of changes in your life. it took you some time to adapt, but luckily your kind step brother!carlos is here to help you out.

step brother!carlos who is all about helping his new step sister move into her new room. he carries the heavy boxes and helps to put shelves and closets together. what a gentleman! but really he’s mostly intrigued by the stuff you brought with you. to get a bit of an insight he’s all about helping you unpack, too.

step brother!carlos who makes sure you feel welcome in his home. he shows you around, tells you where stuff is and even offers to take you out to lunch to show you his hometown. isn’t he just a sweetheart?

step brother!carlos who often workouts in your yard, that just happens to be the view out of your bedroom window. you often catch yourself staring, especially because carlos can’t be bothered to wear a shirt. you think he never notices, because he never brings it up. but there’s a reason he keeps working out in the same spot.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

step brother!carlos who comes to call you downstairs for dinner, but catches you doing something else instead. the sight of you fingering yourself should have scared him off, but the two of you think different. ‘go on then, cariño. show me what you do to yourself’. ‘i know you’re thinking of me. i know you’ve been watching me, too’. ‘i’ll help you cum, only if you cum to my name’.

step brother!carlos who is all about teaching you new things. he wouldn’t say he was disappointed when he found out you were a virgin (though it would’ve been more fun of you were) because he had other things on his mind. when you told him no man had ever eaten you out before, he was happy to be the first. ‘you’ll have to stay quiet, bebe, wouldn’t want your father catching us now would we?’ he’d tell you, though he’d make quite an effort to get some noise out of you. the way he sucked on your clit, the way his tongue lapped up and inside of you had you writhing.

step brother!carlos who doesn’t like to share. nobody can know of the things that take place once everyone else in the house is asleep. so when he invited his friends over, they think you’re up for grabs. and you, being the tease that you are, let them think that. obviously carlos couldn’t stand for that. he excuses himself and goes straight to your room. ‘what do you think you’re doing?’. ‘maybe i should stuff your mouth so you can’t rattle your mouth anymore’. he doesn’t waste any moment. his friends are waiting for him after all. you take his cock, gagging as it hits the back of your throat at a brutal pace. after he came in your mouth, he leaves you disheveled in your room.

——————————————————————————

kind of a scrap cause idk how i feel about this and i haven’t done this in a while. lmk what you think!

want more step brother!carlos or have other ideas? leave them behind in my inbox!

[writingastory]

Request: Zayne - Behind Closed Hearts

Request: Hello! Can you please write a story or scenario with Zayne and reader? When they are in relationship and they get into an argument because Zayne keeps overworking himself and they barely have time to see each other. Zayne tells reader to not worry about it, but eventually lashes out on her with his cold tone. He ends up being called back to work and leaves reader. Reader then leaves Zayne apartment and goes back to her own apartment leaving a note that they need a break. Zayne obviously feels bad and tries to contact her/reader, but she’s still upset and wants her space. Zayne understands and misses her terribly, but she avoids him and ofc misses him. Then a few weeks pass by and Zayne is trying to see reader, but then he sees her with Sylus who is her friend that obviously likes her. Prompting Zayne to win her back plus some intimate moments/ professing his love for her. This has been on my mind for a while and if it’s too much for you I understand. Sorry that it’s so long. TY!✨💗

Pairings: Zayne x fem!reader; Sylus x fem!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, arguing, eventual fluff

Genre: "Normal" AU (no Evol, no Wanderers - just normal life)

Words: 2.3k

A/N: Thank you for your request. Even though I specifically stated "headcanons" for requests... this was an idea that I just couldn't ignore. Hope you enjoy this! 💕

"Zayne?"

"Zayne!"

She frowned at the lack of response. Was he still on the phone? He had a bad habit of taking calls after hours. What started as a rare exception, slowly turned into a regular occurrence, with his damned phone constantly interrupting their togetherness.

Her fist slammed the table angrily, the plates and glasses rattling and clinking in a loud chorus. She got up from her chair and stomped to his office, pushing the door open without warning.

There he was, sitting at his desk, his phone glued to his ear still. Zayne frowned at her in irritation - almost angrily so. "Keep it down," he mouthed, turning with his chair, humming at something the caller said.

"You said this would be quick," she said quietly, hoping he would at least spare her a glance - or reassure her in any way. "Zayne," she pleaded once more, all feelings of consideration for him and his demanding job long gone. "This is ou-," she was cut off by him standing up suddenly and making his way over to her.

"Out," he whispered, pushing her out of his office gently but firmly and closing the door. Hot tears made their way over her burning cheeks, seething anger bubbling up in her.

"But-," she sobbed quietly, the words stuck in the lump forming in her throat.

The dinner was long forgotten when he finally came out of his office, already fixing his tie. "I need to go back to the hospital," he said in his usual stoic tone. "I apologize that tonight didn't quite go as planned."

She sat at the dining table again, looking at the cold and empty plates. "Of course," she whispered, "work always comes first, after all."

"Please stop," he answered, walking over to her slowly. "You know that I love you - but you also knew from the very beginning, that my job is very demanding. I can't just tell people to not have heart problems at certain times."

"You're not the only surgeon in Linkon, Zayne." Her tone was sharp as she got up and walked around the table - away from him. She could not stand being near him anymore. "Can't you see what this workaholic lifestyle is doing to you? To us? Damn it, the nurses spend more time with you than I do these days."

Zayne frowned again. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, fixing the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, "but it doesn't change the fact that they need me there right now."

"I need you here, Zayne," she cried, not even bothering to hide the tears anymore. He avoided her gaze as he gathered his things. There was a moment of silence before he spoke up quietly.

"Please don't make me choose."

She looked at him in shock. His words stung - worse than any pain she ever felt in life. It was a dark, crushing pain, blooming in her chest and spreading all throughout her body. Why would he feel the need to choose in the first place...?

Shaking her head lightly, she turned away from him, hiding the fresh tears streaming down her face. She heard him sigh behind her, before he quietly made his way to the hallway. Just as he was about to leave, she called out to him.

"Don't go.... please, don't go."

Zayne halted in his tracks for a moment, his hand resting on the door handle. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and stepped outside, the door falling shut behind him quietly.

A few moments passed, before she broke down in sobs, tears of hurt and anger blurring her vision. "Happy anniversary to you, too," she yelled at the door - as if he could still hear her. The storm inside her was raging, months of pent up frustration, cancelled dates, and broken promises bursting out of her. The downpour was heavy and violent - as was the sudden silence that followed.

She sat on the floor in the living room, her back resting against the couch. Her tears had dried, her sobs died down, and she was left with a certain clarity of mind. She couldn't do this anymore.

Yes, she loved Zayne - but she could not take always being second choice anymore. This was not the kind of relationship she wanted in life, not even with a man as amazing as Zayne.

She scrambled to her feet slowly, starting to collect her things that had accumulated over the many times she was at his place. Every single piece felt wrong to take away, like she was committing a crime of some sort.

Every strange noise made her perk up, a spark of hope erupting in her. Was he coming back? Did he... choose her after all?

But with every noise that ignited a small glimmer of hope, came a crashing wave of ice cold reality, when she had to realize that he was not returning that night. Not soon after he left - or even five hours later.

So it came that she found herself in his office, sitting at his desk. The surface was relatively empty, save for a notebook, a pen... and a picture of the two of them. She remembered that day vividly. They had visited the annual fair together and enjoyed a day of fun, laughter, and sweets. And then, finally, after months of orbiting around each other... they shared a kiss, sweet and gentle.

Now, the same memory that had brought her joy and excitement, caused a deep pit in her stomach. She sighed deeply and placed the framed picture down again, as the memories slowly faded away. Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she grabbed the pen and a blank paper sheet from one of the drawers. She hesitated for a moment, the tip of the pen hovering above the crisp white paper. Then, eventually, she formed her words of goodbye.

The sun was already rising above the horizon when Zayne was finally coming home. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He called out her name as he stepped inside. Usually, she was already awake by this time of the day.

He said her name again, slowly making his way through his apartment. Something felt off. It was quiet. Too quiet. He frowned when he saw the food and clean dinnerware still on the table.

Once more, her name left his lips as he entered the bedroom and found it empty, the bed untouched. A terrible feeling crept up his spine, and following a certain hunch, he opened the top drawer of his dresser slowly. He shut his eyes in pain and remorse when he found it empty. Her clothes were gone, as was her perfume on top of the dresser. Zayne closed the drawer with a soft thud, his hands dropping to his sides.

He took out his phone and dialed her number, only for his call to be immediately sent to voicemail. "Please..." he whispered, walking through his apartment aimlessly, noticing the spots that had her things in it, that now sat empty, "please, pick up."

In the midst of the chaos that was her absence, Zayne found the one thing she left behind. A letter, neatly placed by the picture on his desk. The words burned in his eyes, like a fire against the white of the paper.

Zayne, I'm not asking you to choose between your work and me. What would be the point, since you already did?

He sat in silence, trying to process the words he was reading over and over again.

She was gone.

His love had left him.

Somehow, his world seemed a little less bright ever since that night. It became dull. Lifeless. Monotonic.

Incomplete.

He splashed his face with cold water, willing away the painful memory. Many times he had tried calling and visiting her, wanting to work things out - but she would not let him.

"We need a break, Zayne," was all she had said to him before shutting him out again. It hurt, but he could not blame her when he was the reason for this situation.

Weeks passed. Weeks full of regret and anger, hurt and doubt. Was he doing the right thing by giving her space, when all he wanted was for them to be together again? Could he even make it right anymore? He recalled all the times he had stood her up, making her wait for him. She deserved better.

But he did not want to let her go. He wanted to be better for her. He wanted to be the man she deserved. All his awards, his passion for his work dulled in comparison to her love and companionship. He realized that then - and hoped it was not too late for that.

As the weeks went by, she slowly got used to the heavy weight resting on her shoulders. She hated this feeling. More than anything, she wished to meet up with Zayne, hug him, kiss him, make everything go back the way it was between them - but she knew that she needed space to see clearly, to figure things out.

She sighed deeply, when her phone was ringing once again.

"I told you to stop calling me," she mumbled after picking up.

"No, you didn't," the man on the other side chuckled deeply. "Sylus," she said, a small smile forming on her lips. "I thought you were on a business trip?"

"I was," he answered, "but I could wrap things up earlier than expected. Are you in the mood for some coffee?"

She wanted to say 'no'. Then again, Sylus and her had been friends since elementary school, and maybe this would take her mind off things, help her get some distance from the emotional mess she was dealing with.

"I'll pick you up," he said. She could hear him smiling through the phone. "Alright," she answered, ending the call with a soft tap on the phone screen.

Zayne was stressed when he finally got off work. He was annoyed, he had a headache, and his eyes were burning. He groaned in frustration and rubbed his temples. He needed a break. A good coffee and maybe something sweet would certainly help him - or so he thought. Finding his love in the same café he went to, was not part of the plan. And seeing her with another man did not make it any better.

Rationally, he knew that those two were life-long friends. Emotionally, he saw red.

Without ordering anything, Zayne turned around and left the café. He knew where he had to go. This madness would end tonight.

It was already dark outside when she got home, confused when she found the door to her apartment not fully locked.

"Don't be frightened," Zayne's soft voice called from the darkness of her living room, "it's me."

"What are you doing here?!" she demanded, letting her keys fall into the dish with a loud rattle. "I think I was very clear in my demand for a break."

"You were," he agreed, turning on the light with a soft click. He sat on the couch, his legs folded, his eyes fixed on her form. "Yet, I find it nearly impossible to continue like this."

Silence filled the room. She took off her shoes and walked over, sitting down in the arm chair across from him. She tried her hardest to remain calm and stoic, even when her heart screamed at her to lunge at him. She craved his touch, his presence in her life.

"You look tired," she noted after terribly long moments of silence. "I'm not sleeping well lately," he answered quietly, a soft sigh following his words.

"I'm sorry," he said, his haze finding hers once more. She shuffled in her seat slightly, biting her lip. Countless thoughts flooded her mind, threatening to spill out - but she wanted to listen to what he had to say first. So, she looked at him in silence, waiting for him to continue.

"You were right. I did make a choice... and I despise myself for it. I despise myself for not seeing your hurt, for not understanding how you must have felt."

She swallowed thickly at his words. It was hard for him to talk about feelings. This was a lot - for both of them.

"The past weeks have been hard. I miss you. I miss us."

A single tear rolled down her cheek at his words. "I miss you, too," she said quietly. "But I'm scared. What if we end up right here again? That's not the kind of relationship I want..."

"My love," he breathed, standing up and walking over to her in a few long strides. He kneeled down in front of her and took her hands in his gently. "I don't want that either. I know my mistakes, and I don't want to repeat them. I will be better for you. Can you... find it in yourself to forgive me? To give me another chance?"

She did not even make an effort to hide her tears, letting them run freely over her skin. In a fraction of a second, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his - a silent answer.

Foreheads touching, they both sighed quietly, the pent up tension finally leaving their bodies and the air around them. "Let's never.... do that again," he whispered, his arms slowly circling around her, as he hid his face in her lap. He squeezed her gently, scared that she could somehow disappear from his grasp again.

"Agreed," she mumbled, raking her fingers through his soft hair gently. "I hate fighting anyway."

He smiled and looked up at her. "Oh, one more thing. Don't believe I forgot," he said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped present.

"Happy belated anniversary."

[emelinstriker]

☆ More ESAU Headcanons ☆

Happy New Year! :D

And since my recent art burnout's been a bitch, I decided to at least cook up something by writing down headcanons. Soooo here's some mostly trivial headcanons about the Champions. :)

☆ ~ Headcanons ~ ☆

☆ Wukong

>Did you know he has a collection of snacks hidden on his side of the bedroom? No? Now you do. Macaque already knew that since the start because Wukong isn't subtle about grabbing bags of peach chips from his hiding place. The bags are loud enough that Macaque's intense hearing isn't even required.

>He's also still a hoarder at heart. So don't be surprised if you find out that his closet is filled with items you can tell he doesn't need at all. The only reason the room itself isn't messy is because otherwise Macaque would forcefully shadow-portal his items away to keep things as presentable as possible.

>Not hard to figure out based on his design, but he's not really a fan of shirts. His cape and shoulder guard are fine, but an actual shirt or something else fully covering his torso feels like it's too much. He can get a bit annoyed when dressing up more as a form of disguise, but he also won't openly complain about it.

☆ Macaque

>Definitely holds the record for the highest kill count in the palace. Sure, he has a head start with how long him and Wukong had been servants before the others, but he still has more kills than his brother regardless.

>Him and Ao Lie aren't just besties in regards to them being both concerningly out of their minds, but they also both enjoy reading and gushing about fiction. You could find Macaque often hang around the library even before Ao Lie joined. Though, their tastes in the genres are a bit different. Macaque leans more towards overdramatic romantic books. Or just drama in general. They give him inspiration.

>He accidentally spilled just a tiny bit wine on the carpet once while trying to seduce a Master, and he never forgave himself for that ever since. He was so convinced that single mistake ruined his chances.

☆ Mink

>Despite the way he acts around the other Champions, he actually does care about them... somewhat. He certainly wouldn't be all that opposed to the idea of some of them suddenly disappearing. However, much like a previous point I talked about regarding him being physically unable to have a crush, the same principle applies to true hatred.

>He doesn't hate the others, contrary to popular belief. He just manages to annoy them to the point of some certain Champions wanting to fight and beat him up whenever possible. His blunt way of speaking and casual demeanor, no matter the regular emotion one would have in situations, only adds to why he's not well-liked in the group. That's him pretty much mirroring the Guardian.

>Deliberately leaves tiny pieces of his ink around the palace. The others believe it's just Mink being an asshole and refusing to fully retract his ink. But it's just him doing his job. They have no idea about the lost souls that walked into his small puddles.

☆ Nezha

>Daddy issues. Only really internally though since he can barely remember much of his family. But he does get a bit jealous whenever he sees one of his Masters have a happy relationship with their father. He can't explain why either, but he also would never admit to it. He's in denial.

>Secretly helps out Red Son in subtle ways. Like placing items he was supposed to find for their Master in an easier spot.

>His bed and its surroundings have so much pink and red going on, it looks like he's ready for Valentine's Day all year long.

☆ MK

>You know how his memory is absolutely the worst out of all of them? Oddly enough, he's a fast learner despite that. He may even retain certain parts of what he learned, especially if it involves muscle memory.

>Sleeps with plushies, of which some may be gifts from previous Masters.

>Gets this really odd feeling of familiarity whenever he see the people from that one noodle shop his Master sometimes sends him to. But he also doesn't like sticking around for too long because they've been trying to convince him to stay. That doesn't sit right with him. Their scents also made him suspicious. The green girl smells a lot like Ao Lie, so he doesn't trust her.

☆ Red Son

>Great at cooking and crafting, but horrible at gardening. Nezha can vouch. He once tried teaching Red Son a bit of gardening in case he couldn't tend to the courtyard for a while. It ended up in Nezha's soul nearly leaving his body at the sight of some plants catching on fire.

>If there's something like a broken toilet, he unfortunately is the one being asked to fix it. He's never been given any direct orders about it, but he ended up fixing such matters regardless to get a bit more recognition amongst the servants.

>He owns cute little cookie cutters in the shape of the Champions. One Master formed those for him, and he's enjoyed using those whenever he could.

☆ Azure

>"He asked for no pickles"-energy when out with the other Champions just to relax and hangout in the city.

>Unironically once put a leashed harness on MK after he managed to get lost too many times while the two of them, plus Nezha, were on a mission.

>Gentle giant with a heart of gold... But he also won't hesitate to swiftly crush someone if they were to go against any rules he himself follows. Of course, he would never willingly harm any of the other Champions, even if they sometimes do get on his nerves by breaking rules... We're going to ignore the fact that he has disposed of a few unruly low-ranked servants that spoke badly of his Master and their legacy.

☆ Ao Lie

>The wholesome persona he puts up is more fake than Macaque's glamor. They're both pretty much close to equally unhinged and psychotic, but Macaque is a lot better at hiding it.

>He's surprisingly skilled at crochet. It's actually something he started doing because Azure was trying to get him to open up a bit more, so he showed him how to make some lil crochet animals that Azure had learned from a previous Master.

>Bookworm who has dissected a Celestial Hunter out of curiosity before, as if it were a fun school project.

☆ Jin

>Without his brother around, he is actually extremely calm and laid back. Not that he isn't with Yin around, but it's a lot more prominent when his brother isn't hyping him up with more of his own energy.

>Really likes putting together puzzles and organizing things. Which is why he tends to help Ao Lie organize books that weren't properly put back. He's also really good at playing Jenga with how he also enjoys stacking.

>Gives off a calm dad-vibe similar to Azure, but a lot more nonchalant in the way he reacts to things. Unlike Azure, he's not really a fan of upholding certain rules.

☆ Yin

>Without his brother around, he tends to act more cold and somewhat more easily aggressive. Usually Jin would hold him back and balance him out with his calmer energy.

>He had a run-in with a Karen one time while him and his brother were on a mission in Megapolis, and now he really does not like socializing with the humans in the city. As in, you know those annoying moments where your parent meets a friend at a store at random and they start to small-talk, and you just want to go home? That's how he feels whenever his brother is being all laid back about socializing with the humans they have to interact with.

>Actually more experienced in close-combat than Jin. He used to rub that fact in just to tease him, until he lost in a sparring match to Wukong shortly after having joined the ranks of the Champions... No, the match wasn't required for anything, nor did Wukong even want to do anything at all that day. But Yin kept on boasting so much about his close-combat skills towards Jin that Wukong felt a bit annoyed and asked for a match to let Yin prove himself. Unsurprisingly, Yin lost the match fairly quickly, but it only made him respect the Blue Champion... Oh, and he shut up about his close-combat skills, which Jin was silently thanking the older Champion for.

[ Masterlist ]

[becomingthatgirl111]

The mindset of 2025

Happy New Year to all of you! I know I was inactive for a long time in 2024, but I'm going to start up again little by little. I have learned a lot of things during the year and when I feel inspired or ready to write about it I will.

I want to tell you that even if you didn't meet your goals one year it doesn't mean that they won't be met or that you are a disaster. Nowadays we are oversaturated with information and content from people who idealize their life to the maximum and although on one hand I think that is positive because it can help us to motivate us and learn new things on the other hand I feel that everyone's life is not the same and that each of us have different situations and sometimes we do not know how to handle them or we focus on the wrong thing and forget what we had planned or what we wanted to accomplish, but everything leaves us a lesson and something that I have learned this past year (the last few months especially) is to stop worrying and live life as you would like, no matter the circumstances, because the circumstances that you are going through right now, that which is preventing you from doing something you want to do will only keep you stuck in the same place.

Many times you don't have to do a thousand things or have a perfect routine but change the approach with which we see things, we worry about things that don't really deserve our attention and forget those that are important.

So for my part this year I want to develop a more stoic attitude towards certain situations and live for me, not for others. And I say this for many people who write me looking for advice, which I am grateful because you trust me but I always say it and I also apply it to myself because in the end we are people and there are things that bother us but do not give so much attention to those people or situations that you do not like, the solution will come, but trying to solve it or looking for a thousand answers you get nothing, better focus on what makes you happy or the goals you want to achieve.

What I want to say with all this is that for this new year it is no longer useful to continue suffering, to be bitter about people or things that we cannot change, when we change our attitude, when we stop giving so much attention to them, they will surely be resolved. and leave behind everything that you don't like and move forward, that's when you will see the real change.

Ideas for starting the year off right, manifesting and focusing

Write in your journal: ins and outs for 2025, the learnings you gained and look at them in a positive light, what you want to let go of, new habits you want to implement little by little, how last year made you feel and how you want to feel this year.

A meditation to kick-start the new year and visualise your goals or wishes.

Reorganise your space. Get rid of anything you have that no longer serves or pleases you, make changes in your room (or house) and make that space something nice that makes you feel comfortable to be in.

Start your plan. Set one main goal for this year and smaller goals that will lead you to achieve that goal in the end. A small habit you set today can lead to big results in the long run.

Nourish your mind with content that motivates you and helps you learn things to improve yourself. Not just personal growth but any area of your life that you think needs a boost. For example if you have problems with your relationships read or listen to podcasts on how to improve on that, positively influence others, learn about non-verbal language, that sort of thing.

And finally, don't wait for anything to change if you don't change yourself first. It's hard at first but change your mindset, act like an improved version of you. Think differently than you are doing now. Commit yourself to all your goals and if one of them is not achieved, it doesn't matter because you will have learned a lesson or you will have opened the door to something new and better, you never know. What has helped me the most to think differently have been the videos and podcasts about personal growth and other related topics. Because it opened up new ways of thinking that I didn't know about, and I was able to face things in a different way, but in the end you have to do the work yourself.

So I hope you have a good year and that everything goes well for you.

[twodogs-twocats]

hiiii, how are you? i hope you’re well and enjoying the holidays!! i’ve never made a request for anyone before, but i really love your writing and i read your headcanons for sleep token as roommates literally everyday. I think i have them memorized by now hdiwbsks. If you could write more about that (anything you want really - any specific scenario(s) you have in mind, or more headcanons on the theme, nsfw or not, for just one member or all) whenever you have the time, i would love to read it! ☺️❤️

Hiii!! Thank you so much for the lovely request! I'm so happy to hear you like those headcannons - they were also my obsessions for a while and I needed to get them out of my brain. This is your first request made, and my first request ever received! Thank you for giving me the inspiration to write something after a long (and necessary) break. I have a couple ideas floating around my noggin continuing with the theme of "Sleep Token as Roommates" and here is the first. I hope you like it 🖤

Making the First Move (headcannons)

Part of my Sleep Token as Roommates headcannons. There is obvious will-they won't-they tension between you and each of your roommates. This is how I imagine the line would finally be crossed with each of them.

Vessel: Vessel would be the most in his head about making a move, as he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable if you don't feel the same. Therefore, it would only happen when inhibitions were a bit low, and romantic tension high. One night, you both are home alone (a rare occurrence). You've each had a few glasses of wine, the sun is low in the sky, and you are sitting comfortably in a chair listening to Vessel play the piano. He floats through various tunes gracefully, everything from Grieg to Chopin to a piano rendition of Hey Jude, and you find yourself closing your eyes to settle deeper into the sound. Eventually he stops and pats a spot on the bench. I want to teach you a duet, he says. You settle in next to him, the warmth of his thigh next to yours causes your belly to flutter. He instructs you through a simple duet, a tune you are unfamiliar with. His instructions are clear, his voice so soft it is nearly a whisper. You do your best to follow along, both of you laughing at the occasional discordant note. The motion of his long fingers dancing across the keys pulls you into a trance until you play a wrong note, causing your fingers to brush against his. Instead of pulling away, his fingers linger, interlacing with your own. Your eyes meet, the answer to his question apparently clear in your gaze, as he brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear and leans closer.

II: As II is the most openly jealous of your roommates, he will make his first move after you invite a guy over. The guy is simply not your type, and his visit to your home ends without so much as even a kiss. You know you will never see him again, and you trudge to the kitchen cursing internally about your string of bad dates. II, however, does not realize this, and when you catch him leaning against the counter he is visibly fuming but trying so so hard to control his feelings so as not to hurt you. He can barely meet your eyes, and you don't have to ask to know what he is upset about. You sigh, and tell II that your date was yet another flop. At this moment, you see his expression flash from despair to hope. Let me take you out. He smiles brightly, his arms braced against the kitchen counter behind him, eyes full of conviction. You stutter, unsure if he meant what you thought he meant. Was he really asking you out on a date? I'm sorry, he continues, approaching you. The fire in his eyes softens a bit. It's just that I can tell you didn't like that guy, and I can't stand to watch you suffer another bad date. None of them know how to treat you. He places his hands on your waist and your belly burns with anticipation. II normally showed so much restraint, so his hands actually on you turns your thoughts into mush. Can I make it up to you? he asks, pulling you close to him. Finally, an offer you are excited to accept.

III: Once again, you fall asleep in III's bed after watching a scary movie. This film was particularly horrid, the images still flashing across your mind even as you snuggle into III's sheets. He pulls you close, his arms warm and strong around you, but he can tell you are distracted even as he tries to comfort you with dumb jokes and silly stories. Still thinking about the movie, huh? You admit that it terrified you, and that you're having a hard time relaxing. Hmmm. I might need to distract you a bit then. Now you feel III's breath closer to your skin. The room is dark and you can't make out what he's doing until you feel lips pressed softly against your forehead. Next, they land on your cheek, the kiss warm but feather light. A tingle of pleasure travels up your spine, goosebumps prickling your skin. III kisses your nose next, and you can feel him hovering hesitantly mere centimeters away from your own lips. You close the distance, the kiss so long anticipated wiping any thought of the movie from your mind.

IV: Ivy is a visual man, and he cannot help the way he feels when he sees you come out of your room wearing a slinky new dress, black and sparkly. While the others whistle and tease you, openly hyping you up, IV is silent, eyeing you up and down possessively. You blush and shoo them all away, but IV remains, watching you put on your shoes as you try to make conversation with him. He gives you one-word answers only, his voice strained. You are hyper-aware of his eyes on your every move. You are about to head out the door to meet your friends when IV grabs your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. God I don't know what's gotten into me. You just look so. damn. good in that dress. I almost don't want anyone else to see you. He lets go of your wrist, shaking his head. I'm sorry - but you cut off his apology with a smirk. When IV sees that he has not scared you off, he meets your smile with an equally flirtatious one, leaning close. Have fun tonight. But the next time I see that dress it will be on my bedroom floor.

[hazeystar]

i'm broken (tell you i'm fine)

Now I'm begging you to come and pull me out the fire Come and save me, like you did when we were young Oh please, come bring me up from my lowest, take me higher Can you see me through the ashes and the smoke?

Two weeks after the breakup, Buck misses Tommy. He also loves him, did you know?

welcome to my first fic to this fandom because i hold buck and tommy close to my heart and have many ideas for them now

below the break and also on ao3

He couldn’t have been older than ten when they first met.  

He had fallen off his bike. Or maybe he jumped. Maybe he just didn’t stop himself from falling. 

Either way he was on the ground, his bike somewhere around him. He was just going down the sidewalk, saw an uneven crack and thought nothing (or maybe he thought “What the hell?” and sped up just a tiny bit more). 

“Hey! You alright?” There was a voice calling, and he sat up carefully, wincing as he pressed his hands back into the concrete. He definitely scraped them up.  

He was blinking away the sun, when a body came in front of him, standing with a bike next to him. “This your bike?” 

It was his bike. There was a boy holding it up, looking down at him with a concerned expression. 

Oh. He still hadn’t said anything. “Ye—yeah, it’s mine.” 

The boy nodded, setting it down next to them before crouching down. He was older than him, that much was evident, just by his voice. “You’ve scratched up your hands pretty bad.” 

He looked down at the offending body parts, nodding slowly. “Looks like it.” 

The older boy was silent for a couple beats before standing up. The boy on the ground only stared, following the movement. “I’ll be right back.” 

He could only nod, watch the other boy stride down the sidewalk and reappear a few moments later, this time with a first aid kit in hand.  

The older boy resumed his spot in front of him, opening the kit and holding out a hand.  

He sat there, his own hands still on the ground, occasionally sparking with pain.  

“Your hand, kid.” The boy gestured again, and he finally moved, placing his hand in the other boy’s. He felt a shiver run through his body when the back of his hand hit his palm. It wasn’t bad by any means. It felt warm, and soft, like coming home.  

Slowly, the older boy dusted off the gravel on his hand, swiping an alcohol wipe over his palm before placing Band-Aids on the worst of the cuts. He set his hand down gently, picked up the other one and repeating the process.   

“There you go.” 

“Thanks.” He finally spoke again, and watched the other boy stand up and close the first-aid kit. 

“Try not to get thrown off your bike again,” he chuckled before giving a small wave and walking back to wherever he came from.  

He picked his bike back up, staring at it for a moment, his eyes moving towards the chunk of sidewalk that took him out. 

He walked the bike over it, making sure to clear the crack before getting back on and biking back home. 

- 

Buck was crying again. 

It was two weeks after Tommy had walked out of his loft, and subsequently his life. 

He’s now an owner of a KitchenAid stand mixer and probably getting close to being banned from three different grocery stores on account of how much flour and sugar he’s been buying. 

He’s working and when he isn’t working, he’s been baking. Trying to keep his mind off Tommy. 

But now, the red velvet cupcakes are baking in the oven, there’s red food dye drying on the counter that he can’t be bothered to take care of, and Buck is sitting against his island, tears running down his face as he stares at his phone, trying to write a text message. 

He got pretty far this time, some ramble trying to explain himself that filled almost half the screen (it was impressive he managed to type that much with all the water on his phone).  

How did this happen? It was going so well, six months together and it was wonderful. It was everything he wanted and more. And then he had nothing.  

Well, he had the red velvet cupcakes. That he didn’t even realise he’d started baking until he was pouring in red food dye. 

They were Tommy’s favourite. 

So, the loft smelled like red velvet, the food dye on the counter probably looked a little too close to blood, and Buck was crying because he missed Tommy so much. Why did he leave him? Didn’t he know he loves him, that he- 

Oh.  

Did Tommy even know that Buck loves him? 

The only sound heard was the sobs Buck was trying to choke back as his mind ran a thousand miles an hour. Did he ever tell Tommy he loves him? Did he ask him to move in and didn’t even say he loves him? 

Before he knew it, the text he was still drafting was forgotten as he tapped through his phone, bringing it up to his ear once it started ringing. 

It only took two rings, then “Ev- Fuck, Buck?” 

He was silent, his breathing hitching with a sob with every breath. He didn’t think this far, he hasn’t heard his voice in two weeks- 

“Evan?” Came Tommy’s voice again, and shit, he still hadn’t said anything, has he? 

“Tommy,” he breathed out. I love you, did you know that? I really, really lov- 

“Evan, are you alright? Where are you?” 

“Loft. I-” This time a sob escaped, and he couldn’t stop it, it was all too much. His loft smelled like red velvet, and he was hearing Tommy’s voice, and he just wants him here. 

“I’m coming over, okay? Don’t hang up, baby, I’ll be over there soon.” 

He nodded, then realise he wouldn’t see that. “Okay.” 

They sat in silence, broken up only by Buck’s choked back sobs or the occasional car passing Tommy as he drove. 

He didn’t know how much time passed, but a timer went off on his phone, and like he was on autopilot, he stood up and pulled the tray of cupcakes out of the oven. He set them on top of the stove, staring at red cakes. There was cream cheese frosting he’d made on the counter, but they still needed to cool, and he'd have to get a piping bag out so he could make them look like the ones they used to get at the bakery near Harbor. 

He let out another sob at the memory, sliding back down to the floor. The phone was in front of him, having put it on speaker long ago when he needed another hand to cry into.  

“Ev, baby?” Tommy sounded worried and it made Buck cry harder. He missed Tommy worrying over him, being with him, hugging him, kissing him. 

“I miss you.” 

A sigh, or maybe just an exhale. Then, “I miss you too, sweetheart.” 

He cried again. He missed him too. That’s good, that’s good, that means he can still fix this. 

“Pulling into the parking lot.” 

“Th- Door’s unlocked.” He’d gone out earlier to dump some trash, a great deal of flour bags. He’d forgotten about the door until just then.  

“Okay. I’ll be up soon.” 

It was quiet again, then the sound of a truck door being slammed. Buck didn’t move from his spot, not even when he heard the door to his loft open at the same time the call disconnected.  

“Evan?” And there was his voice, in person. He was here. 

“Down here,” he called out, hearing footsteps and then he was in front of him. He knelt down, two fingers hooking under his chin to get Buck to meet his eyes and he felt time stop when he saw Tommy’s face again. 

He looked tired, and sad. There was scruff around his chin, his hair was curly in a way that made Buck want to bury his hands in it. His eyes were the same blue, but there were read rims around them. Had he been crying too? 

“Are you okay?” 

Buck nodded, and then he was scrambling up, throwing his arms around Tommy’s neck and wrapping around him. Tommy sat back properly on the ground as Buck straddled him, arms going around Buck like second nature. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he soothed, arms tightening just a little bit more. Buck whimpered; his head tucked into the crook of his neck as he breathed in Tommy.  

“I missed you.” A beat. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, it’s okay.” 

But he needed him to know. He pulled away from his neck, not quite leaving his hold but needing to look him in the eyes. “No. I’m sorry. I should have said it better, or maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all, but I look at you and I just want it to be perfect because you deserve it. You deserve it to be perfect and I don’t know how to do it right. You mean everything to me, and I want you to be around all the time and I- I get it if you don’t think I’m worth it right now, I get it, I do, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I just, I miss you and I hate not being with you and I’ve been crying because I miss you and I love you and I just- I need you to know that, okay. Pleas-” 

He didn’t register Tommy’s breath hitching when he heard him say it, but he definitely registered his lips on his, effectively ending his ramble. 

And Buck melted into it. It’s been so long and also not long ago that he had kissed him, but still it felt like that first time. He felt like he was coming home.  

“Evan,” Tommy said when he pulled away, his voice wrecked. “I love you too.” 

It sent another wave of tears through him, but this time Tommy was crying with him, brushing a few of the tears away. “I love you.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He kissed his birthmark, cradling Buck’s cheek in his hand. “And baby, there’s nothing to forgive. You’re worth everything, Evan, a thousand times over.” 

Buck started shaking his head and then Tommy’s thumb was gently pushing against his lips, shushing him before he could even start talking again. “Yeah, you could have said it better, I mean, Evan, I own a house, you live in a loft. I’m sorry too. I should have handled it better too. I shouldn’t have just spiraled, freaked out and left you.” His eyes softened. “I love you. I do. It doesn’t need to be perfect; I don’t need perfect; I just want you.”

He nodded and for the first time since he entered his loft, Tommy smiled. Buck smiled as well. 

They were long overdue for a discussion on their last conversation that night. Tommy would go over his fears from past relationships, Buck would explain his thought process, and they would talk for hours about it all. About the last two weeks and six months and where that left them now. 

They would start with keys to each other’s places. When Buck’s lease was closer to running out, they’d start the conversation again about moving in together, this time properly, without any freakouts and breakups.  

But for right now, they’d sit on the floor in Buck’s kitchen, holding each other for the first time in two weeks. They’d hold each other and cry out their tears, and then Buck would drag them up to frost the cupcakes. They’d eat them on the kitchen counter and then fall into bed together, Buck tucked into Tommy’s arms. They’d both get the first good night’s sleep in two weeks, and they’d wake up in the morning knowing things weren’t perfect, but they weren’t as broken any more.  

It didn’t need to be perfect as long as they had each other, so the rest was going to be easy. 

[writersrkive]

hi!! i just read your spencer fic about telling him not to shut up. i specifically loved the fact that the reader’s first language isn’t english, i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn’t have english as their first language.

could you write something where the reader’s first language isn’t english and they’re having trouble with their paperwork because people tend to use a lot of difficult words, and spencer notices it and helps them out? maybe reader often stays late to finish working because they need to read sentences multiple times to fully understand them?

if you don’t feel like writing this feel free to skip or write anything else <3

(it’s getting late for me here but i look forward to reading more of your work when i come back from work tomorrow :)

have a good day!!

A little help never hurts | Spencer Reid

summary: Paperwork days are hell, especially for you, since English isn't your first language. You don't say anything to any of your coworkers because you're afraid they will see you as incapable of doing your work, but one genius boy might have been looking at you a lot and definitely notices something is wrong. He is determined to help you. An extra help never hurts, right?

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: English isn't reader's first language, mention of reader being from another country (I think that's all, but let me know!)

a/n: Omg, my second request! I loved the idea, thanks! I hope you like it rebel-ezra (does this notify you when I answer your inbox or do I have to tag people when it's not anon? lol, sorry). I'm excited to see how much you enjoy this one, and I'm sorry if it's not as good as you expected. English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Happy New Year, reader! I hope you can get distracted a little with this fic if, if you need to. You did it! Next year we have more people, places and things to know, hugs!

important: Are you guys interested in being in a Criminal Mind's tag list for my fics? If that's the case, let me know in the comments, please. I might be doing one if there's enough people.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

The feeling of pressure on your head and the emptiness of your stomach has stressed you since a few hours ago. You didn't have anything to eat since the doughnut and cup of coffee that García offered you in the morning when she arrived. But you weren't close to going home.

Paperwork was always a pain in the ass, but especially for the poor newest member of the BAU. Why is that? Well, your mother language wasn't English, and of course you had a good level —otherwise you wouldn't have the opportunity to study and work in the U.S.A.—, but the documents were too formal and technical given the seriousness of the issues being discussed.

“Shit.” You whispered, typing a new confusing and complicated word on your computer for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, do you want to go to my place after work? Tonight seems like a free night, if duty doesn't call.” Emily had approached you with a warm smile, knowing that paperwork was never easy.

“Thanks, Em. But I think tonight I'm going home to rest. It's been a long week.” But you gave that answer because at that point, it was routine to stay way later than your workmates.

Spencer was coming back from the bathroom, ready to take his stuff and go home. It was really late, so he thought he was the only one besides Hotch in the office. However, he saw you at your desk: your head resting on a dictionary, the computer next to you and several post-it notes stuck in the drawers of your desk.

He called your name twice, but of course the sleep you were immersed in did not allow you to hear it. Footsteps were heard in the darkness. There were just a few desk lamps on, that's why he was able to see your peaceful expression. He touched your shoulder slightly and when you opened your eyes, all you saw was a shy smile.

“Reid, what's wrong?” You asked, feeling your head throbbing.

“Are you okay? You fell asleep.” He whispered.

“Oh… Yeah… I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tired. It's late so maybe you should go home”

“Don't worry. I have work to get done anyway.” You sighed, remembering how you still had to review a quarter of documents.

“What? But you have been working on this for hours.”

His comment made you blush. Of course you haven't told anyone how hard it was to review every document twice or even thrice to be sure that you didn't misunderstand or mistranslate anything. Somehow you felt that if anyone knew they would criticize or mock you. Not that you thought about your coworkers being mean, but through your journey of learning another language and moving from your country, you met all kinds of people. Also, you didn't want to be seen as weak or incapable of doing your job.

“Today was just a lot, that's all.”

“You usually work quickly, though I think I know what's going on. You keep a dictionary on your desk and usually carry a pocket version in your backpack, the days when you leave work late are paperwork days and you usually close the translator tab on your computer as soon as someone approaches your desk.” He explained looking around your stuff as if he was analyzing everything. “Is it about the language?”

“Yes, yes it is, okay? There, I said it!” Your frustrated tone made Spencer realise how tired you were about the situation. You didn't even try to deny it, you just hid your face around your arms, leaning on your desk —as if you were recreating the position he found you asleep previously—.

“Hey, but what's wrong with that?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean ‘what's wrong with that'? I'm supposed to understand everything that is on the documents, but I become slower because I have to verify and translate information that I don't understand because it is a more technical language.” The words were audible enough to him even though your face was still hidden.

“Do you realize English isn't your first language, right?” He tried to get you to look at him, but it didn't work. “Everyone in this work has difficulties when it comes to other languages. You don't have to feel bad because it's happening to you.”

“Does it happen to you?” Your shy eyes met his.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of a cocky smile.

“See?”

“Well, I didn't say anything about me, you were the one who asked. Besides, I'm trying to be more sociable.” His comment made you chuckle slightly, but that chuckle became a laugh when you repeated what he said in your mind. “You are really funny, do you know that?”

“A-Am I?” The way you were looking at him, with a tired, yet cute, expression and a little smile, made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I can also be of great help at work. Let me help you with the files.”

“It's not necessary.”

“It is. You need to rest, so let me get started while you go to the machine for something to eat. A little help never hurts.” He whispered, already taking the documents.

“Fine.”

A few minutes later you returned with an open package of cookies. You stopped for a moment, admiring the furrowed eyebrows of the genius boy who was reading the files with a lot of attention. Then you realized how fortunate you were for having coworkers like him. Or maybe was he himself the one who was so amazing that you would never get tired of working with him.

“Agent. Can I talk with you for a second?” Hotch's voice welcomed you the next morning.

Spencer's view followed your figure to the boss’ office and that didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

“Pretty boy had fun yesterday?” Derek teased.

“What?”

“You know… Penelope said that last night Hotch wasn't the only one who left work late. You and our new colleague had a date at work?” His strong arm embraced the other's shoulders.

“N-No! I thought we were the only ones… No! Nothing happened!” Spencer struggled to say.

“Reid, can we talk?” Your voice made him turn around. He just hoped you weren't angry.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” He asked when both of you walked into an empty hallway.

“Actually, yes. Apparently Hotch received a request from the team's genius profiler to work with me on my paperwork days. So, you are having trouble concentrating on the files because of some headaches and need someone to work with?” As you spoke your tone of voice slowly reflected, with a mocking tone, that you knew perfectly well why Spencer had spoken to Hotch.

“Am… Yeah. Headaches are the worst.” He whispered looking to the floor.

“Thanks, Spence.” You said with sincere gratitude. Spencer looked at you again and felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized that you weren't mad at him.

“Sure. Whatever you need, I'm here for you… as coworkers, of course!” His voice got a little higher when he clarified immediately.

You were about to walk past him to return with the others, but then he spoke again. “Do you think maybe we can go and have coffee on a free day? I mean, I can help you with the words that are difficult for you. And, actually, I was thinking that I might need help with your language too. We can help each other, you know?” He gulped.

“Sure. A little help never hurts.” You smiled and walked away hiding a smile while Spencer was left alone, standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe that he had just asked you out. “Hotch is gonna kill me if he finds out…”

[copilot-crashout]

Oh em gee I love ur writing so much it physically cleanses me sjsjjsjsj

Anyhoo, I was wondering if I could politely request Mouthwashing x reader (separate) where reader writes them “anonymous” love letters. Reader thinks they are being sneaky but the crew have known from the first letter its them and just chose to keep quiet^^? Idk I am kinda crazy about dorky!reader..

Ps #1(If u don’t wanna do all the characters, that fine!)

Pairing: Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: None! [except I gave up on proofreading.. ( ᐡ๐ ·̫ ๐)〣]

[A/N]: You're so sweet! Thank you, lovely anon!! (°´˘`°) I default to all the characters, so don't worry! I don't want to leave anyone's favourites out! I wonder if you can tell who my favourite is from my work... ( ⩌⩊⩌)✧

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> What a charming admirer he has! He grins when he notices you nervously looking around before entering his room, only to find the cutest little letter in his room professing their love to him.

-> He keeps hold of all of them. They're worth more than gold anyway. He doesn't have the heart to tell you right away, not when he sees your chest puffed out with pride when you place another letter in his room, a mission successful in your eyes. Instead, he focuses on noticing the little details he'd never seemed to pick up on initially. You had it bad for him, huh?

-> Curly teases you about it. He never mentions them directly, but he will often exaggerate his behaviours to the most recent letter he read. You mentioned how tall he was. He's sure to flaunt it off more.

Since when were things in this kitchen placed so high?

You sighed to yourself, stretching to try and grab some simple condiment packets you swore were placed on the countertop the last time you saw them. Luckily for you, Curly walks in at the perfect moment. When you ask for help, he gives a confident grin as he nods, stepping towards you. As expected of him.

What you didn't expect was the warm hand he placed on your hip or the way his chest pressed into your back as he grabbed exactly what you were asking for, the steady thrum of his heartbeat only making yours speed up. You're left red-faced and stuttering, nervous hands taking the packets out of his larger one.

"You're all red. If you're not feeling well, you should take a visit to Anya. I can walk you there."

JIMMY:

-> He loves it. End of. They boost his confidence in ways he didn't even know was possible. The idea of you watching him when he didn't notice was one he found sickly sweet, prideful that someone loved him as much as he deserved.

-> He was initially planning to tell you he knew after the first letter. He had dreamed about the way he'd hold your letter back to you, a sly grin as he watched you scramble for an answer, flustered before ultimately coming clean about your attempts to court him. Once he sees the second letter, however, his mindset changes.

-> It's simply too cute. The way you sneak around to keep it anonymous and the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. He's delighted by how much of your mind he occupies. It excites him to think about how much you try to learn about him. Do you know his routine by heart? What about his likes and dislikes? Better yet, were you trying to mould yourself into the perfect partner for him (although this seems more of a dream on his part than a genuine question...)? He gets a sick kick out of it.

-> He finds himself re-reading the letters in the middle of the night, the ones that point out the smallest parts of himself that you talked about so affectionately. It made him nauseous. Words so tender weren't something he came by so easily, nor was it something he believed he deserved. He's used to one-night stands, a cheap fuck, nothing so... romantic. Perhaps he could get used to this.

-> He's not going to be soft, though, as he teases you about it. Offhandedly mentions the letter and if you knew who could leave such a thing in his room and grins when you instantly deny it and make a show of him believing you. He gets incredibly touchy, too. His hands linger for a fraction longer than they need to. He stands as close to you as he can, looming over you whenever he has the time. Have you noticed the way the atmosphere changes when it's just the two of you alone? He'll look forward to your next letter. Maybe you wrote about it.

-> He could try playing the long game for once. The reward feels so much sweeter that way.

ANYA:

-> Anya is perceptive first and foremost. Rather than catching her admirer mid-delivery, she uncovers your identity through your handwriting.

-> The letters cheer her up endlessly. They're a sweet reminder of how someone adores her, even when she's overwhelmed. It's hard on board, but your letters become a routine that she looks forward to. I think she's one of the only characters who would tell you she knows, feeling guilty about leaving you in the dark about something that could embarrass you. However, she'd never ask you to stop. Anya gushes about how much she appreciates every single letter, keeping them and re-reading them when she can and she tells you how she figured it out, giggling when you stare at her like you're begging for the floor to swallow you whole.

-> Anya makes it a priority to keep you happy. Your letters do so much for her, she only wants you to feel the same. You'll find her lingering around you more, offering hugs or a shoulder to lean on whenever possible. If you're especially tired, she'll help finish your work with you. Another set of hands would always help.

-> She begins to write small compliments on her Post-it notes, leaving them in places you frequent. If you have tools you use, she places a note talking about how hardworking you are on there. Otherwise, you begin to find small notes in your room. It becomes a ritual between the both of you, sending each other letters when you can. She just wants you to know how loved you are.

DAISUKE:

-> For him!? Really!?

-> He's kicking his feet and giggling, rolling around in his bed, head buried into his pillows. If you thought you were dorky, then he's 100 times worse.

-> He's attached to your hip. You thought he was helpful and sweet? Well, he'll help you with your work! Fun to be around? In his free time, he's running to you for another round of board games or to play on his Game Boy.

-> He wouldn't know subtle if it slapped him in his face. It's unfortunate for the rest of the crew, who have to watch two love-sick adults pine for each other as if they're not reciprocated.

-> Whenever he feels especially sad, he re-reads the letters. Even if he might feel useless at times, that he doesn't have a plan for his future, he does have the assurance that you'll be there by his side. You're a great person. If you can find all these amazing things about him then... He's sure he can make something great of himself.

SWANSEA:

"Jesus, this kids got it rough."

-> That's his first thought before it slowly dissolves into a fond affection. He's a bit too old for this lovey-dovey yearning shtick, right? Initially, he finds himself sighing at the letters, wondering when and how would be the best way to stop this little game of yours. He feels undeserving of it. You have so much going for you. You simply don't deserve someone like him. He wants to push you away, but the letters mean too much to him. Instead, he becomes charmed by it all, awaiting every letter with bated breath.

-> You do know how to make him feel young again. Each letter leaves his heart pounding, feeling like a young schoolboy rather than a washed-out mechanic.

-> He keeps every single one. If you place them in little envelopes or place small gifts like stickers in them, you'll be glad to know he keeps it all in his bedside drawer.

-> He's one to return the favour, too. He's picked up a few skills with his work. Blue-collar jobs like this have enough transferable skills to help in the creative department. He hopes you're not too surprised if you find your broken items repaired or a small figure of your favourite animal made out of scraps in your room.

-> Perhaps... He's the one who's got it bad.

[sanjisleggy]

let your husband help you (shanks x reader)

eq: HELLO HELLO, GOD I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD YOUR REQUESTS OPEN, I LOVE YOUR WRITING OF SHANKS, I LOVE WHEN THEY PUT READER AS SHANKS' WIFE AHHH‼️‼️‼️‼️ something about shanks, with a fem!reader (if possible) that has wings and sometimes the wings with feathers require molting and there are areas that cannot be reached closer to the back and requires help to remove the loose feathers

a/n: (i am playing valorant as i write this help) ty for the request anon! :D the enthusiasm is very endearing ;;0;; hope you enjoy reading! also man i love writing for Shanks :3c

contents: a bit of angst (fem!reader is having a hard time), descriptions of itchiness and pain, comfort, fluff :D, a tad bit suggestive bc it’s Shanks

wc. 1.2k

wanna be on my taglist?

i.

these past few weeks have been torture. today especially so.

alone in your bedroom aboard the Red Force you writhe in itchiness and pain as your back aches in a way it hasn’t in a long time. lying face-down on your bed, you feel your wings twitch and tremble as you contort your arms to reach behind you as far as humanly possible; only to groan in defeat when the most you can do is brush the offending feathers with your fingertips.

for days now a small part of your brain has been nagging at you to go get Shanks for the sake of your poor back and wings but you’ve heard from your crewmates how busy he’s been so you’ve pushed the urge aside. now, though, the idea has forced its way to the forefront of your mind out of desperation, no doubt.

holding back a sob of frustration that threatens to make its way out of your throat, you nuzzle your face into your husband’s pillow, hoping that his scent can serve as a distraction of some kind. more than anything though, it simply acts as a poor placeholder for the real thing and only makes your aching heart (and wings) yearn for him even more.

“c’mon, (Y/N), don’t be shy,” his gentle voice called from outside the utility closet in which you’d chosen to hide–away from him. you felt your face heat up at Shanks’ persistence to help with something he wasn’t even totally aware of; he just knew you were in pain so he had to help.

“it’s okay, i can deal with it myself,” you lied, wincing when one of your wings brushed against a shelf behind you. most of the molting feathers had already been dealt with but your wings had grown a lot since the last time you molted and now they were far too big for your hands to reach. “just leave me alone.”

“if you don’t tell me what’s up, i’ll tell Rayleigh.”

“no!” you protested instantly. as much as you trusted the first mate of your crew with your life, this was far too embarrassing to get him involved. “if you tell anyone i’ll leave the crew, you asshole.”

you had meant it only as a false threat but the sudden silence told you Shanks took it a bit more seriously than you thought he would.

“okay, fine,” he replied and you could hear the pout on his face. “i just wanna help. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. you know you can trust me to take care of you.”

a particularly sharp pain shoots through your spine from your right wing and the whine of discomfort slips past your lips before you can help yourself. too far gone to care about anyone hearing from outside your quarters, you let yourself sob aloud, the relief from crying doing little to ease your discomfort. 

the immense helplessness of your situation makes you realise how pampered you’ve been all these years. how lucky you are to have had such a loving friend-turned-lover who always took it upon himself to care for you. now here you are: alone in your bedroom, struggling with a task that you long should’ve learned how to deal with yourself.

you nearly give in to the urge to seek out the one person you trust to alleviate your pain but at this point, you’re too tired to even get off the bed. maybe it’s for the best, you wonder to yourself. your eyes flutter closed as you pull Shanks’ pillow a bit closer and bury your face deeper into it as you allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by your exhaustion, hoping that at least you can sleep away the next few hours of aches and itching.

ii.

letting out a sigh of relief, the one-armed Emperor took his time returning to his ship after a grueling few weeks of settling disputes between several smaller pirate crews. normally such tasks would never take this long–hell, most of the time he didn’t even have to step in–but civilians’ lives were at stake so he had no choice.

now, as Shanks nears the dock and sees the Red Force coming into view, all he can think about is taking a nap with you. not only have his duties kept him away from you all day every day, he’d also been going to bed at ungodly hours, crawling under the sheets beside you long after you’ve fallen asleep. though he can’t wait to spend some quality time with you, he wants nothing more than to rest by your side with the knowledge that he’ll finally be able to wake up after you for once.

“hey Captain,” Benn calls out from aboard the deck once Shanks reaches speaking-distance. “i think (Y/N) needs your help.”

“see, what’d i say?” you could practically hear him smiling as he sat behind you, tenderly plucking out the final few loose feathers. “there’s no need to be shy around me.” Shanks tugged at a particularly stubborn feather and when it finally came loose, you couldn’t help the moan of relief that came out of your mouth.

you felt your cheeks rapidly heat up in shame as you buried your face in your hands, fully prepared for the boy to make fun of you. but it never came. instead, Shanks stayed quiet as he soothed the particular spot of skin with his fingers in a manner so tender you couldn’t believe it was him.

“there, all done,” he said. you were grateful but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and face him even though you knew you had to in order to thank him properly. 

as though sensing your dilemma, Shanks leaned forward to press his lips against your shoulder blade, right above where your wings sprouted from your back. it sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps appeared all over but you didn’t tell him to stop, if anything, you wanted him to continue.

you’re ripped out abruptly from your dream when the door of your quarters slams shut. from your face-down position in bed, you’re unable to see who it is but only one person in this world would be brave enough to make such an entrance.

“welcome back,” you groan, using your arms to push the upper half of your body off the mattress as you turn your head to glance over your shoulder.

“why didn’t you call for me?” your husband responds, tossing his cape onto the floor before rushing over to guide you back down into a resting position. Shanks pulls over two other more pillows and places them in a way he knows, from years of experience, makes you the most comfortable. “how long have your wings been molting?” 

there’s a slight hint of frustration in his voice but you know it’s not directed at you. it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty, though.

“it started… two weeks ago…” you mumble into Shanks’ pillow.

“you–” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh before he says anything impulsive. the Emperor understands you just didn’t want to disrupt his work and he appreciates the sentiment greatly, he’d just hoped that after all these years of marriage, you’d know how he’d do quite literally anything for you. this, he decides as his eyes scan your twitching wings and tangled feathers, is a conversation for another day though.

“poor thing,” Shanks coos instead, leaning down to press kisses all over the back of your neck and around your shoulder blades as he runs his hand down your side. you can feel his lips smile against your skin when your body shivers in response. “you must’ve been in so much pain, hmm? let your husband help you out.” 

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui

[scary-grace]

Readers listens to artists like Lord Huron, wave to earth,day6, the last shadow puppets that sort of vibe. Their music tastes are similar enough for the most part however if a song is a little too romantic he will second guess himself because what if she doesn't know that he's playing for her (she does) or what if she thinks its weird (she thinks its the cutest thing in the world)

Unfortunately writing is not a talent I possess however if you wanted to write it I would simply be obsessed. You are my favorite Shigaraki fic writer and I know youd be able to do my silly little idea justice😭(If you do decide to write it please feel more than welcome to change reader's music taste to something more comfortable for you if you'd like! I know not every artist is for everyone) But I just wanted to thank you so much not only for the amazing work you put out but also for being so kind!

Ahh, thank you for the kind words about my writing! I’ve been thinking about this AU all day long, and this is my first shot at the first not-meeting between Tomura and the reader! I like the music taste you’ve given her (esp the Lord Huron) but I wanted the first song to be a little more egregious 😅 if this is what you had in mind I’d love to write more!

When Tomura rented this apartment, he had no idea the walls were so fucking thin. No matter where he is in the apartment, he can hear absolutely everything that’s going on around him. The couple in the apartment above him fighting. The couple in the apartment on the left having such obnoxiously loud sex that he almost wonders if they’re doing it just to piss him off. The guys below him would be all right, except they play Mario Kart twenty-four seven, with the volume on. Any time Tomura wants to do anything — take a nap, do his homework, play guitar, get two seconds to think — he has to do it along the right-side wall of his one-bedroom apartment. At least that’s where his bedroom is.

It sucks not to be able to use most of the apartment he’s paying for. Tomura’s going to host a jam session here in revenge as soon as he can get the rest of the band to pay attention instead of spending forever decorating their own apartments in nicer buildings than this one. In the meantime, there’s at least one spot where he can hear himself think.

Tomura knows there’s somebody living in the apartment on the right. You moved in a day or so after Tomura did, and he only knows what you look like because you asked him where the laundry room is. You were smiling when you asked him, and you’re cute, so of course he fucked it up and just pointed instead of telling you or asking for your name. You’re cute and you’re quiet. That makes you Tomura’s favorite neighbor by default.

He’s sprawled out on his bed, tuning his guitar in preparation for band practice tonight, when he hears you humming on the other side of the wall. At first he thinks you’re just humming random notes, which he doesn’t hate as long as you’re on-key, which you are. In the time it takes for Tomura to recognize the hook, you’ve already started singing.

“Yeah, it’s over, it’s over, I’m circling these vultures, got me praying, man, this hunger, feeling something rotten —” Sit Next to Me, Foster the People. Tomura doesn’t hate the song choice. “Last time I saw you, said “What’s up?” and pushed right through. Then I tried to catch you, but we’re always on the move…”

“And now it’s over, we’re sober, symptoms of the culture,” Tomura mumbles under his breath, “and the night ain’t getting younger, last call’s around the corner —”

“Feeling kind of tempted and I’m pouring out the truth, fading out these talkers ‘cause now all I want is you, just sayin’ —“

“Come over here, sit next to me,” Tomura sings, only to remember that he’s not the band’s lead singer and there’s a reason for that. He shuts up in a hurry, and you keep singing. We can see where things go naturally, just say the word and I’ll part the sea —”

The walls are thin. So thin that they might as well be hospital privacy curtains, which means that if Tomura could hear you humming, you can definitely hear him singing. This is a nightmare. It’s a good thing Tomura doesn’t live in the same building as any of his bandmates. With how goddamn fucking thin the walls are, they’d have heard him singing a nonconsensual duet with the girl in the apartment next to him, and they’d never let him live it down.

He’s not going to live it down anyway. When he gets to band practice still humming Sit Next To Me, he gets roasted so hard by the rest of the band that he’s surprised his guitar case doesn’t catch on fire.

[whatevertheweather]

Thank you all for the tags @run-for-chamo-miles @monbons @forabeatofadrum @rimeswithpurple @ileadacharmedlife @artsyunderstudy @noblecorgi @you-remind-me-of-the-babe! You're all making me very emotional about fandom, and my TBR has gotten out of control.

So. It's 2024 for a little bit more. I'm not sure what's going to happen as I write this post, but I know it's not going to be succinct, so we're just going to start below the cut and see what happens.

I'm waffling over where to start, but I've decided on what we're here for, which is the fic recap. I did actually make fic goals in 2024, and I did actually meet some of them, which I'm trying to focus on instead of the parts I didn't meet. Here's a nice lil screenshot to sum that up.

I did give Bait and Switch a checkmark after some hesitation, because it says ongoing, and I did keep it going. I just didn't finish. (The new goal is before CORB 2025 I guess.)

So I completed 2 fics. Continued 1. Posted 60,917 words, AO3 says, even though that's including the chapters of the WIPs I started last year, and by my clumsy calculations with that in mind, it's actually 32,990. Did not meet my goals, struggled to write most of the time, but when I was looking for these stats, I found AO3 doesn't even give me a 2023 tab (rip first chaps of Bait and Switch and Musical Chairs, I guess), so it's an improvement over last year.

It just doesn't feel like it, because so much of what I did is unposted. So those are the stats I'm gonna give.

Words that didn't get posted: 23.5k

Fics this close to done that I just couldn't get any farther on: 4

Fics started: 3

Fics lovingly revisited after being abandoned for a long while: 2

Number of projects I got really excited about writing: 3

Number of times I wrote AHAHAHA in brainstorming documents because I figured out what I need to do to fix the problems I was having: 5

How long it will take me to turn those ahas into action: I cannot possibly say

Number of times I should have reached out for brainstorming help: 50, probably

Number of times I actually reached out: 3, I think

It's these last two points I actually care about. Well, no, I care about all of it, but it's these last two I've been thinking about. I had writing goals for 2024, I'm going to have writing goals for 2025, but I also had a more nebulous goal to participate in fandom more, and that's the one I'm actually bothered about not meeting.

I have a bad habit of thinking the only way I can participate is by getting fic done. Sharing it. Posting snippets if it's not done. Like I can only rejoice in other people's WIPsday posts if I have my own, instead of just being inspired by other people's writing and art. Or I can only share excitement or progress if I'm sure it's going to go somewhere, instead of just posting what I have and letting the community of it all be its own excitement. Or I can only comment if I have the headspace to put together a stunning review that perfectly encapsulates what I liked about a fic/art/anything, instead of just saying what I can or messaging someone to tell them I loved the thing they made, as if I don't know how wonderful it feels when that happens.

I'm getting sappy and maudlin on main, but I appreciate this fandom so much, even when I revert to lurking, and I want so much to get back to participating and talking to people and sharing in all the amazing wonderful things this fandom does. Y'all are some of the most talented and creative and kind people and I adore you all. So that's my main (fandom-related) goal for 2025, and any fic completed will just be bonus points.

But! Since we're here for fic at the end of the year, I will round out this rambling post by saying there are at least 3 ideas I'm hopeful I'll be able to maintain my current level of enthusiasm for, and beyond that there are about 5 that are a few sentences away from done, so there's hope for seeing at least some fic from me in the new year. Related, here's a peek at the first three documents on my drive.

Two of these fall in the "a few sentences away from done good lord why can't you just finish this" category. The other one falls in the category of things I'm actually very excited about, and hope to at least have a WIPsday post for it before too long. Because I'm thinking keeping things secret for fear of never finishing them is actually kind of silly, and I don't need to keep trying to create things in a vacuum.

Finally, a mess of tags that is me waving hello with both hands: @fatalfangirl @moodandmist @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @whogaveyoupermission

@mostlymaudlin @sillyunicorn @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @alexalexinii

@ivelovedhimthroughworse @iamamythologicalcreature @ionlydrinkhotwater @thewholelemon @bluedahlia912

@youarenevertooold @cutestkilla @raenestee @confused-bi-queer @basiltonbutliketheherb

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

One more night gone 🌻

Summary: Based on the song Hello, I’m in Delaware by City & Colour. Navigating the hardships of having a rockstar boyfriend and feeling just a bit small when he's away on tour.

Pairing: Noah x Reader

TW: talks of being sad and alone.

AN: maybe someday I’ll write something longer for now this will do? Lol I might make these into a little series. I have another one of these with another song that I love that I’m working on as well. @concretejunglefm has seen my WIP list, and I hope I can get all of my ideas into something cozy and fun for yall to read.

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

READERS POV

Watching Noah go on tour was always a bittersweet feeling for me. I loved seeing him accomplish all of his dreams and having the time of his life. I loved seeing him so happy about doing what he loved. But I also i hated that i felt so alone when he wasn’t around. Yeah I had family and friends that I could easily call to come over but it didn’t fill the void that I felt when he wasn’t at home with me.

“I will see you again” I heard through the speakers of my phone. I was currently on FaceTime with Noah, I admití that I wasn’t really paying attention to anything that he has said to me in the last 5 minutes.

My thoughts where hazy and I was feeling under the weather ever since he left for tour a week ago.

“Babe…are you okay?” I heard him ask me with a bit of concern in his voice.

“Sorry..I just.. it’s so dumb. Forget it, how everything going?” I asked trying to change the subject.

I indeed felt dumb even bringing up the subject of how I felt, I didn’t want him to feel guilty for doing what he loved.

“Y/N you do know you can tell anything..right?” Noah asked making a long pause to make sure I would answer.

“Yes I know, I just don’t wanna make it seem like the end of the world” I paused for a moment “ I miss you so much you have no idea, I just feel so little when your not around.”

I could see the apologetic look in his eyes, and it broke me even more to think that it was he might have felt a bit guilty for leaving me.

“Please don’t think that I’m saying all of these to make you feel guilty or any of that sort.” I said “I love that you get to do what you love and I’m so proud of everything you have accomplished, I just wish I was able to go with you this time around” i let out a little laugh trying to subside the little ache growing inside me.

Noah took a breath before speaking to me again.

“I know baby, I miss you too, I wish you were here with me” I could hear his voice break as I looked intently at his eyes through the screen. “I don’t want you to feel alone, 17 more days and I’ll be back home”

I didn’t want to continue on the subject because I couldn't even stand myself when I got overwhelmed with my feelings. So we continued to talk about everything else that had been going on since he left.

But in my mind 17 days felt like a lifetime, a lifetime without Noah. 17 days without getting to see his face, 17 days without waking up to him in bed. 17 days of not being able to have his intoxicating scent around me.

For now I laid in bed, I had put on one of Noah’s t shirt, which fit me like a dress, but for now is the only way I could feel close to him. It made the wait for him a little more plausible.

NOAH’S POV

It had been almost an hour since my FaceTime call with y/n and all I could think about was her sad eyes. I hated not being able to be by her side.

I know the feeling of being alone and small all too well because I too felt the same when she wasn’t around. I always had this internal battle with myself of whether I should take a step back and be more involved in our relationship.

The boy and I were currently heading to the next city on our tour. We had 17 more days to go. 17 more days till I get to see her beautiful face.

“You okay, man?” Jolly asked, a bit intrigued.

“Uhh yeah, I’m alright” I said giving him half a smile.

“Doesn’t seem like it, do you wanna talk about it?” Nicholas chimed in emerging from the bunk area of the bus.

“I'm really okay, it’s y/n” I said

“Is she okay, what’s wrong?” I heard Jolly’s voice again with a tone of concern.

“Physically nothing. Mentally she’s having a hard time being alone” I took a deep breath. “I don’t like being away from her so long”

“I get it, it's tough being far away from our loved ones, but we gotta be strong,” Nicholas says, grabbing my shoulder.

“Yeah I know, sometimes it just feels like my life is passing by, with every exit sign, with every departing flight. It’s hard with so much time apart” I paused for a moment. “Sometimes my body aches and it hurts to say”

I could see the sympathy in both of my friends faces but I appreciate it the most that they were listening to me and I could vent to them without any sort of judgement.

“…. And I wish I weren’t here tonight…only tonight I wish I could be with her. But this is my life” my voice almost breaking. ”I don’t want to sound ungrateful I love what I do, I love what we do together, but sometimes is tough on both of us not being able to experience it together”

“Don’t worry Noah we will be home soon, and hey maybe next tour she’ll come with us” Nicholas says with a smile on his face.

“Yeah I hope so, thanks guys for listening to me” I tell them both.

“We’re here for you” Jolly tells me while he stands up and heads into his bunk.

While the rest of my mates where already asleep in their respective bunks I was in the living room area of the bus. Taking all of the scenery that's passing by through the window. I saw the sign which read we were already in a new state.i decided to text y/n before I went to sleep.

Hello, I’m in Delaware. 16 more days till we’re together. I love you. ❤️