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easy-there-leftovers · 1 year ago

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I See You, Darling (4)

[Astarion x reader] A little longer than usual, I hope that’s fine for all of you :,DDD I didn't want to cram too much into the post though, so the segment at the end might be continued in full detail, or maybe not! Let's see.|Word count: 2.9k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, allusions to sex, a few ooc characters, reader being a dumbass and wahtnot.

Part 3 here!!

Masterlist here!!

A party is being held at the camp in the heroes’ honor, which greets you with a lively crowd that you’ll hopefully meet again soon. And with a gathering this large, you’re bound to garner attention. But with a constitution as poor as yours from the night before, a round of drinks is the last thing you want.

Alternatively: A bloodless human tries to balance respectfully participating in a drinking party, while also not drinking at all.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

The sun rises, the warmth of its rays gently waking you in the absence of the campfire’s flames. The soft chirping of the birds greet you a good morning as your eyes slowly open, ready to greet the day as a new opportunity arises.

Is what would have happened in a more idyllic scenario. Instead, you bolt awake with a pounding headache, worse than any hangover could possibly feel like, and quickly rush to get up. By the sheer brightness of the light that burns your newly opened corneas, it is far later than when you usually wake. And breakfast still hasn’t been made.

“Well, good morning sleepy head.” One of your companions, Gale, says as he fixes his belongings. Readying himself for the skirmish that was about to take hold later on in the day.

“I’m very sorry for waking up late. It won’t happen again.” You bow your head low for a moment before he waves you off.

“Oh come now, we all have our off days. Besides, I think the rest would agree with me when I say what you made for us last night was more than enough to last us ‘til morning.” His statement is punctuated by the lively sounds of the others training. Ready and well rested for whatever may come.

You look around. None have seemed to mind your temporary absence, so you endeavor to double check with everyone leaving and ensure that they had a sound strategy with the necessary materials and weapons should there be a need for failsafes. You remind them of certain notes that some of them have informed you about but failed to share with the rest of the group.

‘While goblins typically go down faster than other opponents, they have no sense of honor nor pride which gives way for them the opportunity to use more underhanded tactics. But they also aren’t very bright, so you can convince the others to let them infiltrate the camp and eradicate them from the inside out.’

As the rest disperse, finalize their plans and check their supplies, your favorite character approaches you much like he usually does every morning. Only this time, you see that he looks very pleased. A more vibrant spark in his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Thank goodness you’ve finally woken up.” He looks at you, in the same way an old friend of yours would when they’re seconds away from telling a joke.

The look fades soon enough though as he breathes out. You wonder if it’s because the joke isn't funny anymore, or if he never had a punchline to begin with.

“You looked a little ill last night, but you’ve certainly recovered.” Recovered isn’t the word you would use to describe your current state of feeling almost half dead, but you don’t bother correcting the details.

“And you look particularly vibrant today, Astarion.” The itch of your neck intensifies as you return a pointed look at him as he frowns.

“Oh, of course! Now, don’t be so upset. I will admit that I got a little carried away, I apologize.” He pauses. The frown remains on his face for a while before it is erased with his usual expression of confidence.

“But let’s not fall out over this.” He moves to stand closer to you, taking your hand to his as he nears it to his lips as he continues.

“We need each other.”

And whether its done purposefully or not, you see his fangs peek out from his mouth and a shiver courses through your body.

You slip your hand out of his own in a panic and interject.

“I know that much already, and I trust you not to let what happened last night happen again. I also apologize for not noticing sooner and dealing with the situation better.” You hold your head down a bit to apologize but quickly meet his gaze gain. “But I do need to know what we’ll have to feed you from now on.”

The look of confusion, and perhaps even shock that was once swimming in his eyes dissipates before you can notice them when he swears upon his resolve. “No innocents, you have my word. After all, you know what I am now. I can fight with all my weapons–” He grins, allowing you a clearer view than what you had earlier. “Teeth included.”

“And if I happen to drain the occasional bandit during a fight, what's the harm? They’re just as dead.” He makes a very compelling argument, at least to your standards.

You sigh, satisfied for now. You’re confident that none of your party members would end up at the mercy of his fangs, and you’re more than sure they would be able to overpower him more than your attempts did. But the same sentiment cannot be shared for possibly important, plot driving, characters that you might meet later on.

So you propose something to strengthen your trust that the unlikely will stay the unlikely.

“Look, I’m–” You breathe in, almost as if you're trying to suck back whatever courage washed over you back in as you steeled yourself for what you were about to say next.

“I’m not against you feeding from me, but!” You punctuate the last syllable as you see his grin growing wider. “We need to discuss things beforehand. No prowling over me while waiting for me to wake up or to sink your teeth into.”

The proposal greatly delights him, as is evident in his response. “Of course! That sounds eminently reasonable. I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. But until then: no more late-night surprises. You have my word on that.”

After that, he makes a joke about feeling ‘peckish already,’ and quickly gathers the rest of the party to leave on their adventure.

You promise them a feast when they came back as the victors that they are. What you forgot, after what felt like weeks in the real world, was the crowd that would come filtering in to celebrate their heroes’ achievements as well.

————————————

When you saw the tieflings from the grove traveling alongside your companions, you knew they had come to celebrate. And you blanched at the thought of the provisions they’d be seeking to pair with their drinking. It’s been so long since you went through this event, and you no longer recall if they even ate anything during the party.

You look at your bubbling cauldron–– a bigger one as you had anticipated a few acquaintances accompanying them–– but you wager that at least a little extra things to nibble on won’t hurt to have. You still have quite the amount of camp supplies in the trunk, but you keep it reserved for the camp’s use only. So you smile at your returning comrades and alert the others that stayed behind for your reason to leave and that they can begin eating dinner.

While others told you it wasn’t necessary, the rest just nodded with a smile and yelled that they’d wait for you to return. You return quite too quickly though, all the while informing them why you’re keeping the communal chest in your tent as you spy the child that tried to steal and swindle the group a few days prior approaching with the rest.

They have a laugh and you quickly proceed with your plan to find at least a few consumable berries and nuts or seeds to accompany the drinks later on.

But foraging for said consumables near dark is a choice not for the faint-hearted. You came to realize this when you heard the low grumble of a large animal, thankfully far from your form. You turn to look behind you, taking great care to do so as slowly as possible so as to not alert the mysterious creature.

In the clearing, you spot a rather dark looking bear and you feel a cold sweat begin to form on your temple. Hands, growing wet in the dangerous situation you’ve placed yourself in. This wasn’t the same as being drained to death by a vampire, that, you could at least reason with. But a wild animal? With your lack of magical prowess and lesser knowledge of connecting with nature and the wild, you would be finished if it were to follow you.

The small pouch of nuts and wild berries stayed holstered on your waist, but the bear’s eyes that were previously low on the ground are now trained on you. Almost as if it were caught doing something it wasn’t supposed to be.

You freeze. You forgot what the basic policy was around brown or black bears and therefore couldn’t do much about your current predicament. There shouldn’t be a bear around this area, not unless they had traveled from far away, or that this bear was one of your future companions.

And while the latter isn’t impossible, you most certainly did not want to gamble your life on a possibility. So you tried to compose yourself, returned the gaze of the bear with a shaky and careful nod, and turned back to return to camp. Figuring that the amount of tidbits you gathered would have to suffice.

When you return, the company you shared seems to be in high spirits. Some more than others. But conversation was plentiful and you smiled as the tieflings cheered for your comrades. You quickly got to work and began to chop the nuts into thinner pieces. Something you learned to make the appearance of something look more abundant than it really is.

While you were chopping away unfortunately, you nick your finger along the way and silently curse. Unfortunate, but not an unforeseeable outcome given the booming drums of the bard that plays oh so nicely with your bloodless state. You quickly, but neatly, arrange the provisions on two small platters, and position them near the larger gatherings.

“Flitting around like a hummingbird as always, I see.” A familiar, but not immediately recognizable voice greets you as you pass them. You turn and you see an unexpected acquaintance with a bottle in their hand and an incredibly charming grin.

“Dammon! How lucky of me to run into you.” You genuinely were elated to see him. You didn’t see much of him later on in the game, and being able to interact with him beyond the opportunities given to you was certainly nice.

“I could say the same. Though you’re as lively as you usually are.” There’s no malice in his tone, only an innocent observation, yet you feel embarrassed to have been seen scuttling about like a bug.

“I– promise I’m more organized. I just didn’t expect us to be having any guests.” He takes notice of how you push your fingers into your palms repetitively, a small action that soothes you.

“I think you’ve done more than a fine job already. The celebration is for you all, and it was us who planned to come and might’ve put your friends on the spot.” He later takes notice of the cut on your finger as well.

“Speaking of,” He gingerly grasps your hand, looking to you for permission, but you’re too confused to respond with anything he can understand. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy for the night? You’ve done enough. And if what happened at the grove tells me anything about you, I’m sure they’ll survive even if you settle. Just for a bit.”

He leads you nearer to the water and produces a small washcloth to clean a bit of your finger as you respond. “The grove? They did that on their own. I just um, take notes.” You sit on a fallen tree, your head still fuzzy, as you observe his crouched form. Inspecting the cut as he cleans it.

A curious interaction. Not one that you’d expect from an non-romanceable NPC, but an interesting one nonetheless. And it would seem that someone had found it equally as interesting, if the way he scrutinizes you had anything to do about it.

He chuckles in turn. “If modesty is how you like to live, then I won’t impose.” He smiles and gets up as you continue your conversation. You don’t recall if the tiefling has ever had this much screen time, but his voice is rather lovely so you don’t complain about it.

You end up discussing quite a bit, but you focus on what can be done about your party. Specifically Karlach as you worry for the future and you’d like to have answers for her when he isn’t around during your journey. He doesn’t have much idea of what else can be done, but he does mention that he should have something by the time you meet him again in Baldur’s Gate.

You do remember that you might meet him a lot sooner, but you don’t mention it explicitly. You do, however, advise him to be extra careful around the oxen as they can be rather unpredictable this time of year.

As you continue, you notice his eyes flit up every now and then. Like something was catching his attention ever so often. You ask him about it and he actually laughs at your genuine inquiry. “It looks like I was wrong. Your friend there looks like he’d like his turn for your company.”

You turn around and you don’t immediately eye anyone looking in your direction. You were never the subtle type, so you looked around, blatantly searching for someone. It was a bit odd to see.

Your eyes do eventually train on his, but he doesn’t necessarily look like he wants to talk to you. Sure, he’s scowling away, though that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Besides, he has a bottle of something that you hope is helping him relax.

Still, perhaps Dammon saw something you didn’t so you politely thank him for his company and excuse yourself.

You greet the others that regard you as you walk past them. Declining the offers to drink and excusing yourself politely when you were asked to stay a bit.

As you approach him, a tiefling tries to strike up a conversation with him. With a bored look, he dismisses them and turns to look at you. He takes a sip, sneers, and begins his rant now that you’re situated in front of him.

“I hate it. This is awful.”

“The…wine?” He looks at you as if he should be mad, but a hint of amusement surfaces past the expression anyway.

“There’s that, but I’m talking about the tieflings. We killed some goblins to save the others. The tally of lives didn’t change much. But what do I get for my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” He looks down the neck of the bottle, swirling its contents before handing it out for you to take.

You look at the bottle, then him, warily. Modern alcohol is already a wonder to you, and this medieval mead could only do so much worse. Still, you take the bottle, and take a very small sip.

It’s a heavy, rich, red. Dry and sharp. You make a small sound of shock as you keep the liquid in your mouth. Offering him an awkward smile and a nod as you do.

“Ugh, see what I mean? Awful.”

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” You would think that after an entire day of fighting whatever was out there he’d be tired. Apparently not.

You sigh, ready to reprimand him and that he should just enjoy the night, but you stop when you feel his unburdened hand reach out to you. Eyes, boring into your own as he propositions you.

You’re here. Face in the grasp of a character you’ve longed to romance with what little time you’ve had away from your scholarly pursuits. Yet meeting him in strange, yet not all too unfamiliar, territory stirs uncertainty within you. Because while he doesn't have a knife at your throat like he did when your character first met him, it certainly does evoke the same sentiment.

‘To, “make me his”, is that right?’ While the idea is tempting, that statement alone can have various interpretations. And you didn’t want to hedge your bets on the one that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Thankfully, he releases his hold on your visage. Only the gods know how much his touch alone can influence you, and you struggle to stand upright.

“I’m– very,-- truly, sorry, but don’t you think you have the wrong person? I mean,” You gesture to yourself with both hands, a cut visible from the labor in the few hours prior to the large festivities going on.. “Uh…in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in a position to make any um, lucrative offers.”

He looks at you, a familiar expression graces his face. He leans his weight on one leg, and you struggle to recognize what his body language is conveying. This is one of those instances you wished you had the dice roll mechanic of the game at your disposal.

“Why, that hardly matters, darling. What matters is that you’re here.” He takes a sip from his bottle, the very same that he allowed you to partake from moments prior. Only this time, without the sneer at the aftertaste as he continues.

“But then again, what’s a sinner to do when faced with the very embodiment of chastity?” A smile graces his face, but it’s one that is all too perfect. As if he’s rehearsed the same song and dance enough to save him lifetimes.

“Let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep we’ll find each other.”

You have no idea what to expect. Well, you do, but you’re not very sure if this is necessary. You’ll just have to find a way to continue the story without having to go through with this. For now, at least.

“We’ll see about that, Astarion.”

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Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, @izuoyarmin, @gracemisconduct, @kiinokochii, @marina-and-the-memes, and @life-is-hard-m8 for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#possibly also a Dammon x reader?#slight!!#Slight Dammon x reader

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lovelyflora21 · 4 months ago

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I hate everyone else in the world (but you)

Summary: Drunk and in pain, Leon had an affinity for saying things he might not have meant to. Twice he did so. One was able to offer solace and comfort, the other the opposite.

Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Tags: TW! Alcohol abuse, slight mentions of PTSD, depression. Angst. Hurt.

A/n: Hello! So this is my first attempt at writing again after such a long ass hiatus and break! This is also my very first (and hopefully not the last) attempt on writing a fic for Leon lol, this one’s gonna be a bit angsty! I wrote this with Vendetta!Leon and DI!Leon in mind, inspired by that one TikTok audio from Euphoria’s Rue and Jules’ scene and her infamous quote with TV Girl’s Not Allowed, playing in the background.

Hopefully you guys will like this one as much as I like writing it! Enjoy!

Wc: 1.5k

I hate everyone else in the world but you…

Was what Leon had drunkenly told her once. So lost in his drunken stupor that he’d blurted out those words in a brief moment of vulnerability and honesty. He might’ve as well said those three words instead. But it was the truth, and Leon S Kennedy was no liar. He was never good with lies anyways, why try now? And in response, she simply gave him that God-forsaken half smile of hers. Leon remembered vividly, despite being shit-faced drunk, how she simply shook her head then helped him off the couch to clean up.

I know. She whispered, more like to herself than to him. Then everything else after that was a blur.

It was sort of a routine. After that particular nightmare of a mission, Leon would drown himself in endless bottles of Jack Daniels or whatever alcoholic beverage he could lay his hands on. He was pretty much banned from the local bar he’d frequented so often, and no for the record, it wasn’t because he’d start up unnecessary shit–no. It was because of how much he’d drunk; to the point that the bartenders and keepers made it a point that they were concerned with the amount of alcohol he’d swallow in one seating.

Concerned. Leon finds it rather funny and ironic, in a way that; bars made money from selling alcohol to anyone who would be drinking them and yet here he was, getting banned all because they were concerned with him? He was a regular, he didn’t mind burning his money on alcohol! They should have been grateful! He was a regular, a paying one at that and he doesn’t start up shit! They were making money! And yet, he got banned anyway.

In reality, concerned was an understatement…

So he figured, what the hell right? He’s just gonna find an alternative, buy some from the local bodega or some shit and get shit-faced drunk in the comforts of his somber and dark, shitty apartment.

The apartment was fine before all this, decorated it minimalistically so he didn’t have too much stuff piling up and it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle for him to look after; but after the–after it happened, he just didn’t care enough to look after the damn place. Hell, he barely looked after himself. Leon was barely even showering. He’d shower once every two or three days, and didn't even care at all if people were giving him weird and funny looks for how disheveled he looked. Leon used to be pretty active and social, he would go for a light jog every morning before work or in the evenings after work, then shower and have dinner or maybe go on dates with her. But now? Now, his routine consisted of waking up in the middle of the day, eat whatever leftover was in the fridge, go back to sleep, wake up again then get so drunk he could barely remember anything then pass out on the couch then wake up with the worst hangover and repeat the same damned thing all over again. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

It wasn’t helping him at all that the DSO was putting him on a temporary break too. He’d honestly much prefer to be sitting on his desk working on reports than rotting and wasting away like this.

But then she caught wind of this. This revelation. That the great, brave and strong Leon S Kennedy; the renowned agent that helped rescue the President’s Daughter and formed the DSO, has now become lessened to that of a drunk alcoholic. So jaded and bitter with the loss of his–no, no, he became jaded after, after…after it happened. That he resorted to alcohol rather than face his issues head on. Rather than see a shrink and work on it.

So the first time she came back around, it wasn’t easy. To have her, his muse, his flower, the only innocent and untouched being in his life, sees him this messed up and broken. He lashed out at her at first, then he broke down. For the first time. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was finally able to cry.

It’s okay, cry it out, let it all out. I’m here. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I’m not letting you go. I got you.

Then he looked into her eyes and said it.

I hate everyone else in the world but you…

And the rest was history.

Then it was another new routine for him. She was always there, looking after him…looking after the place. Made sure he was eating, made sure he’d get cleaned up, made sure he was sleeping properly.

But he still couldn’t get over his drinking problems. Not anytime soon it seems…

Other people would have already abandoned him by now. Said it was all in vain, said he’d destroy her before he could ever get better. But she, she never gave up on him.

Until one night…

Leon had promised her, for a day, he wouldn’t touch anything that has alcohol in it and he’d finally go to therapy. It was paid and provided for by the DSO, as they should be. But he didn’t…

He never attended that one session (or the sessions before and after, she should’ve known better), instead that afternoon he went to the nearest bodega and got himself bottles of Jack Daniels. Then he went back home and got shit-faced drunk. Again. Like always.

And when she came over later in the evening, after she got off work; she was furious. More disappointed than furious, really. To find out that he didn’t go to therapy and he was drunk.

Then it was some back and forth arguing and Leon said some things he didn’t mean to.

Typical of a drunk, how typical of Leon.

See, the thing is, she was one to believe that; whatever came out from someone’s mouth whenever they were drunk meant that it was the raw and most unfiltered truth they wish they could’ve said out loud sober.

So when Leon said, “What is this now, you think you could nurse me back to the old Leon?! You thought out of all the people in this whole goddamn world, you could be the one to save me from being, from being this?! I tell you what sweetheart, you never cared about me, what you do have is a savior complex!”

It had been even uncharacteristic of Leon to say those things. And out of all the people he knew, towards her, too.

Cruel would be an understatement.

Leon wished he had stopped at that. Wished he had stopped and apologized to her after, but nope. He didn’t. Instead, when he saw her tear-filled eyes and her pursed lips, he went and sprinkle some salt on her wound.

“What now, you gonna cry and run away? Gonna cut me off too like how you cut off your other friends and exes? Right, you do. Because that’s what you always do! Run away and cut off everyone whoever said an ounce of truth to you, not wronged you–no, the truth!”

Then there was silence, save for his hard and heavy breathing that filled the space.

Leon remembers and forgets a lot of things. This is one that he’d hate to remember and unable to forget.

He remembered the way she stepped back, looked into his eyes and said it.

I hate you.

Then she disappeared from his apartment and disappeared from his life as well, after making it clear that she was done.

He tried reaching out to her, that very same night. Then the days that followed after, the weeks after. After Colorado. After New York.

She disappeared. Just like that.

So Leon gave up on looking for her.

And after a year, he thought he’d already forgotten about her completely. Thought he’d moved on.

He thought, after going to therapy, talking to his friends more and avoiding alcohol as much as possible; he’d finally move past that night. Move past her.

But it seemed he was wrong.

So when Leon was strolling down the streets of San Francisco during his free time, before his supposed mission–and he thought he’d heard a familiar voice, he couldn’t help but to look towards the source of that angelic voice. Could it be…?

And there she was. Gorgeous as always. Beautiful and bright, warm like the morning’s first ray of sunshine. A basket of flowers and groceries hung on her elbow.

So she did move away. That’d explain a lot.

Leon’s body had a mind of its own, approaching her before he could even process everything.

Hey there.

And suddenly everything came flooding back to him.

I hate everyone else in the world but you

But you, you who I’ve hurt so much more than anyone else in the world.

You who didn’t deserve the pain I had inflicted upon you. It was unfair. And I am so so so sorry. Wish I could take it all back. You didn’t deserve it. And then there was silence between him and her. Two birds, once of the same feather; and now? Now on opposite ends.

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#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy angst #angst with a happy ending #light angst #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #vendetta!leon kennedy #di!leon kennedy #Youtube

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slut4thebroken · 10 months ago

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Erotomania pt. 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jon isn’t adjusting as well as you thought he would and his behavior finally breaks you.

Warnings | Angst, violence (on accident lol), blood, eating disorder? (technically), slow burn, a lil bit of sexual tension, he’s still really mean, and a little whiny lol.

Words | 4.3 k

Notes | Ty for everyone who helped me out w this lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

gif: @kittenonpluto

Part 1

The following morning, you woke up to your alarm and immediately turned it off. Your head hurt, your eyes felt puffy, and you were just so tired and drained. So you decided to call off work. As you were trying to fall back asleep, you almost didn’t register the sound of your door opening because of how tired you were.

“You’re going to be late.” You whined and buried your face in the pillow.

“I’m not going.” You mumbled.

“Get up. I don’t want to be stuck with you the entire day.” He said sternly, bringing back all the emotions you were feeling last night.

“I’ll stay in here then. I don’t exactly feel like doing much else besides this.” The bitterness in your tone was mostly overshadowed by the sadness you were desperately trying to hide. You waited for his response, but after a while, he just slammed the door shut.

True to your word, you mostly stayed in your room. You left to go to the bathroom and sometimes get food, but you didn’t eat with him. The day was spent reading, doing some work to make up for missing a day, trying to distract yourself so you didn’t make yourself cry, and moping. Every time you went out he was always in the exact same spot. Before dinner, you showered and changed into some clean pajamas, not wanting to physically feel the same way you felt mentally.

“Have you eaten today?” He almost seemed startled by your voice. “If you tell me what you want, I can try to make it.” You said softly. He didn’t respond or look at you and you sighed before continuing. “Why aren’t you eating?” You were quickly growing frustrated with his behavior.

“You’re the psychologist, you tell me.” Deep down you knew why, especially based on his words yesterday, but you were still hoping it would be because of some kind of temporary hunger strike or something instead.

“You’d really rather die than be here with me?” You couldn’t help the way your voice broke.

“Yes.” He spat and you immediately frowned as your bottom lip trembled.

“Fine.” You grabbed a carving knife from the knife stand and stormed over to him, making him quickly stand up and take a step away from you. Once you were a few feet from him, you tossed the knife onto the ground in front of him. “Do it then. If this is so terrible and you hate me so much then just fucking do it.” He stared at the knife and you waited impatiently.

“Or better yet, kill me.” That made him look up again. “I know you want to— and I can’t fucking take this anymore so just do it.” He stared at you, then narrowed his eyes.

“Are you serious? My rejection is making you suicidal?” He scoffed. Your eyes burned with tears and you rushed forward, making him step back, but you reached for the knife on the floor instead of him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Now that it’s in your hand, you don’t know how you should do it— The carotid should hopefully be quick. When you raised the knife, he rushed forward and grabbed your arm, yanking it away from you.

“Stop!” You cried, pulling back against his hold, trying to wrench yourself free.

“Are you fucking crazy?” He asked, beginning to raise his voice now. His grip on your arm tightened as his other hand tried to take the knife from you. When you let out a choked sob and started crying, your arm went slack and the force of him pulling it away from yourself made your hand fly toward him. He couldn’t stop it before the blade sliced the top of his chest, making you gasp as he winced. He released you and staggered back, and you dropped the knife as if it had burned you.

“Oh god— fuck. Are you okay?” His hand was pressed tight to the wound so you couldn’t see how bad it was but the pain on his face was evident. When you moved toward him, he stepped back again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Even through the pain, his tone was still incredibly harsh.

“I- I’m sorry. It was an accident.” You took another tentative step and he did the same, but his back met the wall. He leaned his weight against it and took a deep breath as his eyes fluttered shut. You quickly wiped your tears and tried to calm down long enough to think of what to do.

As you examined him, you noticed the blood seeping through his fingers as his arm grew tired holding his hand tightly against the wound. You also noticed how pale and sweaty he got in that short amount of time. He was putting as much of his weight on the wall as he could now.

Deciding to start with the imperative, you moved closer until you were in front of him and removed his hand to look at the wound, then put pressure on it. It wasn’t… that bad— it wouldn’t need stitches, but it still almost made you gag. He winced and opened his eyes as if to make sure he wasn’t just imagining you daring to come this close.

“Get the fuck.. off…” His words slurred together and you could tell he was fighting to keep his eyes open. When his knees buckled, you tried to hide your distress, but that and the blood seeping through your fingers made it almost impossible to do so.

“Okay.. okay, hang on.” You looked around for something to absorb the bleeding but there was nothing nearby other than a blanket that you haven’t washed recently. Tentatively releasing him, making sure he wouldn’t fall, you took your shirt off— feeling incredibly grateful that you decided to wear a bra— and pushed it against the wound. He let out a pained groan and your heart panged, knowing you were only worsening his suffering. “I know, I’m sorry. I have to press hard though.” He didn’t respond and just started sliding down the wall as his eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck.. fall on the couch, fall on the couch,” You held him up and guided him to the couch just as he lost consciousness.

You could feel his chest moving under your hands so you knew he wasn’t dead, you were just worried about how to solve the malnutrition issue while he was unconscious. It’s not like you have an IV… so you’ll just have to wait until he’s awake.

Lifting your shirt from his chest, you checked on the bleeding— it was definitely less, but it was still bleeding a decent amount. So you continued pushing down on it. While you waited, you let out a heavy breath and closed your eyes. That escalated so quickly, it felt like you’d been holding your breath since you picked up the knife.

After a few minutes you checked again and decided it would be okay for you to run to the bathroom to grab a few things as well as some water and painkillers really quickly. When you returned, you kneeled on the couch next to him and tried to lift up the shirt he was wearing. Since it was yours, it was already a little tight on him, so it barely moved, especially because his back was against the couch.

Minding the gash, you carefully took both sides of the now cut fabric and pulled as hard as you could. It ripped a lot easier than you were expecting though and was now torn from the collar to the bottom hem. You cleared your throat and tried to keep your eyes on the wound, but couldn’t help it when your eyes strayed to the exposed skin. You could distinctly see the outline of his sternum and ribs and you stifled a gasp as you pushed the shirt open more— no wonder he passed out, he looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

The sight of blood trailing down his chest snapped you out of your trance and you made quick work of using the damp washcloth to clean as much of the blood off as you could. When he wakes up, you’ll have him go to the bathroom so he can wash with soap and water, but for now you covered it with the largest bandaid you had, then sagged back into the couch with a heavy breath, just needing a second to calm down.

After what felt like hours but was only about 15 minutes, he woke up with a groan. You grabbed the water bottle and took out three pills, having them ready for him. His eyes fluttered open, squinting at the bright light, and he scowled when he saw you next to him.

“Take this.” You held it out to him and he looked down at his chest, then let his head fall back into the couch again as his eyes closed. “Please take it. It’ll help with the pain.”

“How did I get here?” He rasped, voice strained.

“You passed out and I wanted you to fall here instead of the floor.” You wanted to reprimand him for not eating but you knew now wasn’t the time. It almost seemed like he wasn’t taking the painkillers out of spite, but after a moment, he huffed and held his hand out. You handed everything to him and he only drank enough water to take the pills.

“You have to drink it. The whole reason you passed out is because of how malnourished you are.” You urged gently.

“The whole reason I passed out is because you stabbed me.”

“Jon, please just drink it.” You said, exacerbated. All he did was glare at you so you let out a disappointed sigh and stood up to go to the kitchen. He didn’t say anything as you started pulling things out and cooking. You weren’t exactly sure what the best option would be for malnutrition and blood loss, but you figured something with high protein and iron would be a good start.

When you walked back over with a plate of grilled chicken breast and steamed spinach, he raised his brows as you held it out to him. You were pleased to see that while you were busy, he did drink some of the water.

“What?” He asked, when you just waited for him to take it.

“You need to eat. Clearly you don’t want to starve to death since you tried to stop me so just quit being so goddamn stubborn and eat the fucking food.” Your tone got significantly harsher by the end of the sentence and he almost seemed shocked. After a moment, he huffed, but took it from you anyway. You sat down next to him and tried to ignore how the smell of the chicken was roaring your stomach back to life.

“After you finish eating, you should clean it with soap and water.” You said quietly. “I can help if you want.”

“I’m fine.”

“I haven’t used that knife in ages, it wasn’t exactly sterile. You need to clean it or it’ll get infected.”

“I’ve had worse.” Now that you weren’t focused on the large gash, you could see a few scars on the exposed skin of his torso.

“Fine.” You stood up and left to grab two clean washcloths, a bottle of soap, and a bowl that you filled with water. When you walked back over and set the items on the coffee table, he narrowed his eyes and scowled at you, watching you get down on your knees in front of him. You reached for the bandage and he circled your wrist in a bruising grip. So you moved your other hand forward and he did the same thing, but winced when the motion made his shoulder shift. “If you let me do this I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

“We’re not going to fucking play nurse. I can do it myself.” He spat.

“I believe you. But I don’t believe that you actually will.” You challenged, making him roll his eyes with a scoff. “The quickest way to get rid of me is to let me do this.” He clenched his jaw and looked away from you for a moment, then released your wrists, letting you continue with your original plan of removing the bandage. When you ripped it off, he hissed in pain and you glanced at him nervously. “Sorry.” You said sheepishly.

You hesitantly pushed the shirt open a little more, worried it would make him snap, but he just glared at you, letting you do it. Once you had enough room, you dipped the washcloth in the water then squirted some soap on it and worked it into the fabric. Getting up on your knees a little more, you shuffled closer, ignoring the feeling of his leg against your side— or… trying to, at least.

“I'm sorry again.” You said quietly as you started cleaning it. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen.” When you looked up at him, he was still watching you carefully, his guard fully up. “I’ll see if I can get something stronger for the pain when I go back to work.” You let your focus move back down to the task at him, trying not to blush under the heat of his gaze.

“That’s illegal, you know.” He murmured, sounding uncharacteristically… neutral.

“So is breaking out a criminal.” You countered. You didn’t really like talking about him like that though. Sure, he’s technically a criminal, but anyone failed that many times was bound to walk away without their sanity completely intact.

“You think I deserve to be in there?” He asked after a moment of silence. You couldn’t decipher his tone and you looked up at him again, his eyes a little softer now.

“I don’t think anyone deserves to be in that hell hole.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Your hand slowed to a stop, resting against his chest.

“I think… given your history, it would’ve been a miracle if you grew up “normal.’” You said quietly. “I think you deserve to be in there for the things you’ve done, but not just to be imprisoned, to get help.”

“If you’re going to survive there, you need to learn this sooner rather than later; the people in there have no remorse for what they’ve done, and neither do I.” He warned.

“I can’t let myself believe that.”

“Those people don’t want to be saved. I mean seriously, did you think our little talk sessions would change me? Make me a better man?” He cooed mockingly, making you frown.

“I hoped they’d help you work through your trauma. After that? I wouldn’t need to do much else.” He scoffed at that, all but rolling his eyes.

“You think I don’t know how to identify the root of what made me so fucked up?” His voice was back to the viciousness that you’ve started getting used to.

“No, I think you do know how to identify it. I just think you don’t know how to overcome it.” You said calmly, trying not to agitate him any further.

“I do not need to be lectured about trauma by someone who would’ve been my subordinate.” He snapped.

“I’m not lecturing you, Jon. And don’t you think there’s maybe a reason why you’re getting so defensive right now?” He clenched his jaw and let out a heavy breath through his nose.

“Fine. If you’re so interested in psychoanalysis, why don’t we talk about you then?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,”

“Your need for my praise and approval is almost pathetic.” He cut you off, making your mouth instantly close. “You’re so fucking desperate for it— Why do you think that is?” He tilted his head slightly and you swallowed the lump in your throat, barely able to look at him. “You break down at just the slightest amount of rejection. I mean for fucks sake- you literally tried to kill yourself because of it.”

“Stop it, Jon.” You said quietly.

“C’mon.. I’m sure you’ve heard of something that fits that description, even if it’s not an official disorder.” He said facetiously. “Personally, I think I’d just use the word “delusional.’”

“That’s not what this is! I love you.” He raised his brows and gave you a knowing look, so you doubled down. “Being in love does not make me crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t. But kidnapping someone and trying to kill yourself because you were rejected certainly does.” You paused and tried to control your expression so he didn’t know how much his words were affecting you.

“I didn’t.. kidnap you. I got you out of there, like you wanted.” You said quietly. “And having you here is keeping you safe from being found and sent back to Arkham again.” He scoffed a disbelieving laugh and looked away from you. So you sighed and resumed cleaning the wound.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to help you sleep at night.” He muttered, making your frown deepen. You looked at him for another moment, then sighed and tried to finish cleaning quickly.

Once you were done and another bandage was in place, you got up and headed toward your bedroom. You searched your closet for something he could wear, but the only thing you had that he’d be able to get into easily was a zip up hoodie. So you grabbed that and walked back out, which he clearly wasn’t pleased with since he probably thought you’d be gone longer.

“Lean forward.” You said softly, sitting next to him to help put it on, making him scowl.

“I can dress myself.” He spat and you sighed, but agreed, watching him struggle to get it on. Eventually, he succeeded and you leaned back on the couch when he continued eating, keeping your eyes down so you didn’t make him uncomfortable. “Are you planning on staying half nude?” Your entire face heated up when you realized you’ve yet to replace your shirt. You were just so anxious and upset that you didn’t even notice it.

“N-no. Sorry.” Your voice cracked embarrassingly and you stood up to go grab a shirt from your room. He was on the last few bites of food when you walked back out. “Are you feeling any better?”

“It fucking hurts.” He grumbled. You checked the time, seeing that it was already past seven.

“I can try and go right now to get you something for the pain.” You suggested and he scoffed in response.

“Do you want to lose your job?” That made you frown— you just wanted to help. “You stop by after hours for whatever reason and eventually they notice something’s missing and you think you won’t be made the primary suspect immediately?”

“Okay, I get it.” You sighed. “I'm sorry. I was just trying to help.” You looked away from him as you thought of what else you could do. There aren’t any over the counter pain relievers that are any stronger than what you already gave him. “Wait,” You suddenly stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “I don’t know if you have a preference but either way it should help. It affects the central nervous system so the pain doesn’t seem as bad,”

“I know how it works, I’m not an idiot.” He snapped. “But you must be if you think I’ll willingly intoxicate myself around you.” Even though his words stung, you tried not to take it personally and just move on from the insult.

“It’ll help, Jon.”

“I don’t care.” You sighed, then walked back over and sat down again, keeping your eyes on your lap. You felt horrible. The only reason he’s in pain is because you were acting irrationally.

“I know it won’t make it better, but I really am sorry.” You said quietly, chancing a glance at him.

“I thought you promised to leave me alone if I let you play nurse.” He huffed.

“Right. Okay, I’ll… I’ll go.” You cleared your throat and tried to hide your disappointment as you stood up. “If you want to shower, there are towels in the hall closet.” You offered. When he didn’t respond again, you sighed quietly and went to your room to leave him alone.

You woke in the middle of the night and tried to go back to sleep since you had to be up for work in a few hours, but you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that something happened while you were asleep. Like the wound was infected and he was dead.

That thought was a little extreme, but it was enough to get you out of bed to go check on him. He was asleep, laying on his back, and you moved closer to slowly unzip the jacket enough to see it. He hadn’t bled through the bandaid and you gently lifted a corner to see inside. Everything looked fine. At least you thought it did… You’re not that kind of doctor.

When you zipped it back up, you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. He looked so peaceful, not angry or full of hatred. You wished he’d look like that all the time.

Once you were satisfied knowing he wasn’t dead, you managed to fall back asleep. When you got up again, you somehow woke up fully after the first alarm so you were about twenty minutes ahead of schedule. You walked into the kitchen, still in your pajamas, and saw that he was awake this time.

“Do you want some coffee? Actually,” you knew he wouldn’t answer it like that, “how do you take your coffee?” He scoffed a laugh and you couldn’t help but blush even though he was clearly laughing at you, not with you.

“Black.” Was all he said, but it made you smile so big that it almost hurt your cheeks. It felt like you were finally getting somewhere with him. Walking over with two mugs, you handed one to him, then sat down, much to his displeasure. “Don’t you have to get ready?”

“I woke up early.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee. “You need to eat and quite frankly I don’t have many options here so I’m going to stop somewhere after work. What do you want?”

“I’m fine.” He muttered, drinking the coffee and keeping his eyes straight ahead instead of on you.

“That’s not what I asked.” You said firmly— you had no clue where this boldness was coming from. He looked over at you with raised brows, almost… impressed.. by your audacity. “There must be something you’ve been craving since being in there. Tell me what it is and I’ll get it.” He huffed but seemed to understand that the quickest way to get rid of you is to just answer.

“There’s a Southern place in Otisburg, right across the street from the Botanical Gardens. I don’t have a preference, I like everything they have.” You smiled, happy that you finally got a real answer out of him. Even though it’s out of your way, you’re excited that he actually shared something with you and agreed to eat.

“Perfect. I can stop by the store too. Do you want anything specific for breakfast or lunch?”

“Eggs.” He said simply, almost making you laugh.

“Eggs it is. Anything else?”

“What you have here is fine.” At least that means he looked and considered eating.

“Do you like the coffee? Or should I get a different one.” He huffed, clearly getting annoyed with your questions.

“It's coffee.”

“Well, I like blonde roast. I don’t know if you prefer dark roast or something.” You said defensively. He didn’t answer so you assumed that meant he didn’t care what kind of coffee you had. You checked the time and decided you could sit here for five more minutes before you should start getting ready. You didn’t want to bother him so you just stared out the window, smiling at the way the morning sun was peeking through the buildings. If you ignored the very obvious contempt he has for you, this moment could’ve been perfect.

“Does it still hurt?” You asked, turning to face him and blushing when you noticed his eyes were already on you. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he’d been caught though.

“Not as much.” He finally looked away and took another drink.

“Do you think you still need something stronger than what I have here?”

“I’ll be fine.” His tone left no room for argument, but you could tell he wasn’t being truthful.

“Okay…” You said, still unsure. “Can I just check it really quick? Then I’ll leave you alone and go get ready.” He let out an exasperated huff and rolled his eyes, annoyed by your concern. But once again, he seemed to understand that the fastest way to get rid of you was to just agree.

“Fine.” He grumbled, leaning back on the couch. You set your mug on the coffee table and scooched closer to him, getting on your knees on the couch so you could fully face him. You slowly reached for the zipper as if approaching a wild animal that could attack at any moment. He didn’t say or do anything as you unzipped it and pushed it aside. You lifted half of the bandage and leaned closer to get a better look as your fingers delicately ran over the skin around it.

“It looks like it’s scabbing.” You said absentmindedly. “So that’s good at least.” When you looked up at him, you suddenly noticed how close you’d gotten. You also noticed the way his eyes snapped up from your body to your face. You blushed, now hyper aware of the small, thin pajama set you were wearing. Clearing your throat, you quickly zipped up the hoodie again and leaned back. “It— Try to wash it today please.” He almost looked amused by your flustered state. “I… I should— I’m going to get ready now.” You quickly grabbed your mug and stood up, practically running to your room.

Part 3

Again, sorry it’s cut a little awkwardly lol. This was written as a one shot.

Taglist (join here)

@cillianslvt @69your-best-night-mare69

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut

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mcondance · 2 years ago

Text

“and i wish that i could be with you tonight, you give me butterflies”

butterflies — oj haywood

pairing oj haywood x Black!afab fem reader

contents slow burn, kinda, but not too much. little bit of angst and self doubt. canon-compliant except holst and jupe did not die, smut (unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), creampies, it gets rough for like one scene but nothing too crazy)

words 8.8k

notes handful of michael jackson references (like 3) so if you don't like michael kill yourself, oh also the title is from butterflies by michael too, this is a re-upload from my old blog!

The pictures of the horses are beautiful, but the horses themselves? They’re gorgeous. After seeing countless pictures of them and marveling at the still images, you ask Holst who’s horses they are, and if their owner would be okay with you popping up for just a second.

The drive is long as hell, some big ass ranch out in Agua Dulce, far from anything except for Jupe’s Theme Park. You make plans to visit one day. Today you’re on a mission to lay eyes on some of the most beautiful animals you’ve seen. Which is saying a lot, since you work with pictures of Holst’s animals all day.

The man that meets you at the ranch is.. not amused. In fact, he looks extremely annoyed. It seems like Holst is a liar.

“Who are you?” he asks, face scrunched up from the heat of the sun, hands on his hips, body language giving stand-offish. You give him your name and he barely acknowledges it. He would much rather know why you’re here and what you want.

“I, um, I work with Holst.” you say with a nervous smile, his displeasure at your unexpected and uninvited presence evident. “I just saw some pictures of the horses and I had to see them in person.”

Hearing your reasoning for basically trespassing on his ranch strikes a bit of a nerve in him. He’s never met someone who’s that interested in the horses. But he wants to get this over with quickly. He got shit to do, and you just interrupted the horses feeding time.

He turns, nods in a gesture that you take as him telling you to follow him, and walks off. You follow closely, but not too close. You don’t wanna seem like more of a weirdo than you’re sure you already do.

“You drove all the way out here just to see my horses?” he questions, leaning on the arena near a pretty brown horse as he waits for you to catch up.

“Yeah.” you nod. “I been seeing pictures of them for some months now and i just wanted to see them in person.”’

“Mhm.” he nods, reaching up to sift some dirt off of Lucky’s mane.

You step a little closer to the arena, and Oj figures you want to pet Lucky. “Come ‘ere.“ He nods his head again, this time gesturing you to follow him towards the horse. You do, falling into place beside him.

“Gimme your hand.” He reaches for you and meets you in the middle and places it on Lucky. His hair is soft and silky, hot from the California sun, and you can tell just from a feel that Oj takes good care of him, of all of his horses. He’s gentle with your hand, holds it and guides you. That makes heat rise in your cheeks, heat that’s definitely not caused by the sun beating down on you two.

Then Oj pulls his hand away from yours, casting his eyes over the expanse of land.

That breaks you out of your awe-induced stupor.

“I gotta get home.” you say, walking off before he gets the chance to say anything.

On the way home, you have flashes of the cowboy playing through your mind, the burning heat on your hand remaining from his touch, and a couple of butterflies find a hopefully temporary home in your stomach.

—

The next day, you come back.

You find him in the stables this time, throwing hay into the stalls.

Oj’s surprised. Usually, people pet the horses, hang around for a little while, and then lose interest.

“Hey, Oj.” you wave happily.

“Hey. You wanna help me feed them?” He assumes that you’d like to, since you’ve shown some interest in them. And of course you do.

It’s not easy, the bales of hay heavier than you anticipated. But you take the work in stride. It’s not too hard, not when you get to admire these beautiful animals and see how they work. And, to be honest, you like seeing how their owner works as well.

He’s so handsome, with his pretty brown skin, glistening with sweat, the image of a hard-working man. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how, but the cowboy thing is working for him and on you. He’s captivating, his dedication to his horses and his quiet demeanor working together to have you tripping over your words and feet around him.

You could blame it on the heat, or you could blame it on the feeling of his eyes on you the entire time. You’re sure he’s just trying to make sure you don’t fuck up his horses, but you can’t lie, it’s nice to feel for just a second that a man like this is interested in you.

When he asks how long you’ve been working for Holst, it’s like you completely forget the last 8 months of your life. You stutter over your words, and you’re quite literally confused on how you could stutter over two simple words. Still, you do, and you’re sure you just setback any progress you made in getting Oj to find you at all attractive and worth being around.

Because that’s the problem. That’s the dilemma. Here you have a man, who’s happiest in solitude and quiet, and here you are, talkative and loud, and you think you want him to want you. That’s the problem you have. And it’s a big, inescapable problem.

He tells you to hang back by the door of one stable while you’re thinking, telling you that this horse doesn’t take too kindly to strangers. That gives you another chance to really take him in.

He’s so goddamn attractive, and you’re so glad he’s so focused on the horse, because you’re shamelessly staring at his thighs, visibly thick through the denim of jeans. His chest is built; it’s visible under his shirt, too.

And the butterflies are there once again, accompanied by the heat encompassing your entire being.

It isn’t quite professional to be eyeing one of your coworker’s business partners like this, but you’re too caught up in your reverie to care.

And then Oj turns around, and you snap out of it as fast as you can. Not fast enough, you suppose, because he asks you if you’re okay when he makes it back over to you.

“You good?” he asks. “The heat is a lot. You can go if you’re getting too hot.”

“No, no, I’m good!” you nod, reassuring him through a heavy breath.

“You sure?” he pushes, eyes fixed on yours.

“Yeah.” you nod, but you’re not at all okay. He’s close enough that you can feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you have to suppress a chuckle at his previous choice of words. You are getting too hot.

It’s just.. with the way he towers over you, looking down at you under the brim of his hat, the way his pretty brown skin shines with sweat, the way he’s so fucking warm and his lips look so goddamn nice, you can barely focus on anything else. And the way he’s staring at you like he wants to do something more than stare has you questioning if Holst would be upset if you kissed his business partner after only knowing him for like 2 days.

A horse neighs. Oj backs up immediately. You have to go, have to get from around Oj before you do some reckless shit.

“That was the last horse, right?” you ask shakily, uneasiness leaking into your voice.

“Yeah.” he nods, hands on his hips, his stance driving you insane.

“I guess that’s my cue, then.” you respond, walking off before he can even fit another word in.

On the drive home, Oj’s the only thing on your mind.

—

Visiting the Haywood ranch this time is for two reasons.

One: you want to ride one of the horses.

And Two: Oj fucking Haywood.

This time, surprisingly, he isn’t outside with the horses. You hear music playing from the house, so you assume he’s in there. Before you can even knock, the door opens, and you’re met with the face of the man you think you’re developing feelings for.

“Hey.” he greets you.

“Hey!”

“If you wanted to feed them or something, it’s past their feeding ti-”

“No!” you cut him off before he can shut you down and send you home. “I was hoping you’d take me, uh, horse riding.” You say it like a question, eyes searching his face for any emotion, any answer to your question. The music playing is a glaring foil to your current feelings, smooth reggae contrasting with your hyper aware and scrambled mind. You don’t know how he does it.

“Yeah. I’ll take you horse riding.” he nods, stepping out of his house and closing the door. He clicks at you in that certain way, jerks his head in what you know to be directing you towards the horses.

“Which one?” he asks when you both make it to the stables.

“Lucky.” you answer. “I’ve liked him since I saw the pictures of him.” Once it leaves your mouth, you’re sure it sounds weird. But his reaction, a warm smile that seems genuine, tells you otherwise. Perhaps he’s growing as fond of you as you are of him.

After he saddles Lucky up, he calls you over to the horse.

“Okay, so I’m gonna help you up. You ready?” he asks, leaning down to cup his hands together. You nod, throwing one hand over Lucky and stepping into his hands. He boosts you up, and then he’s swinging up behind you, reaching around you to grab the reins.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Because you can feel him against you, and if you don’t hold on tight enough, you just might fall off the damn horse.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah.” you nod.

He takes you down through the gulch, takes you near Jupe’s Park and somewhere way behind the ranch. The sun is beating down on you two, but you know it isn’t the cause of what you feel.

The heat that has enveloped you is caused by Oj’s arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing every once in a while to guide Lucky. Caused by the way you can feel his chest pressed against you, firm and warm. The way merely being close to him has your head spinning.

At some point, he notices the sun starting to bother you. You feel him shift behind you and see his arm go up, and then his hat is on your head, and you’re pushing it down to make sure it doesn’t fall off.

It means nothing, you’re sure. He’s just being nice. But god, it means so much to you, though you’re sure it shouldn’t.

When you make it back to the ranch, you’re jittery and nervous, letting him help you off the horse and then backing up from him as soon as you’re off, handing him his hat from a distance. He doesn’t say anything, crediting it to being your first horse ride and the heat. He’s right, sort of. Just not right about where the heat’s coming from.

He waves you a quick goodbye in that attractive cowboy way, two fingers and all flicking off his forehead in a salute, and you turn away, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

You’ve tried to make your feelings for the quiet man go away, but he’s not made it any better.

You like Oj. There’s no denying it, no hiding it. You’ve fallen for a cowboy.

–

Some time passes between your realization and your next visit. You needed some time to think, to make sure what you feel for him isn’t just some stupid crossing of wires in your brain.

It isn’t. He’s on your mind every goddamn for the next 2 weeks.

Your visit is Holst’s doing this time. He wants you to take some more pictures of the horses. You go reluctantly, not arguing with him so he doesn’t start to pry.

When you get there, Oj seems happy to see you. You credit it to wishful thinking, or maybe he’s just happy to be here with his horses. You don’t know, and you don’t intend to think about it for long. You just flash him your camera and a wry smile and he nods, understanding what you’re here to do.

Well, what you’re here trying to do.

You’re too distracted, eyes flitting over to him with everything you do. You’ll be lucky if you get one clear picture, hands fumbling with the camera like you haven’t been taking pictures all your life.

Everytime your eyes find him, his eyes have found you as well, glances shared from under the brim of his hat. It feels like you’re both in middle school, trying to sneak little glances at your crush from across the ranch, your work going undone.

You’re trying. You really are. You try to focus on your task, to take the pictures Holst needs and leave, but you can’t settle the butterflies in your stomach, can’t get rid of that familiar heat, not with Oj’s gaze lingering over your every move.

But you’re just imagining things. You know you are. There’s no way Oj’s even giving you a second thought. He’s just watching his horses, making sure they’re in good hands.

You feel uncomfortable even being around Oj, knowing you feel the way you do for him and being sure he doesn’t feel the same. You have to go home. You have to get from around him before you do some shit you’ll regret.

You turn to leave, to sneak off before he even has the chance to realize you’re gone. You won’t come back again. You’ll think up some bullshit excuse to give Holst later.

But then Oj’s voice sounds out from across the way, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, where you going?”

Shit.

“Home. I don’t wanna bother you anymore.” you answer, turning towards him, figuring you’ll be truthful since this is the last time you plan to see him.

The look on his face is one of confusion, which matches what you feel inside. This can’t be happening right now.

“You’re not bothering me.” he says. You’re sure he’s lying, right? He’s just trying to be nice, trying not to ruin his business relationship with Holst, trying not to hurt the weird photographer who popped up at his ranch one day’s feelings.

“I think I am.” you respond, eyes looking down at the dirt. Anywhere but at Oj. “It’s obvious you like being alone.”

“I do like being alone.” he nods, walking towards you. You knew it.

You nod at his statement, gearing up to ask him why he even stopped you. You back up, ready to leave. Until he speaks again.

“Unless I find someone who’s worth sharing my space with.”

Your head shoots up, eyes meet Oj’s sincere expression of emotion.

“Am I worth sharing your space with?” you just want to hear his answer, need to hear it spoken straight from his mouth.

He’s so close now, mere inches separating you two. And the heat is there again, and the butterflies settle in your stomach, just like they have everytime you two have been this close.

“Hell yeah.”

His lips crash against yours, the brim of his hat brushing against your forehead. You both can’t be bothered to care, not when the yearning of two people too afraid to say anything has finally been sated. Not when your lips feel so good together, when he can taste you and you can taste him. Not when his hands have found your waist and are gently squeezing, and your hands have found his neck, scratching softly at the short hair there.

Not when the heat of the California sun is nothing compared to the heat shared between you two.

You both separate for air, and Oj takes that as a chance to pick his hat up. Your hand flies to your chest, feeling your heartbeat as your chest heaves. He stands back up, laughing breathlessly.

“You dropped my hat.” he jokes, dusting it off. His eyes meet yours again.

“Well, it was hindering my ability to kiss the very handsome cowboy standing right in front of me.”

“Yeah, alright.” he laughs, putting his hat on your head.

“I’d hate to ruin the moment, but I gotta go home.” you say reluctantly, blushing at Oj’s action and tucking your braids under the hat.

“Yeah.” he nods, looking in the direction of the already setting sun, hands on his hips like they always are when he’s focused. “Next time you visit, I’m taking you out.” He smiles now, pretty white teeth shining. He looks happy, you think.

“I’ll hold you to that.” you smile back. He kisses you on your forehead as a goodbye.

This time on your drive home, you don’t chase the images of the cowboy flashing through your mind away.

��

Your next visit to the ranch is by invitation. You could call it a date, you guess.

When you get there, the man that meets you is obviously so happy to see you. He greets you with a kiss, one hand on your cheek, resting tenderly. He tastes like lemonade, and his body is warm like the heat of the sun. You hate to pull away, but you just have to admire the handsome cowboy standing right there in front of you.

He has an orange hoodie on, with something like “Scorpion King” written on it. It’s late in the evening, so you can just barely make it out. It looks good on him.

“You staring?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah.” you nod with a smile. “I can’t admire the man I just kissed? Plus the hoodie looks good on you.”

He doesn’t answer, just smiles again, shaking his head at your words.

“Nice hat.” he changes the subject, motioning with a nod towards the hat on your head that looks suspiciously similar to the one he gave you last time you saw each other.

“Where we going?” you change the topic, saving yourself from your own bashfulness.

“There’s this food place like, 5 minutes from Jupe’s Claim.” He decides to leave you alone, but inside he’s feeling all sappy about you wearing it.

“Cool.” you smile.

The drive there is filled with talking, mostly on your part, and laughing on Oj’s. You both fall into this dynamic quickly. You speak, and Oj listens. You like it.

You eat in his truck because you know that Oj doesn’t wanna be in the building with that many people. He tries to protest, but you stand firm, even locking the doors when he tries to leave the vehicle.

“You know, you’re holding me hostage.” he deadpans, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, okay.” you laugh through a mouthful of fries. He can’t help but chuckle, reaching for his food.

“And in my own vehicle?” he jokes, placing more fries into his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” you acquiesce. “We’re not going in there. I like it like this, just me and you.”

His eyes meet yours, and you’re so grateful that you can say something about it this time, can act on what you’ve been feeling for the past month or so. So you kiss him, and kissing him feels just as good as the first time.

When you hook your phone up to the aux and turn some music on, he cracks a smile, which turns into a laugh when you begin to passionately sing the lyrics.

“You’re very excited about this, I see.” he remarks.

“Hell yes I am!” you scream over the track. “It’s my favorite song!”

He just nods, choosing to silently watch as you give him the show of your life, grabbing at his hoodie and sobbing exaggeratedly to get the song’s point across.

You end up back at the ranch after a while, sometime after midnight. You leave, still feeling Oj’s lips on your forehead, his form of a goodbye.

—

No way.

Absolutely no way.

You rub your eyes like on the cartoons, squinting to make sure your vision is correct.

“Oj, what the hell!” you scream up at him.

“What.” he responds, like he’s not outside your house on top of a literal horse.

“Why are you on a horse!”

“I wanna take you horse riding. This time as my girlfriend.”

As his girlfriend.

“Good lord.” you laugh as Oj hops off of Lucky so he can help you up.

“How’d you know where I live?” you ask as he boosts you onto Lucky with a grunt.

“Holst.” He answers shortly. This man is gonna drive you insane. He swings up behind you, and then you both are off, riding through the countryside.

He’s so warm, and you are too, just like that third time y’all met. This time, you can express your thoughts to him.

“You know, last time we did this, it made my feelings worse.”

“Is it doing it again?” he asks, not questioning what else you meant.

“Yeah. Hell yeah.” you nod, and you feel him smile against your neck as he places a kiss there. His hand ghosts up your side, the other staying steady on the reins, and he places his hat on your head, just like the other time.

You smile to yourself, relishing in having the affection of the cowboy you could’ve sworn didn’t care for anything other than his horses.

When he drops you off at your house, you kiss him goodbye this time. He leans down over the horse to accept your kiss with smiling lips, and then he’s nodding like the stereotypical cowboy and riding off to his house.

Who would have known Otis Haywood Junior could be such a sweetheart?

—

Oj’s vinyl collection is insane. Currently playing is “Fisherman” by the Congos, the same song that was playing the day you came over for a horse ride.

Oj comes into the living room, two glasses of lemonade in both of his hands.

“I like this song.” you say.

“That’s good. It’s one of my favorites.” he responds, handing you a glass and taking a seat beside you on the couch.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re this good at making lemonade?” you question dramatically, going back in for another sip.

“I live on a hot ass ranch and I’m outside most of the day. I thought that would be obvious.” He’s a sarcastic little thing, all snarky and cocky under that stoic exterior. You feel so grateful to be able to see this side of him, the side that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

He finishes up the lemonade in his cup, setting it on the table beside the couch and hopping up to change the vinyl.

“What you turning on?” you ask, swirling your remaining drink around in your glass.

“It’s a lil vinyl I made for us.” He pulls the record out, replacing the one on the player with it.

“You.. you made a vinyl for us?” you ask incredulously, in fucking shock.

“Yeah.” he nods, placing the needle on the record. You recognize the song as one of the ones that you played in the truck on your first date. The one you told him was your favorite.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” You go silent at that, enjoying the song in a different context now.

He goes to the kitchen to wash and put up the glasses, leaving you in the living room, smiling when he hears you singing along to the record. When he comes back, another song is starting.

“All you got to do is walk away and pass me by, don’t acknowledge my smile when I try to say hello to you, yeah”

Michael Jackson croons off the player, singing lyrics that song very similar to you and Oj’s meetings and now relationship.

“That sounds like us at first.” you laugh, remembering Oj’s reluctance to even allow you on his ranch when you two first met.

“Does it?” he questions with a tilt of his head, fully aware that it sounds just like him.

“It does.”

“I just want to touch and kiss, and I wish that I could be with you tonight, cause you give me butterflies”

“You definitely give me butterflies.” you admit.

He’s standing cross-armed now, leaning against the table that the player sits on.

“Come ‘ere.” he beckons with a smile at your confession and a jerk of his head, outstretching his hand to you.

You stand up, entangling your hands and fingers with his. His other hand meets your hip as he starts to sway back and forth, and you fall in line with his dance.

“Would never have pegged you for the slow dancing type, but it works, to be honest.” you smile, eyes fixed on his. He smiles back, shrugging and kissing you on your forehead.

“If you would take my hand, baby I would show you, guide you to the light, babe”

Time seems to slow, the world outside falling away, leaving just you and Oj here together, dancing to music off a vinyl player on his ranch, your hands connected, bodies moving in sync. It feels kinda overwhelming, falling so fast for a man you were sure didn’t want anything to do with you.

Your eyes meet again, and so many things are said with just a glance. You have to talk, have to do something to deal with what you’re feeling. He looks too enamored with you, and you’re in too deep to not express it.

“Oj, I-” but he cuts you off with a kiss, knowing what you want to say.

“Don’t talk.” he shakes his head, separating for just a second. “Just do.” he nods, and then he moves back in. He’s sweet, a mix of lemonade and something you can only describe as him. His other hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face, and you almost melt at his tenderness when you feel his thumb start to rub softly. Your hands find his waist, tangling in the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to keep you in this plane of existence. It doesn’t quite work, though, because merely existing with this man sends you high enough to make sure you’ll never come down.

“Cause you give me butterflies inside”

When you both pull away, it’s with closed eyes and heaving chests. It takes you a second to come back down, to ground yourself back on earth. Oj’s hands have found your waist now, and yours are folded in front of you, too scared to touch him for fear of what will happen next.

He’s starstruck, but sure about what he wants. His hands find yours as your eyes open to find him gazing at you with adoration and sureness, and he places them on the waistband of his jeans, smiling against your lips when you hook your fingers in the loops and pull him ever closer, sighing against his lips when his warmth overtakes you.

Then he kisses you again, hands moving down to where yours are, ghosting under your shirt and resting on the skin above the waistband of your shorts. The kiss is deep, and before you know it your tongue slips into his mouth and his is in yours, and tongue-kissing would be gross with anyone else but with Oj it feels right. Everything feels right with him, and you swear you can feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your thigh.

You can’t blame him though, because the heat he’s made fall over you has spread, has entrapped you and found its way between your legs.

And, maybe fueled by arousal, or Oj’s urging for you to just feel and do, you unbutton his jeans. You don’t know what to do next, don’t know anything about how he likes it or how he wants it, but you don’t give yourself time to doubt. You hook your fingers in his belt loops again and pull him towards the couch, and you fall back, letting him take his place hovering over you.

He leans down to kiss you again, like he’s addicted to the feeling of your lips against his, your taste mixing with him. And he is, god he is. He can’t separate, can’t bring himself to just stop kissing you, so he doesn’t. You separate just for a second, just long enough to push his jeans down so he can take the hint, and he steps out of them, leaning right back down to kiss you again.

His kisses flow from your lips down to your neck, and your hands find purchase in his short curls, nails scraping at his scalp, and the appreciative groan he gives you send chills racking through you. He kisses and licks, sucks and bites until he finds the spot that makes you squirm and whine just a little louder than the rest. You feel him smile against your skin, then, and you can’t stifle a smile either.

“You found it.” you say quietly, like talking too loud will wake you out of a dream, and you’ll wake up in your bed and not under Oj on his couch, with music playing off his vinyl record player.

“Mhm.” he hums against your neck before he goes to work on that spot, focusing his kisses and licks on that sensitive patch of skin. His hands drift down your body, nimble fingers unbuttoning your shorts with one hand. You lean into his touch, nodding when his eyes find yours, and he asks “Is this okay?”

Your brain blanks at the feeling of his hand so close to the heat that he’s created inside you. And then his hand slides into your shorts, slipping into your underwear to meet the mess he’s made of you.

“This all for me?” he asks with a smile, and you, with a heaving chest and a fluttery stomach, nod again, head falling back onto the couch. His other hand eases the shorts down your legs, giving himself more room to work with. On his way back, he kisses down your leg, drawing a small laugh from you, so happy to be seeing this loving side of him, and he smiles at you.

Then he’s focused again, fingers moving against you, experimenting with different angles and movements and motions, still kissing and nuzzling at your neck while you whine and squirm. He’s determined, wants to find that one thing that makes you tick.

And then he finds it.

“Fuck, that’s it.” you moan, chest arching into him, feeling him press against you, firm and warm, as his fingers find your clit.

“That’s it?” he asks, mirroring you as you nod before he even gets the question out. It’s arousing, for some reason, and he swears he can feel the blood rush to your clit. He rubs soft circles over it, watching your face, making it his one and only purpose at this moment to learn how you like, how you want it and what drives you crazy. And when he rubs a certain way, flicks his fingers just right, he can’t help but smile again at the unadulterated moan that rips from deep in your chest.

“That’s it.” he speaks against that sensitive spot he’s found on your neck, and it drives you wild.

“Shit.” is all you can manage, back falling down from its arch, legs closing around his hand.

Oj takes it all in, your whines, your groans, the way you squirm and shake and jerk against him. It feels so good, Oj on top of you, his hands on your body, one between your legs and the other stroking your hair, soothing you as you get lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you.

“Feels so good.” you whine, one hand curled in his hair, the other curled in the fabric of his shirt that you wish was off right now. “Off.” you manage to say, and he hates to pull his hand away, but he gives you what you want, pulls his shirt off as fast as he can, returning his hand to where you both want it.

“You dripping, baby.” he hums, and you shiver at the pet name that slips off his lips so easily.

You bring him down into yet another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he finds his rhythm again, working you up into ecstasy like you’ve never felt before.

“You- fuck, you make me feel so good.” you confess. “You’re making me feel so good.”

That makes him press harder, makes his movements against your clit speed up, makes him grow harder and heavier against your thigh. He needed that, needed to know that what he’s doing is still something you want.

“You shaking, baby. Feel good, yeah?” His accent has you hanging off his every word, his deep voice and drawl adding to the blood rushing to your clit.

“I wanna come.” you say, eyes locked on his.

“Well come, baby, you got that shit.” And you do, shaking and shivering as you soak his hand and your underwear and the couch beneath you. You find it funny how you’re coming for him on his couch, coming for a man you swore didn’t want you, laughing as you come down, small huffs with your arm thrown over your face, in awe at how fast and hard he made you come.

Then his lips are meeting yours again, and everything feels so perfect, final pieces of clothing falling onto the floor beside the couch.

You and Oj make love that night on his couch for the first time, with a vinyl he made for you two playing.

–

You wake up in his bed, slightly confused until the memories of last night come rushing back.

—

Oj bottoming out inside you, kissing you softly as his hips slot against you. His thrusts jolting you up the couch, your arms and legs wrapped around him, his soft praises of “You look so pretty, been wanting this for so long” meeting with your moans and groans of “Right there, fuck, right there, Oj.”

Your chest arching into his, breasts pressed against his chest, nipples hard and peaked and sensitive. His hand finding your chest, flicking softly, smiling once again at the shakes that rack through you. His golden chain dangling over you, glittering and hitting against your chin with every forward push of his hips into your heat.

Your hands gripping at his back, scratching and smoothing down his pretty brown skin, leaving red marks in your wake. His hisses and moans into your mouth at the feeling, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths too.

His fingers finding your clit, using the circles he learned earlier. Your legs tightening around his waist, his other hand ghosting down your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin, tight enough to leave pretty marks that you’ll admire in the California sunlight tomorrow.

Both of your moans and pants, warnings of your impending orgasms mixing together until you’re coming with each other. You soak his cock and he fills you up, giving warmth to each other like you’ve never felt before.

Oj collapsing on top of you, caging you in, you both resting in the afterglow of making love after holding back. Music sounding out, the soundtrack to you and Oj’s expression of passion.

Oj carrying you to his bed after a while, disappearing and returning with a warm, wet towel. While he was gone, you heard the music stop. You feel his hands ghost between your legs, soft and slow as he cleans you up, throwing the covers back over you.

Oj coming back after putting the towel away, settling on the other side of the bed, not knowing what to do next. You moving over to him immediately, arm thrown over his chest, and his arm coming up to embrace you.

You both drifting to sleep, laying in each other’s arms.

—

Oh. So that’s why you’re in his bed.

You throw the covers off your body, and you admire the bruises on your thighs in the California sun streaming through his windows. He’s not beside you, but you hear music spinning and smell food cooking.

You pick one of his shirts from his closet, a faded blue tee that stops right around the middle of your thigh. The marks he left yesterday are slightly covered, but enough peek out to satisfy your loving admiration of his touch left lingering on you.

When you make your way to the kitchen, you find Oj at the stove stirring a panfull of eggs. There’s two plates sitting on the counter, decked out with toast slathered in jelly, grits, and sausage. The food is paired with two glasses of cold lemonade — you can tell by the way the glasses are dripping in condensation.

He’s just finishing up, sliding eggs onto both plates. He leans into your touch when you embrace him, sliding your arms over his sides and to his front.

“G’morning.” you hum.

“G’morning, pretty girl.” is his response, voice deep with sleep, deep enough to shake you to your core. He turns around in your arms, places a finger under your chin to lift your lips to his.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

“Great. Even better since I was beside you.” you answer honestly, your smile mirroring his.

“Yeah?” he muses, before dipping down again to kiss you once more.

Kissing Oj feels like magic, feels like sparks and flames and butterflies, shooting heat through every nerve in your body. He pulls away just to sit there, to smile at you and watch you smile back, before kissing you again.

His hands ghost under his your shirt, resting on your waist. He hums at the lack of obstruction, the way what you both know is going to happen is just within his reach. You rest your hands on the sides of his face, thumb rubbing against his skin.

Things move fast this time. His hands are running down your body and over your thighs, hooking under your knees to place you on the counter, still kissing you with all he has in him.

His jeans and boxers are down as quick as quick as he can pull them, and then he’s pushing inside you again, seating himself where he belongs.

He ruts deep, hips flush against yours with your arms wrapped around him, shaking legs pulling him as close as you can. His face buried in your neck as he finds that spot on your neck, and that spot inside you again.

“That’s it, ain’t it?” he nods against your neck, smiles when he feels you nod with him, slipping into the morning bliss and the feeling of you around him, wet and warm. Your skin is heated, swapping warmth from him to you and back to him, passion and infatuation hanging in the air.

Now, you both learn that you two love it like this as well, slow and deep on the kitchen counter, sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating and bearing witness to love-making between two people learning to love each other.

And when you come, and he does too, it’s with quiet moans and groans of each other’s name, his forehead against yours, hands gripping your waist, and you, with your fingers curled in his hair, shivering at his touch.

Luckily, cold eggs don’t sound too bad.

—

You make the ranch your home in no time. You have to go home for changes of clothes that day, but you’re back before sundown, decked out with some vinyls from your house to add to the collection.

You fall into your own routine, getting up and making breakfast somedays, prepping sandwiches for lunch on the days Oj cooks breakfast. You really could just do anything for the rest of the day, but most of it is spent with Oj, learning more about the horses and helping him where you can, sappy little moments ever abundant. At night, he ends up buried inside you again, which is becoming his favorite place to be. And during the day too, if you’re being honest. You two fuck like rabbits.

It’s cozy, existing in the same space with him. He’s soft, kisses you every chance he gets, makes you food and fucks you good after. And he’s funny, his wit endearingly annoying at times, though he tries to pretend like he doesn’t know.

“Put that shit on.” Black fabric hits your face as you’re sat on the couch, and when you feel it you can tell it’s the satin of your bonnet.

“What the fuck, Oj.” You deadpan, though you know he’s right.

“You left that in bed last night. Them braids look new. Put it back on.”

“So,” you start, raising up your hands so you can count on your fingers, “and I’m just tallying you up here, you can: cook, clean, you’re funny, you fuck amazing, you care about my hair, and on top of it all, you’re a real-life fucking cowboy?”

That draws a deep laugh straight out of his chest, his chuckles reverberating through the house, and through you, it feels. You laugh with him, feeling something like home sinking down into your bones. He makes his way to the kitchen, where he was on his way to before he spotted your bonnet on the bed.

“Yeah, I guess. And you went through the day without that on your head. So put it on.”

When you fuck on the counter a little after that, your bonnet is on.

–

The birth control / no condom conversation isn’t awkward at all, actually. It happens around two weeks after that first night.

With Oj’s cum leaking down your legs in the shower, his head resting in your neck, he finally says something.

“You on birth control?” he murmurs. “I been cumming inside you this whole time.” You can’t help but chuckle, breathless, still coming down.

“Yeah.” you nod.

“Thank god.” he responds.

He cooks you dinner that night, and kisses you every time he can.

—

It was inevitable, honestly, getting Oj between your legs. He’s tasted you on his fingers too many times to not want it from the source.

A morning spent in bed evolves into kisses, though everything with Oj means kisses. You’ve learned that Oj loves to kiss.

He sucks and licks at your neck on the way down to where he wants to be, hiking his repurposed shirt up to your stomach to reveal your core, wet and waiting for him to have his fill.

You know what’s about to happen, but you still jolt in shock when he licks that first stripe up your folds. Someway and somehow, he knows where your clit is, swirling his greedy tongue around it, indulging in your arousal.

“God, of course you’re good at this.” you moan, throwing your head back onto the pillows.

“Mhm.” he chuckles with an open mouth, tongue out and focused on your already sensitive clit. He bobs his head up and down, moving from your hole to your clit, always returning to the bundle of nerves that he’s so proficiently found and laid claim to.

He spreads you out with his thumbs, licks a fat stripe up from your entrance, sucking your clit into his mouth. You’re dumb now, stupid from pleasure and mind spinning with ecstacy. Sunlight streams through the windows, lights his pretty brown skin up, gives him a golden glow. It lights you up, too, gives him a better view of what you both know belongs to him already.

And you’re so close already. Three-ish weeks at the ranch has shown you it doesn’t take him long to get you high like this.

“Oj, ‘m gonna–”

“I know. Do it. Come for me.” He’s so sure in his words that you can’t help but follow them. You come, shaking and damn near crying on his tongue for the first time, and he swears you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

He makes you come with just his tongue two more times before you both start your day. You have to lay in bed for a while before you can even think about walking anywhere on your still-shaking legs.

–

“When’d you catch feelings for me?” you ask him in bed one night while you read and he lays beside you, thinking.

“I thought you were pretty when you first came. But I really got roped in seeing you in your element, taking pictures of the horses, even if you were nervous. The day we kissed the first time.”

“Good to know.” you nod. You don’t feel the need to say anything else. Sitting in silence with Oj is something you’re growing to love.

–

You return the favor a couple days later.

He’s gentle, letting you take your time and take him into your throat at your own pace.

It’s messy. Spit dripping out of your mouth and onto the ground in the stables. Depraved, cause you couldn’t wait to get him in the house. He chuckles breathlessly at your greed, the way you basically jumped him, pushed him against the wall murmuring “God, you’re so fine” before you dropped to your knees, unbuckling his jeans with ease.

“That’s it.” he groans, hands threading into your braids.

You bob your head up and down, wrap your hand around the base of him, giving him just a little pressure, just enough to have a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You don’t pull off when he tells you he’s about to come. You don’t give a fuck, truly. You want it all. And you take it all.

You learn he’s the type to kiss you after he busts in your mouth.

–

Angel and Em come over a couple weeks after you move in. It doesn’t take them long to catch on to what you and Oj have going on.

“She’s yours?” Em motions to you with her vape as she steps into the house. Angel trails behind her, yapping on about aliens or some shit.

You see Oj nod from the corner of your eye as Angel makes you his next victim, asking “Do you believe in aliens?” like you didn’t see the picture of Jean Jacket on the news. Oj watches in quiet fascination as you fall quickly into Angel’s rant, nodding and adding your own two cents every once in a while when Angel needs a second to breathe (which, rarely happens, unsurprisingly).

The house gets loud pretty quickly, with Em quizzing you on who you are and if you’re any good for her brother in one ear and Angel going on tangent after tangent in the other. Oj’s content to just watch, to see you get loud with people who also enjoy being loud. He’s getting to know all the sides of you, learning the outgoing side he saw in the truck on your first date, learning the quiet side he sees on those music and lemonade nights, learning the soft side he sees when you two make love, learning the side of you that likes it rough and carnal, learning what makes you you.

After a while of talking and sipping lemonade with your copy of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album spinning, Oj joins Em in the kitchen.

“She reeled you in, didn’t she.” Em questions with a smile, poking fun at her brother with the smooth notes of “Human Nature” filling the house.

“Yeah, she did.” he admits with a nod and a smile. “She something special.”

“I can tell. she got you smiling and shit. You ain’t smiled this much since before.. you know. And from talking to her it seem like she’s what you need.”

“She makes me happy. For real.” is all he says, and Emerald knows what he means without him having to say anything else.

When Em and Angel leave for the night, you ask him one question, standing across from him in the kitchen, him leaning against the counter.

“I make you happy?” You ask.

“Hell yeah. You been making me happy since you came here that first day.” He hopes you believe him.

And you do. You can see a future with him. He sees one with you too.

When you both fall asleep in each other’s arms, you’re content.

–

It’s hot as fuck. Like, hot. It’s been a month or so living on the ranch, so you’re growing accustomed to the heat. But shit.

Oj’s feeling the effects of the sun too, wiping sweat off his forehead every second it seems. You take a second to lean against the stables for just a moment, just enough to catch your breath.

“You good?” he asks when he sees you stop tending to Ghost.

“Yeah.” you huff, fanning yourself. “It’s just hot as hell.”

You see him reach down to turn the hose on, and you pay him no mind. He’s just giving the horses some water.

Then you feel water hit you.

“Oj.” you laugh, wiping your face off.

“Yeah?” He feigns innocence. “I’m just tryna cool you off.” It’s sweet, really, his playfulness mixing with him caring for you, making sure you don’t pass the fuck out.

It turns into a water fight, the hose making its way from your hands to his, wetting him up too.

Eventually, the hose is dropped on the ground, spraying water up over you two while you kiss, laughing in between.

–

It’s not all love-making with Oj, though, not all sappy moments and heartfelt confessions. Oj knows how to break you just the way you like.

Over the months he’s learned you like it face down in the pillows sometimes, his hips snapping strong and determined into you, cock pressed right up against that spot. He’s learned you like when controls you, when he takes the reins.

“You can take it, beautiful. You got that shit.” You sob into the pillow, writhe and thrash in his grasp as he tightens his hand around your wrists, pushes them closer to your back where he has them pulled behind you.

“You feel me deep, don’t you? Feel me deep in this pussy, my pussy.” You couldn’t form words even if you were able to. He knows this, knows his voice, his accent, his drawl all get you that much wetter. “Its mine, hm?” he knows all of you belongs to him. All of you, down to your soul, belongs to him.

“Yours.” you choke out, tell him what he knows already. He makes you come so many times that night, you just barely pass out.

–

Things go so easy. It’s so easy to love Oj and it’s so easy for him to love you.

The first time he says it is completely on purpose, about 6 months after that first date, and 5 months after you moved in.

It’s a night that goes like many of yalls nights, sipping lemonade and spinning records. The conversation is meaningless, but meaningful because it’s with you. And then things get silent, and it gives Oj a moment to lay in what he has with you. The words make perfect sense when they roll from his lips.

“I love you.” His eyes are trained on yours.

“I love you too.” You’re sure about it. You’ve loved him for a long time.

And that’s the end of it. It isn’t a big deal, because you both knew what it was you were feeling before you even felt the urge to put words to it.

You love him. And he loves you too.

–

It’s funny how a quick visit to see some horses could evolve into this.

Moving onto the ranch, making love whenever you both please, letting Oj break you the way you love and he loves too. Kisses and I love you’s shared, horse rides and lemonade and dates in his truck, with and without music playing. Compliments on your hairstyles and reminding you to wear your bonnet, late night runs to the nearest store, dates at Jupe’s Claim. Water fights on days when it gets wayyy too hot. Nights spent listening to music and talking about the most mundane of things, eyes and lips always landing on your lover.

He eventually tells you exactly how Pops died. How that shit fucked up him up bad. But he makes sure you know he’s grateful for you, thanks whoever’s listening that you walked into his laugh with a love for something he loved too and shy ass smile.

“You make me happy in a way I aint felt in a long time.” he tells you in bed between kisses one night with you wrapped up in his arms. You’re glad you could do that for him.

“You make me feel safe. You make me feel seen.” He’s glad he could do that for you.

Funny how one meeting could spawn all this

#oj haywood smut #oj haywood x reader #oj haywood x black reader

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woso-fan13 · 1 year ago

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Fevers & Favorites

“KELLEY,” Alex’s panic shout is quickly followed by racing footsteps until said brunette appears in the nursery doorway.

“What??” she asks quickly. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

For whatever reason, the women had taken to referring to you as ‘the baby’ when you were regressed. They thought it was funny, and you were usually in too young of a headspace to realize, so it worked perfectly.

At this point, Kelley takes notice of the way you’re slumped in your Mama’s arms, your face buried into her neck. Listening closely, she can hear your congested breathing as you try to still suck on your pacifier.

“Oh, baby,” Kelley coos, her voice softening as she comes down from her panic, “I think we’ve got a little sickie on our hands.”

“We definitely do,” Alex agrees, “I can feel the fever burning through her. Can you go grab a thermometer and some medicine?”

Kelley nods, quickly walking over to run a hand across your cheek- smiling at the way your face scrunches- before leaving the room. Alex takes the opportunity to hopefully get you more comfortable. She walks over to your changing table, bouncing you lightly. She makes quick work of stripping you out of the winter pajamas that you had been in, noticing the sweat covering your skin. She quickly changes your diaper and puts you into some light cotton pajamas.

After this, she grabs a few baby wipes and attacks your face, wiping your runny nose. By this point, though, most of the snot had already been wiped on her. You stare up at your Mama through the whole process, your fever dazed eyes following her face.

Once you're dressed, she pulls you back into her arms, settling the two of you in the rocking chair. The room is quiet for a few moments, almost peaceful. Until Hurricane Mommy enters the room.

“Okay, I’ve got meds, a thermometer, a baba, and a cloth. I also called Chris and Tobs. I was just going to cancel coffee with them later, but they insisted on coming over, so they’re stopping at the store to pick up some more supplies.”

Kelley walks over, setting her goodies on the small side table and sitting on the arm of the rocking chair. It was a near perfect replica of that night just months ago, the three of you ringing in the new year. She looks at where you’re limp in your Mama’s arms, held close for both your and Alex’s comfort. Your previously clean face had already been covered in snot again, your runny nose reaching your pacifier.

“Oh, peanut, Mommy’s so sorry that you feel so yucky. I’d take it all away if I could.”

You were clearly much too small to understand what she was saying, let alone understand just how much she meant it.

When you didn’t respond, Kelley sighs slightly, settles the cool cloth on your forehead, and grabs a wipe. She quickly pulls your pacifier out before trying to wipe your face clean. Anticipating that you would fuss, she quickly replaces the nipple with her pinky. You suckle a few times hesitantly, as if considering if it were an acceptable replacement, before settling down.

Kelley takes your distraction as an opportunity to be able to thoroughly clean your face up. You had a puddle of snot that had been collecting behind the guard of your pacifier, and your moms could see how the skin there was already turning red from irritation. You whine when she wipes this area, clearly it’s already sensitive. Your moms curse internally when they realize that this may mean putting a temporary ban on your pacifier- seemingly the only thing bringing you comfort. But Mommy’s finger seems to be a somewhat suitable replacement for the moment, so there’s no need to panic yet.

Mama has been rocking you this whole time, keeping a tight hold on your warm body. She takes the opportunity of distraction when you’re fussing at Kelley to reach over to the table and grab the thermometer. She slips it under your shirt and into your armpit, laughing slightly at the way you try and wiggle away. She holds you steady though, and soon the thermometer beeps.

“Kel,” Alex says quietly, pulling the other woman's attention from where she had resorted to pulling funny faces at you to get you to smile.

Kelley looks at the numbers quickly, the frown appearing on her face identical to the one Alex was currently wearing. You didn’t do anything halfway, and clearly the same went for being sick.

“Okay, that’s okay,” Kelley says, trying to reassure both herself and Alex, “we’ll get some meds in her and keep an eye on it. We’ve got this.”

She moves to turn to grab your medicine, causing her finger to pull from your mouth. The two women hear the hitching inhale you take, clearly about to screech. Thankfully, Alex slides a finger in, allowing your sucking to continue.

Kelley draws the appropriate dosage up in the syringe, and deposits the medicine in the side of your mouth. The women watch as you recoil slightly, then as your tongue sticks out as you try and work the medicine out of your mouth. Thankfully, you end up swallowing it, saving everyone a mess.

While you’re distracted, Kelley grabs the bottle that she had heated for you. She places it in your mouth, ensuring you have a proper latch before looking at your hands. Normally, you’re reaching to hold your own bottle- fiercely independent. Now, they just stay where they are- one latched on to Mama’s shirt and one gripping onto one of Mommy’s fingers.

Patiently, your Mommy holds your bottle the entire time you drink. She’s careful to tip it back often, ensuring you can catch your breath. With the ability to breathe out of your nose almost completely gone, you’re drinking a few sips before gasping for air. It’s truly a pitiful sight.

Through your whole feeding, your Mama keeps you cradled. One of her hands is gently patting your bum, causing you to further relax into her. Your eyes were drooping as you neared the end of the bottle.

With your bottle finished, your Mama repositions you so you’re sitting upright in her lap, leaning forward onto her arm. She alternates between patting and rubbing your back, trying to work the air out of your system. You hiccup slightly and try to shimmy away, but your Mama is determined. She continues her ministrations for another minute or so until you finally burp, spitting up some milk too.

You start crying, upset by the action and the discomfort in your belly. Your Mommy quickly wipes your face before standing up and pulling you into her arms. Your heavy head rests on her shoulder, but your tears don’t last long as she paces the floor with you in her arms.

Mostly calmed, you turn and bury your face into your Mommy’s neck. Alex laughs at the face Kelley makes when she feels the snot press into her skin. Kelley, for her part, just allows you to get comfortable, ignoring her own discomfort.

There’s a knock on the doorframe before two more women come in. Christen has a pharmacy bag in her hand, and she walks over to show Alex everything that she got. Tobin walks over to where Kelley is standing in place and swaying you gently. She maneuvers herself to stand where you can see her, your little eyes peeping out.

Tobin starts pulling faces at you, trying to gain your attention. When you just stare blankly at her, she switches to what she thought was her secret weapon- the little stuffed bunny she had picked out at the store. She holds it up, letting you see it. When you still seem unamused, she crinkles the ears, fake gasping at the sound.

Still, you give no reaction.

Until Christen walks up behind Tobin and your face lights up. Tobin cheers, thinking she had finally won your affection. But then you reach out, right past Tobin and straight towards Christen. You whine and squirm, trying to help your Mommy understand that you want Aunt Chris to hold you.

Christen smugly looks at Tobin, pulling you into her arms and pressing a kiss to your hair. Your hands immediately latch on to her- one grabbing her shirt and the other tangling in a fistful of hair. She was very clearly the favorite Aunt- followed closely by Mal- and she loved it.

Christen whispers to you, meaningless things that likely made no sense. But, they served to calm and relax you, and you wouldn’t have understood anyway.

While Christen is in baby heaven- snuggling you close and smelling the sweet baby shampoo smell- Tobin talks with your moms. She reassures the two women that they are more than competent at watching you, and insists they go take a nap. Knowing that they would likely be up all night with you, they agree, insisting that Tobin wakes them if something goes wrong.

Besides, everyone knew you and Christen wouldn’t be letting go of each other for awhile, both relaxing in each other’s presence. You were completely unaware as they slipped out the door, saying a silent prayer for their teammates- their family.

#uswnt players #uswnt woso #uswnt x reader #womens soccer #uswnt imagine #reader insert #woso imagines #woso x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagine #uswntsoccer #uswnt fanfic #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso #uswnt reader

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b1asho · 16 days ago

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2nd part of your question lol @bazookaboi

Some notes, plus the bonus game (if dont know their names) of trying to guess who I'm talking about based on the description. Also hopefully my handwriting isn't too bad :

Devin used to be a lot more of a gym guy and has burned himself out on a lot of foods, and most of the time because of time constraints/depression combo he just gets takeout for him and Zoe . But when he’s the one cooking, his go-to is the classic rice and chicken, which for some reason is still easy for him to make regardless of mental state. He thinks it'd be cool if he could eat alien food because of all the fun colors

Lee’s family is like, rich-rich, and she currently lives at a pretty high end university (with neat cafeteria benefits). She often doesn’t realize that stuff like Real red meat is not a normal thing for most other people to have as a favorite.

Riley has virtually no life skills or money, but thankfully he also seems to have no taste buds or particular preferences . He’ll eat literally whatever is available, and out of curiosity/boredom likes to mix things up. Maybe one day he’ll find a favorite, but the novelty of eating things that aren’t from a cafeteria or dictated by his parents means that everything is his favorite.

Zoe gets easily fixated on foods for temporary periods (making her pretty hard to cook for, because guess who suddenly doesn’t like eggs anymore) but has a long-term love for anything fruity and brightly colored, especially mango. Thank god she can’t drink energy drinks or else she'd have even more health problems.

Rinshi has uhh several issues with food, if you couldn’t tell. They like sweet things, but to get them to admit that you’d have to get them to understand that eating an apple isn’t a moral failing.

Maro is in a bit of a similar situation, but she also has the obstacle of being an alien obligate carnivore in a country where her species is such a minority that their food production is an afterthought (and so it’s very expensive to get, especially meat). It’s a great day in Maro-land when she gets to eat something that used to run around and have real bones and organs in it.

WaraWara is also there to show that some xenos think the other’s food looks yucky eww

#tumblr-onlys have no idea who these people are sorry #i have wretched oc brainrot because i need dolls to play around with in the world i made #drawing #original species #ama #original character #oc

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limnsaber · 1 year ago

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Mandalorian Slash Fic Rec List - DinLuke Volume I: Big, Medium, Heartfelt and Solemn

Hello!! Welcome to the first volume of Mando Slash Fic Rec- Dinluke! This is a collection of Dinluke fics that have a notable wordcount and fics that have a more heartfelt/solemn tone, sorted under headings that make the most sense to me personally. For reference, 🔐 means a restricted work and 💜 means an personal favorite. Check out Mando Gen lists I, II, and III. Please enjoy and give love to our cherished fic authors who we owe so much to!! -Yours, Limn <3

Big and Long and Impressive

💜 The Wanderer and the Seer by @kevystel (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Mandalorian Politics, Original Mandalorian Characters, Mandalorian Culture, Diaspora, Teen, one of my favorites!!, 98k)

Din Djarin is temporarily relieved of a single dad's responsibilities, only to be saddled with the much greater responsibilities of Mand'alor. Temporarily. Hopefully. This is not the story of a great man becoming king; it's the story of some dude finding his place in the galaxy, freedom, and personal happiness through having some goddamn decency and good manners. Also the power of love, or whatever.

finding the lost and losing the found (series) by deniigiq (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Mandalorian Politics, Romance, Family Dynamics, Political Alliances, Teen, 35k)

“So you’re not stealing my ship?” Mando said. “What do I want with your ship?” Luke demanded. “I don’t know. I don’t usually ask,” Mando said. (Luke tries to help his student stay focused on his studies by helping his student's father. It's harder than it looks.)

A Near-Mythological Event by SybilStarnes (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Force Sensitive Din Djarin, Mand'alor Din Djarin, Living Waters of Mandalore, The Mandalorian Darksaber, Explicit, 116k)

Desperate to rejoin The Tribe, Din Djarin (with Grogu) travels to Mandalore to seek the Living Waters. Once they're in the caverns below the destroyed mine, a cave-in cuts off their exit. Grogu calls for help, and the legendary Luke Skywalker responds. Cleansed by the Living Waters, Din returns to his Tribe to reswear to the Creed. He discovers it has new members, attracted to a Child of the Watch bearing the Darksaber. Meanwhile, Luke has offered to help Din learn to use the weapon. The Mandalorian finds himself on a new path, one that draws him deeper into Mandalorian politics and closer to the Jedi. With the help of several guest stars, including one fat and sassy Force ghost, Din struggles to free Mandalore from Imperial dominance.

All the pretty places that feel like home (series) by SunshineAndaLittleFlour (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, two dangerous warriors coparenting a tiny frog, Explicit, 73k)

“Would you be more comfortable if I called you something else?” Luke asked, and it should have been teasing, but it was genuine, the soft freedom to be who he wanted in this place. And that careful gift, that offer of being who he wanted, uncontrolled and unfettered, filled Din with a lot of hope and a little bit of terror. Who was he without the creed? His people? Who was Din Djarin, standing in the halls of someone who had once been his people’s greatest enemy? Din shook his head, hearing his own breathing echo inside his helmet. “No. You can,” he faltered briefly, then took a deep breath. “You can call me by my name.”

buy a big house where we could both live by @villanellve (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slow Burn, Mature, 73k)

Din trails behind them and reminds himself this is temporary. He’ll make sure they get to the temple safe, and once he’s sure that Luke agrees to continue training Grogu, he’ll leave them. Grogu reaches up with his hand to tug at the edge of Luke’s shirt, and Din’s fingers flex at his sides. This is the way, he tells himself.

🔐 Get Back Homeward by berryfunkedup (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, POV Alternating, Jedi Tradtion & Culture, Clones, Getting Together, Teen, 42k)

Luke is at a stalemate with the New Republic in the aftermath of everything he lost in the war and his inheritance of the Jedi’s legacy. Din seeks his tribe and takes bounties, living according to the Way. And Grogu and the Jedi are not part of the Way. But he is definitely not the new Mand’alor, no matter what Mandalorian tradition about the Darksaber says. After Moff Gideon is assassinated while held in New Republic custody, Din and Luke must work together to clear the Mandalorians from blame and uncover the real culprit. Along the way they encounter terrible politicians, fights over naps, old secrets, and just maybe, find their way forward.

Medium and Impressive

parry, parry, strike by @alchemyalice (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Post-Season 2, Teen, 18k)

“Oh? What are you, their king?” the Senator says sarcastically, and then freezes at the same time Din does. “...No,” Din says. He does not sound convincing.

I have made this place around you by HeadOn_HelmetOff (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Dialogue Heavy, Early Relationship, Introspection, Teen, 25k)

“Do you know who you are, Din Djarin?” Survivor of Aq Vetina. Mandalorian. Bounty hunter. Apostate. Father. Mand’alor. “...No,” he uttered. Luke nodded sagely. “Then that’s what we’ll focus on first.”

💜 A different kind of blood by HeadOn_HelmetOff (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, The Armorer, Paz Vizsla, Good Parent Din Djarin, Good Teacher Luke Skywalker, Pre-Relationship, Mandalorian Culture, Jedi Culture & Tradition, The Mandalorian Darksaber, Teen, 25k)

A slight twist on events in Ch. 5 of The Book of Boba Fett: when Grogu is afflicted with visions of his father injured on Glavis, he and Luke make a decision that will greatly influence Din Djarin's journey toward redemption and reconciliation with the survivors of his covert.

where the spirit meets the bone by @ebonybow (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Developing Relationship, Intimacy, Canon Divergence, Explicit, 28k)

He dreams of his head feeling too-heavy on his shoulders, his helmet filling slowly with water. - Din navigates new feelings regarding his creed, himself, and a certain Jedi.

pluck a heartstring, duck for cover by owlerie (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Canon Divergence, Mand'alor Din Djarin, POV Alternating, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Slow Burn, Sparring as Flirting, Mature, 28k)

“He's a bit of a sex icon, your Mandalorian," says Leia over breakfast the next morning, nose buried in a sea of taxation reports. Luke promptly inhales caf three inches up his airway and doubles over hacking gracelessly. “I— wait— he's not my Mandalorian," he chokes out, to which Leia raises a single dubious, well-groomed eyebrow.

Heartfelt and Solemn

crystals in the current by @willowcrowned (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Romance, Family, Luke Skywalker's Jedi Temple, The Force, Teen, 22k)

Luke gets the message from the child in the early evening. It’s spring on Yavin, and the wind smells like the glowing purple blossoms that cluster in the corners of old rooms and spring up through the pavement. The air is heavy with twilight, the orange-violet of the sky creeping its way down, filtering through the new-leafed boughs and down to where he’s sitting under a tree. or Luke takes Grogu, but the sundering on the lightcruiser isn't an ending; it's a beginning.

Timshel by skywalkers (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Force Visions, Hurt/Comfort, Order 66 (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Teen, 5k)

“I think there’s something I can do to help him. A technique I could try.” Luke says. “I could use your help.” “What do you need?” Din says. Anything, he thinks. Anything. “I think he would be more open to the process if you do it as well.” Luke’s eyes, keen and ever-blue, that have the impossible ability to find Din’s own behind his mask every time, meet his own. He looks unsure. It’s not something Din ever thought he’d ascribe to Luke Skywalker. “But the process can be...intense. I understand if you don’t want to do it.” Din flips it over in his mind for a moment, considering. He’s not exactly sure what Luke is asking of him. But what kind of an example would he be if he asked Grogu to do something he refused to? And, looking at Luke, how could Din refuse him anything? Not that he could ever say that. Din nods. “‘Course. Show him there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

resonance by pixie_rings (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Kyber Crystals, Planet Ilum, Gen, 10k)

Rebuilding a dying Order is never easy. While exploring the ruined planet Ilum, Grogu gets a calling, and Din and Luke reflect on their son growing up - with and without them.

the unbearable loneliness of distant stars by Liathejedi (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Teen, 10k)

Din wonders when the Jedi became Skywalker, and when Skywalker became Luke, or when the lines between stranger and friend had blurred and left him standing in an unfamiliar ship, folding bare hands around a man he barely knew and feeling like his breath had been lost to the stars. A Jedi and a Mandalorian face down the ashes of the Empire and learn what it means to rebuild a broken people.

Mand'alor, The by scheidswrites (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Grogu, Bo-Katan Kryze, Gen, 3.5k)

They called him Mand’alor the Reclaimer, Mand’alor the Unifier. Some have started to call him Mand’alor the Vanished. The rumors run rampant that he is dead.

#dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #star wars #long awaited fic rec! *blows party horn* hope you guys enjoy #figured it was time to post this actually! i get so much enjoyment out of reccing these & reading #them that I hope authors honored know that. consider this another comment on ao3 full of insane paragraphs.#recs? this is my appreciation post #vols II and III forthcoming.#lim's fic recs #star wars fanfiction recommendations

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cywscross · 7 days ago

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AO3 Wrapped 2024

Just a masterpost of all the fics I've written and posted this year. I really wanted to get out one more fic before year's end but sadly I've been too busy. 19 fics is such an awkward number lol, technically I did also finish a zine fic which makes it 20, but that won't be posted until the new year. Anyway, a lot of short fics this year, a few new fandoms, and quite a few new rarepairs T_T I feel like I've written more porn this year too for some reason. But it was pretty fun overall, and hopefully I can add some more fics to those rarepairs in 2025.

here we are (at the crossroads of my sins)

Fandom: Bleach

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke, Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo

Summary: Prompt: For you I’d die / or kill myself / whichever makes you smile -- iDKHOW - From The Gallows

Tags: Post-Betrayal, Friends to Enemies, Loss of Trust, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Word Count: 374

Nothing Like a Good Cup of Tea

Fandom: The Mentalist

Rating: G

Characters/Ships: CBI Team & Patrick Jane, Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon, CBI Team

Summary: Prompt: tea makes everything better

Tags: Non-Human Patrick Jane, Magic, Team as Family

Word Count: 1,291

to know, to keep

Fandom: Fast & Furious x Harry Potter

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Deckard Shaw & Owen Shaw, Regulus Black/Owen Shaw, Deckard Shaw, Owen Shaw, Regulus Black

Summary: Prompt: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered

Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, POV Outsider, Established Relationship, Alternate Canon, Background Luke Hobbs/Deckard Shaw

Word Count: 1,133

you were burned, you were about to burn, you’re still on fire

Fandom: One Piece

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Marco & Portgas D. Ace, Marco, Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Prompt: sometimes the one you'd take a bullet for is the one with the gun

Tags: Post-Marineford Arc, Alternate Marineford Events, Portgas D. Ace Lives, Suicide Attempt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Character Study

Word Count: 786

Pillow Talk

Fandom: Fast & Furious x Harry Potter

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Regulus Black/Owen Shaw, Regulus Black, Owen Shaw

Summary: Prompt: trusting someone with the thing you never thought you'd ever tell anyone

Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Established Relationship, Alternate Canon, Sirius Black Critical, Introspection, Past Child Abuse, Scars, Fluff, Touch-Starved

Word Count: 2,970

Inextricable

Fandom: Fast & Furious x Harry Potter

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Deckard Shaw & Owen Shaw, Regulus Black/Owen Shaw, Owen Shaw, Deckard Shaw, Hattie Shaw, Regulus Black

Summary: Prompt: any siblings, inextricable

Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Established Relationship, Complicated Relationships, Siblings, Protective Siblings, it's owen's pov so, Hattie Shaw Critical, Sirius Black Critical, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Word Count: 8,752

unmade, remade

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Regulus Black, Kreacher

Summary: Prompt: Any, Any, unmade and remade

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Undead Regulus Black, Temporary Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Resurrection, Comes Back Wrong, Prologue

Word Count: 442

Chance and Choice

Fandom: Fast & Furious x Harry Potter

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Regulus Black/Owen Shaw, Deckard Shaw & Owen Shaw, Regulus Black & Deckard Shaw, Owen Shaw, Regulus Black, Deckard Shaw

Summary: By chance or by choice, they find each other right on time.

Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Murder, Time Skips, Blood and Injury, Sirius Black Critical, References to Depression, Past Child Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Memories, Protective Siblings

Word Count: 23,689

Work Up

Fandom: Fast & Furious x Harry Potter

Rating: E

Characters/Ships: Regulus Black/Owen Shaw, Regulus Black, Owen Shaw

Summary: Curiosity is as good an excuse as any to get Owen all worked up.

Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Hand Jobs, Overstimulation, Come Swallowing, Established Relationship, Fluff

Word Count: 2,050

To New Beginnings (So Long As It's With You)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski

Summary: A single deviation lands Stiles and Peter in a whole new world. They both agree that they're far better for it.

Tags: Post-Season 6A, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crossover, Original Character(s), Established Relationship, Domestic, POV Outsider, POV Multiple, Alternate Universe - Solo Leveling Fusion

Word Count: 6,522

Oathbound [WIP]

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Tracy Stewart/Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski & Kira Yukimura, Tracy Stewart & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Scott McCall's Pack Members, Kira Yukimura, Tracy Stewart

Summary: Stiles leaves when it becomes clear he’ll never really be trusted again, when he can admit to himself that maybe he was never even welcomed to begin with. It’s a more freeing acceptance than he’d once thought it would be. Four years down the road and three years into a war that spans the globe, the supernatural has been exposed, the Beast of Gévaudan and its servants roam free, and Beacon Hills is an active warzone. In a fit of desperation, Kira attempts the same summoning ritual her mother had performed almost a century prior and what comes through is… not something any of them expects.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creature Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Bad Friend Scott McCall, Bad Pack Alpha Scott McCall, Slow Burn, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Future Fic, Past Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Post-Magic Reveal, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Dystopia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst

Word Count: 17,709

Covet

Fandom: Fast & Furious x Harry Potter

Rating: E

Characters/Ships: Regulus Black/Owen Shaw, Owen Shaw, Regulus Black

Summary: Owen's never held back from leaving visible evidence of his avarice.

Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Stubble Burn, Biting, Bruises, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fisting, Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Pillow Talk, Touch-Starved, Aftercare, Trust, Fluff

Word Count: 7.034

Shelter

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Rating: E

Characters/Ships: Leona Kingscholar/Silver, Leona Kingscholar, Silver, Lilia Vanrouge

Summary: They're an unlikely pair, their starting point a whim, an accident, a kindness without thought. But sometimes, that's all it really takes.

Tags: Post-Diasomnia Arc, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Porn with Feelings, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Non-Linear Narrative

Word Count: 10,350

Get Some Therapy, Fool (aka Life is Rough When Leona Kingscholar is More Emotionally Competent Than You)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Rating: E

Characters/Ships: Leona Kingscholar/Silver, Silver & Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Leona Kingscholar, Lilia Vanrouge

Summary: They’ve been together for a while now but have never told anyone. Silver promptly throws that out the window approximately five seconds after Leona walks into the room, right in front of what seems like all seven dorms. To be fair, it's been a pretty terrible few days.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Introspection, Established Relationship, Dissociation, Anxiety Attacks, Separation Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Shower Sex, Conversations

Word Count: 24,895

Gravitational Pull

Fandom: Reverse: 1999

Rating: G

Characters/Ships: Kaalaa Baunaa/Shamane, Kaalaa Baunaa, Shamane

Summary: There is no obstacle quite as inconvenient as the dead, as a ghost, as a memory... Companion Piece in Shamane's POV (read this second)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, Past Character Death, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love

Word Count: 1,000

Where the River Leads

Fandom: Reverse: 1999

Rating: G

Characters/Ships: Kaalaa Baunaa/Shamane, Shamane, Kaalaa Baunaa,

Summary: ...except perhaps oneself. Companion Piece in Kaalaa's POV (read this first)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, Past Character Death, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love

Word Count: 1,000

Not Today

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Leona Kingscholar/Silver, Leona Kingscholar, Silver

Summary: Today is a good day to die.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Pre-Slash, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Word Count: 1,000

Take What's Broken (Make It Whole) [WIP]

Fandom: Bleach

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Kyouraku Shunsui/Coyote Starrk, Coyote Starrk, Kyouraku Shunsui, Katen Kyoukotsu, Hirako Shinji

Summary: Occasionally, Shinigami are like this. Occasionally, they meet a soul that so resounds with their own that it only takes an instant to recognize them, even if only intuitively, a connection long forged by the silent threads of fate.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Thousand Year Blood War Arc, Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Blood and Gore, Coyote Starrk Lives

Word Count: 6,164

i wait and ache (i think I have been healing)

Fandom: Bleach

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Kyouraku Shunsui, Coyote Starrk, Coyote Starrk, Kyouraku Shunsui

Summary: Starrk stays because he has nowhere else to go. He stays because Shunsui took the time to find him, took the time to ask. He stays because he can't bear being alone, and because Shunsui looks at him like he can't bear it either.

Tags: Post-Thousand Year Blood War Arc, Canon Divergence - Thousand Year Blood War Arc, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coyote Starrk Lives, Light Angst, Codependency, Touch-Starved, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Word Count: 6,566

#cywscross #fanfiction #ao3 wrapped #ao3 wrapped 2024

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the-maddened-hatter · 3 months ago

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Had some ideas for Upstairs Downstairs Hazbin Hotel expys. Still very much in a WIP stage, but check it out if you're interested! (also I only ended up seeing like 6-ish? episodes of it, but I did like what I saw, and I read a few Wikipedia summaries too!)

It's long and very more than likely 50/50 ooc, so there's a read more

This one covers expys of Alfred and Sarah, but hopefully other characters are to follow!

Alfred-

Potential Death name: Soleil, if renamed by the French speaking Sarah expy, with her telling him that for all the darkness there can still be light and salvation. He would likely initially be resistant to taking on a death name as he views it as lying, but she points out that their former employees forced him to take up the name that to their eyes best suited his role, and that this was closer to authenticity than that was.

Species: Sinner Demon

Gender & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Sexuality: Gay

Description A smoke demon, he becomes more corporeal the calmer he is and more smoke when more agitated. When fully (or nearly fully) corporeal he looks very similar to when he was alive, with dark wavy hair, pale gaunt features, and slightly stooped posture, though slightly hazy and immaterial, emitting a gentle glow and heat. In full smoke form he remains humanoid, but grows in height and is composed of thick roiling smoke with eyes that glow with a nauseating white heat. He cannot dissipate from this form, but he can generate more smoke that fills the surrounding area. He may not have a full demon mode, or is perhaps merely to timid to have discovered it yet.

Occupation: In life he was a footman, though thus far in hell he has not secured a lasting occupation and is currently squatting in a largely dilapidated building with his companions.

Cause of Death: Hanged for murdering an aristocrat (in self defense, as the man sadistically abused and tortured him though the judge wouldn't hear it).

Location of X: Visible in the back of his throat due to being hanged (additional, far smaller xs are sometimes visible in the smoke swirling around his body in smoke form, as he was suffering severely infected injuries prior to his execution that likely would have killed him had they not)

Powers: He has the ability to impair others' breathing due to being hanged, produces a painful aura of heat when agitated, his corporeal touch can burn (temporary) Xs onto the skin of others

Personality: Extremely anxious, paranoid, and traumatized. He was very religious throughout his life, learning to speak through scripture and religious versus (he's autistic) and is now largely unsure how to proceed. He often behaves strangely, but ultimately is very protective of his found family.

Bonus:

The traits of his Sinner Demon form come from how he was suffering a fever from infected wounds at the time of his death, feared fire, burning, and hell, and how these things were used to torture him (thus driving him to commit the murder, thereby being just as responsible for his death as the rope. Though his smoke form is a mockery of his life's fears it also serves as a promise that he can never be hurt again the same way as before. He can be injured in his corporeal form and must remain solid to heal, but he cannot take further injury once in smoke form.

Sarah

.Potential Death name ideas: Chanteuse. Mirror.

Species: Sinner Demon

Gender & pronouns: Cis Woman, She/her. OR, more interesting idea: genderfluid with changing or mirror pronouns 👀

Sexuality: Bisexual

Description: A parrot demon with small chattering mouths hidden under her feathers that grow in size and get louder in their overlapping the more she lies (they close and shrink when she tells a truth). Her plumage frequently molts and changes, mimicking multiple types of parrot coloration.

Occupation: She has taken on many many short lived jobs since arriving in hell, including singer, pickpocket, prostitute, actress, model, clerk, robber, burlesque dancer, beautician, nurse, getaway driver, and more. She burns through good will quickly, but is always ready to try something new or revisit an old endeavor.

Cause of Death: Though she always invents different falsehoods regarding it, she was stabbed to death by a rich artist she'd seduced because he (erroneously) believed she was scamming him when her criminal past and dubious romantic track record came to light.

Location of X: Over her heart

Powers: Temporary hypnosis that can be bolstered by singing (the more of the mouths she uses the more powerful the effect it is, but the greater the fallout when the effect wears off). Gliding, and a painful venom when her hidden mouths bite.

Personality: A compulsive liar, but very creative, spirited, and hates to see close friends upset. Greatly desires a fanciful romantic love, but is understandably dubious since showing genuine vulnerability lead to a terrifyingly violent and untimely death.

#also random side note:#seeing Alfred's wikipedia page has been updated to actually discuss his probable abuse and PTSD is giving me *emotions*#like I remember it just discussing his homosexuality and the fact he'd killed the baron(which was *big* in and of itself don't get me wrong #but it invokes a feeling that's really hard to articulate to see someone go back and put so much care into his interpretation I just Mrmrmr #I'm very normal about it #hazbin hotel #upstairs downstairs #crossover au #kind of?#expy characters #tv tropes #hazbin #hazbin oc #sort of anyway

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 11 months ago

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Tess' Sharpuary - 21. Mirror of Erised

Aesop stumbles upon a strange mirror, and in its reflection sees people he never even hoped he'd see again.

chapter specific tags: hurt/comfort, reflective, fluff

relationships: aesop sharp x reader, aesop sharp & aesop's family

21. Mirror of Erised (2.3k)

tw: hurt, mentions of canonical and fictional deaths, mentions of stillbirth, slight bashing of phineas nigellus black

Aesop grimaced as he saw Phineas Nigellus Black round the corner and begin heading in his direction. Great, that’s going to be a lovely conversation. If Aesop never had to see the man again, it would be too soon. One would think that since he resigned from his post as the Hogwarts Potions master years ago, he would not see the Headmaster very often at all. However, as a way to relieve the new teacher of some of the strain of brewing healing potions for the whole school, as well as secure some extra income, Aesop agreed to take on a part of it, as per his now position of a potions shop owner.

At first, he was slightly bitter about it - after all, when he was the professor, he brewed everything on his own. On the other hand, however, the school did provide a stable source of income for the shop, which was very much needed, especially in the beginning. In later years, however, it turned out that not only was delivering all the Wiggenweld, Skele-gro, Blood-replenishing potions and Burn salves beneficial for both sides but the fact that there was a delivery every second month or so meant that either Aesop or his wife were able to catch a glimpse of their school-attending children outside of the summer and Christmas holidays.

And so, Aesop dutifully helped stock the Hogwarts supply of various concoctions, deeming every time he got to see his daughter as well as his previous colleagues the best perk. However, having to face his former employer was always a bloody chore indeed. And while the pros outweighed the cons, he still found himself needing to count to ten each time the man engaged him in conversation.

However, just as the Headmaster made a beeline straight for him, the noise of a small explosion startled him. He looked into the direction of the sound, and began promptly walking towards it: “What is the meaning of this? Peeves!”

Aesop took his chance, and dove into the room nearest to him. He didn’t care if it was the loos or if a troll was kept there, anything to not have to talk to the unbearable man. Hopefully, he’ll be so preoccupied with the poltergeist, he’ll forget Aesop was there at all. The former professor actually had no idea where he entered just now…

He carefully set the crate of potions he was carrying on the ground in order to stretch his back a bit, and only then did he finally turn around from the door to see where he ended up. He was surprised to find the large chamber nearly empty, save for something large in the middle of it, a heavy tarp thrown over the mysterious object. Despite all of the years he spent in the castle as a student and then as a teacher, he knew he’d never discover all of Hogwarts’ mysteries. Was this room, the door to it itself, always here? Aesop couldn’t really remember. There was no way this was the Room of Requirement, he was many corridors and staircases away from it, and besides even if it was, and it formed itself to hold a temporary shelter from snobbish idiots for him, why would the tall thing be there?

He carefully stepped towards it. He was no fool, though, he would not touch anything until he was certain there wasn’t some curse or hex attached to it. He cast a strong Revelio. He could sense the object contained some powerful magic, but couldn’t determine whether it was good or bad. He didn’t sense it to be outright evil and malevolent, but he still decided that lifting the tap off using his wand might be safer. And so he did.

A large mirror was revealed. It was just a mirror? Aesop scoffed.

It was not that it was an ugly mirror, but why would a single mirror be hidden away like this, in a room that’s in such plain sight, that it becomes nearly invisible? Hundreds upon hundreds of students walk around it almost every day, and yet none of them bother to look inside, most likely thinking this room is a broom cabinet, if they even notice the door at all.

Aesop watched his reflection from afar - he didn’t feel like he was being possessed, or that his soul was leaving his boy as he did, so that was good. He did, however, notice there was something of a swirl to his reflection, a sort of movement and a slight blur. He chanced stepping a bit closer, and the effects got stronger. He cast the revealing charm again, but it was the same as the previous time he tried so. The mirror wasn’t a passage, as was sometimes the case with enchanted mirrors, that was for sure.

Another step. Aesop squinted his eyes - it seemed something else was forming in the reflection alongside it. It almost looked like… a person? Or more? He turned around - he was alone in the room. Upon another step, he saw that it was definitely a group of people standing around him, their forms and faces blurry and undistinctive. Another step. Two adult-sized persons stood to Aesop’s right, and two more to his left. And then it looked like there were some smaller ones. Another step forward. With a small shock, the former professor noticed the faces growing more recognisable, and when he stepped closer once more, he could almost tell who the people were.

His curiosity and fascination prompted him to take another three steps until he was standing directly in front of the mirror. There was no doubt - the people his reflection was surrounded with were his family. Only… there were slightly… more people.

Aesop's reflection had his right arm wrapped around the waist of his wife, the younger woman smiling at him through the reflection happily, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. Chills ran through his body as he almost felt it, almost felt her head touch his shoulder. He looked to his right but there was obviously nothing. He was still on his own. He gasped when he noticed the woman standing next to his wife. Ashley… She was grinning at him like she did all those years ago. Only… only the Ashley in the reflection looked older than when the woman herself died. Her face held a few wrinkles that weren’t there before, and the small wrinkles by her eyes from laughing were much deeper now. And was that a grey strand on her golden head?

It hit Aesop then and there, that this was how Ash would’ve looked had she not died in that harbour in Scarborough… And somehow Aesop knew that was he to focus his eyes on the people standing to the left of his reflection… of course he’d see his parents, both of them. His mum looked normal like she always did, like the way he last saw her less than a week ago when he went to visit her. Except, her eyes looked softer than they were. He was no fool - he knew while his mother was always strong, she needed to become even stronger after his father, her husband, died. But in the mirror’s reflection, he never did.

His father, being a muggle, looked older than his wife, despite being the same age as her. Age suited him though, Aesop found. The elderly man still stood tall, as tall as Aesop, and his years looked good on him. He never truly realised just how much he resembled his father. He had his large nose and his brow. His father's eyes were larger and softer than his own, and he had a barely noticeable cleft in his chin which Aesop lacked, however. His father too was smiling at him, and Aesop hoped he wasn’t imagining the pride he saw in his father’s eyes… How he wished his father was proud of him, wherever he was now…

Looking lower, he couldn’t help his own proud smile. His children were standing in front of them. He only just now noticed his reflection’s free hand holding onto a smaller one - little Magdala was wearing her Slytherin uniform, and her hair was braided. By him, obviously, he saw the almost unnoticeable imperfections that were his trademark, and yet his daughters insisted on him braiding their hair for them. On her right stood Eleazar - the young boy resembled Aesop’s wife the most, with his pale skin, large eyes, and gentle features. Gentle features for a gentle boy, quiet and sweet. But Aesop knew better, he knew still waters run deep, and both Eleazar and his wife were perfect examples of the saying.

His youngest children stood in front of his wife, her free hand resting gently on her small namesake’s head, stroking it. The little girl was holding onto her twin brother’s hand, occasionally turning her head away shyly, while Theo, his youngest son, looked like was encouraging her, sometimes making a silly face to show her and make her smile.

And then there was one more person. It was a boy who looked to be a year older than Magdala, and Aesop had never seen him before… But he knew exactly who he was. Tears formed in his eyes. The lad had his eyes, like all of his children did. He had short brown hair, and a delicate face in which Aesop instantly recognised both himself and his wife, and he was donning a Hogwarts uniform students wear before they get sorted. It was his oldest child. It was his firstborn son, the one they didn’t get to know, whose cries nor laughter they never heard.

Clarence Aesop Sharp… They talked about the name often but only set it in stone long after he was so cruelly taken away from them. It broke both Aesop and his beloved, leaving them empty for a long time. Aesop often wondered what it would be like to be able to raise the boy, what he’d be like, and how he would get along with his siblings. Would his siblings be the same? Would they be the same age? Would they be there at all? While Aesop would forever mourn not being able to see his firstborn grow and thrive, he could not possibly give up either of his beautiful children for anything… He wished he could, at the very least, enter the mirror for a little bit, a few seconds, just to be able to enfold his son in an embrace, a chance he never got to have.

His palm made contact with the cool surface of the mirror buzzing with magic. He knew it wasn’t real, but for this short little moment, he liked to pretend that it was. That it truly was their family, complete like it should be, standing still to have their picture taken. But it wasn’t meant to be. His father, Ashley, Clarence… they were dead. More tears rolled down his weathered cheeks. He wished he had more time with them…

His wife’s smile in the mirror saddened for a while as if the reflection of a woman who wasn’t truly there sensed his thoughts. Her lips pressed against his cheek, right over his tear, and Aesop closed his eyes, feeling the impossible touch. He knew his wife wasn’t here. Neither were his children, nor his mother. His mother was probably in her garden right now, sipping on her tea and enjoying the fruits of her labour there. His wife was surely in the midst of preparing lunch for their family - the very thought of coming home to her no doubt delicious meal made Aesop lick his lips in anticipation. His younger children were probably playing in the garden, or maybe even outside in the village. His eldest daughter too would soon be making her way to lunch, her Transfiguration class ending soon.

And instead of finding a place between the Hospital wing and one of the entrances where his daughter was sure to pass through on her way to the Great Hall so that Aesop could see her and talk to her for at least a little while, he was standing here, looking at something that was not real, that was impossible.

He chanced one more, last look. He committed it to his memory, doing his best to remember how the ones he loved and lost would look like now. Just as he brought his hand up to wipe his tears away, he once again lowered the tarp over the mirror. He turned away, breathing deeply - he immediately wanted to look again, again, and again. Unlike his tentative steps towards the mirror, his steps away from it were quick and definite. He picked up the crate of potions, opened the door and left the room. He didn’t dare turn his head until he arrived at the Hospital wing.

And then an hour later, as he gathered his wife in his arms, he held her longer than he normally would. He only left the castle after embracing his daughter, telling her how proud he was and how much he loved her. His wife knew immediately something happened, and she inquired with her eyes.

“Our son… he would have been beautiful,” he only said, his voice quiet and weak. She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. She needn’t know just how he knew, or what exactly happened. Aesop’s eyes held peace and acceptance. So, instead, she only smiled and kissed his lips gently, fingers entangling in his hair.

“Uh… mum?” came from the threshold leading to the dining room. The couple separated to look at Eleazar, standing there awkwardly. ”You lot are hungry, hm?” his beloved said knowingly, prompting another awkward little grin from their son. “Come then, lunch it is,” she decided, her hand closing around Aesop's own and leading him towards their boy. This was the best life, Aesop decided. It wasn’t perfect, and he’d never stop mourning his lost ones… But he knew there was no without, and while they weren’t there for him to talk to and embrace, he knew they were never truly gone.

---

Thank you for reading!

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #my art #fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #drawing #digital art #artists on tumblr #illustration #sharpuary #sharpuary 2024 #hogwarts legacy fanart #aesop sharp fanart

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trans-mouse · 3 months ago

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Oops, I'm an Exalted blogger?

Does this mean I need a thematic url?

I'm not much of an artist, but I was inspired by @theuncrucified to do some more work on my weird little Exigent, the Chosen of Xaos. This is (hopefully) in keeping with the week 1 concept of "PC/NPC," since it's the character I'm currently playing in Exalted Essence!

Her name is Beloved Daughter of Luna, Bounding Freely Upon the Light of the Stars, though her friends mostly call her Luna. She works for the Bureau of Destiny in the WOEFULLY underfunded Subcommittee of Esoteric Miscellany, solving problems too obscure to categorize. Her powers (Which I've posted the first set of on my patreon, free for anyone to see: https://www.patreon.com/posts/exalted-essence-111183809 ) are heavily inspired by the Wyld, due to Xaos's overwhelming Wyld corruption.

I figured 4 new charms would count for this art challenge, and I'm eager to follow it up with some fiction about her arrival in heaven, and her hatred for overly fancy food, next week!

Fallen Out Avatar (Prerequisites: Integrity 4, Essence 3) With a momentary lapse in judgement, the Chosen of Xaos's firmly held beliefs fall, forming twisted reflections where they land. Commit 3 motes. The Chosen of Xaos casts off an intimacy or virtue, and it manifests as a twisted mirror-image familiar. A minor intimacy has stats as a tertiary familiar, while a major intimacy or minor virtue is a secondary. Her major intimacy manifests as a secondary familiar and gets +2 to its primary dice pool. Determine these dice pools based on what would help most in upholding the virtue or intimacy. When an intimacy becomes detached this way, she loses access to its normal benefits, and if a virtue is detached, she loses all benefits from its linked intimacies. The familiars look like reflected copies of the Chosen, with strange features - animal eyes, backwards hands, or antennae are common. Unlike a normal familiar, they do not share their senses with their creator. While the familiars created with this charm are never immediately hostile to the Chosen, they are single-minded in their devotion to the intimacy or virtue from which they are created. Only a fool would create a familiar from her virtue of justice to help commit a murder. A familiar is always immune to social influence or charms that would cause it to act against itself. When the motes are uncommitted, a familiar borne of the Chosen's own virtues and intimacies crumble to nothing. Those made from temporary virtues or intimacies, including those gained via Burden of Meaning, as well as ones that became hostile to the Chosen through her own misdeeds, may persist, pursuing the virtue or intimacy from which they were created. -Everything You Care About: (Upgrade, Essence 5) By detaching every virtue and intimacy at once, the Chosen instead conjures a battle group. The dice pools are determined as normal for her major virtue, and the battle group has size 1, veteran drill, and up to two additional relevant outnumber qualities. This battle group is unstable, and infighting is sure to set in, so the charm cannot be maintained for more than a single scene. When this scene ends, all the Chosen's virtues and intimacies are degraded by one stage until the end of the session.

Immolation (Prerequisites: Presence 3) Like the Lava Moths that burn the fields of the Wyld, the Chosen of Xaos can ignite passions - literally. Spend 1 mote and choose a character. When that character modifies his resolve with an intimacy, they must succeed on an athletics roll with difficulty equal to the Chosen's Presence or burst into flames. Once ignited, this fire is nonmagical, and deals damage or spreads as normal, and can be put out in any usual way.

Panoply of the Wyld (Prerequisites: Sagacity 2) A fair folk's whole self is contained within their graces, and with a gesture, the Chosen of Xaos can call them to hand The Chosen of Xaos may have in hand at any time a cup, sword, staff, ring, or heart. Aside from the heart (which is typically a still-beating heart of indeterminate origin) they are art objects of the finest quality, reflecting the Chosen's sensibilities. All of them are treated as finely made tools, conferring a 2-die bonus on appropriate non-combat rolls, such as hosting a tea ceremony, falsifying membership in an organization using a signet ring, or whatever one might use a heart for. None are of artifact quality, but should they break, they can be returned to hand with a simple gesture. (These are not actually fair folk graces. I'm not going to make rules for that. Nor should you.) -My Blade: (Upgrade, Essence 2) Choose two of the objects created by this charm when you purchase this upgrade. You may purchase evocations for them, though they are still not actually artifacts.

Mirror Passage Approach (Prerequisites: Navigation 2) A mirror falls from where the Chosen's hand once was, and she steps from a sword, its polished edge parting for her. Spend 1 mote. The Chosen may step through a mirror or other appropriately reflective surface, and out from any other within medium range that she can see. Neither surface must be large enough for her to pass through, though it must be whole and relatively undamaged. Unless she enters through an object held by (or making up) a hostile character, this can be used as part of a reflexive move action or rush. If the Chosen steps through something she is holding, it drops to the floor, potentially shattering. -Remembered Reflection: (Upgrade, Essence 3, Navigation 4) At any time, the Chosen may designate a mirror with a touch. When she uses this charm, she may always emerge from that mirror, so long is she is within the same realm of existence.

#exalted #exalted essence #exalted art challenge

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ohallthecrushes · 7 months ago

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You're a storm in a teacup and I'm starting to like the chaos.

I feel like I'm the only one who actually write for Elias. xd Wish there were fanfics about him being a main character and not just a side villain to the story.

Without further ado!

Summary: Evelyn is a young-troubled woman who’s just escaped a highly guarded psych ward (twice, but this time causing havoc on her way out)

Now she’s running through the city, hiding from police. A not-so-accidental encounter with a man named Elias Voit will change her life forever. And she’ll change his. His seemingly selfless help is laced with danger, hidden agenda, manipulation, endless tension, and…love? Slow burning inteligent-idiots-in-love trope. But mind you, just because it’s a love story, doesn’t mean it ends well.

General warnings throughout the story: Manipulation, illegal activities, murder(s), Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, explicit content, language… The whole pack. It’s Criminal minds after all.

In this episode: All work and no play make Elias a dull boy. But boredom and attraction is a dangerous mix.

For the past two days, Evelyn had been growing accustomed to the routine in the cabin. Elias needed her insights occasionally, and she had provided them the best she could. However when she wasn’t consulting with him, she spent most of her time alone in her room, lost in thought. She wasn't soaked in miserable thoughts though. With each passing hour, she began to reassess her situation. Here, she had her belongings, security, food, and a comfortable bed. And compared to the institution and the frantic days on the run, this wasn't so bad.

No, she wasn't truly free, but the deal she had made was temporary, so all she needed to do was to wait till Elias wouldn't need her help anymore, hopefully soon. And even if he decided to change the conditions of the deal, she believed that she could eventually turn the tables in her favor. She had faced worse situations and survived; this was just another challenge.

The only other thing she had to deal with was growing boredom. With nothing else to do, she rummaged through her unpacked belongings like in a treasure chest, until her fingers brushed against something she hadn't noticed before – her old iPad. Music! Her lifeline, her solace, her personal therapist! And a great killer of time.

Bless Elias, for whatever reason, he had taken it from her apartment.

Smiling, she plugged in her headphones and turned on the device picking up a song. Soon music filled hear ears and her wary head with a positive energy she needed so much. She closed her eyes, letting the music transport her to a place where worries and fears faded away. Her body feeling the rhythm, started swaying slowly until her feet led her to the middle of the room.

Meanwhile with less rhythmical tempo, Elias paced the living room, feeling boredom settled over him.

Two days. Two damn days cooped up in that room. He'd expect her defiance to be a constant off-note in the air, a challenge for him, a source of excitement. Instead, silence. She only emerged for meals, quick showers, and when he called her to use her skills. It was almost… disappointing. What was the point of having her here if she acted like she wasn't?

Normally, he'd go out, find some entertainment, another victim to play with. But with Evelyn here, he didn't want to leave her entirely alone. Not yet. Not until he found a way to ensure she wouldn't run.

Stupid. She was nothing like he'd imagine. Where was the spark, the fight in her eyes? Was she planning something? Plotting an escape in her room? Or worse, plotting against him?

He wondered if perhaps he'd made her too comfortable. Maybe she adapted a little bit too quickly. He needed to lure her out, engage her, see what was inside that pretty head of hers. With a sigh, he headed towards her room to see what was she doing.

When he slowly opened the door, he was met with an unexpected sight. Evelyn was slowly dancing to music, her eyes closed, headphones on her head, body swaying to the rhythm... She looked so different, so relaxed and at ease.

He definitely had made her feel too comfortable.

He watched her, a slow grin spread across his face when he thought of something. He approached her quietly, taking advantage of her closed eyes. She didn't see him, didn't hear him. When he was close enough, he poked her shoulder. She jumped slightly, her eyes snapping open in surprise. She glared at him, clearly unamused, as she took her headphones off.

He smirked, trying to act innocent. "Didn't mean to startle you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, not fooled. "Sure you didn't." she replied.

He looked at her for a moment before he reached for her iPad. "What song are listening to?" he asked with curiosity.

She snatched it away before he could see.

Ah, there it was. The fight he'd craved.

"Easy tiger, just wanted to know what's made you so relax." he teased.

"None of your business," she retorted.

He pushed further. "Pop ballad?" he guessed, dragging out the words in a sing-song voice. "Heavy metal anthem for the misunderstood soul?" he paused before furrowing his brows in a mocking disbelief. "Gospel choir?"

She chuckled despite herself at his ridiculous predicament. She knew he was only teasing her, not really trying to guess. With a hesitation she stepped closer to him and slipped the headphones over his head.

"Here, that's the song." she murmured.

The music filled his ears - a slow alt-rock song. He didn't know the title, but he liked the alluring melody.

my hearts been empty, my thoughts depressed what I'm needing baby is your your sweet caress your soft caress

As he looked at her still standing very close due to the short cable of her headphones, their eyes met, their bodies invaded their personal space, creating something unexpectable; a moment of intimacy that caught them both off guard.

you, the only light in this room yours, the only blood I can taste

The words and the music set the atmosphere very quickly. For a moment, he didn't pull away, didn't break the eye contact, watching her reaction. His eyes lowered to her lips and her cheeks flushed a light pink as she guessed his thoughts. She quickly took a step back.

Self-concious, she thought to herself What the hell was that? Their situation was already messed up enough. This, this unwelcome attraction, was the last complication she needed.

She decided to break the tension and snatched the headphones back, her eyes avoiding his intense stare. "Well? uhm... Did you like it? The song I mean."

He blinked, the intensity in his gaze dimming slightly.

"The song... was nice, very mood setting." he admitted, his voice low.

The truth was, the unexpected intimacy had surprised him as well. He'd been trying to draw her out, to make her engage with him, and for a moment, something entirely else had happened. And the strange thing was... he wanted to explore that further, even though he knew better than anyone the dangers of letting emotions get in a way, especially with someone as unpredictable as Evelyn.

But boredom and attraction was a dangerous mix.

"In other circumstances I'd ask you for a dance..." he teased her to see her cheeks getting even more red. "But we have more important things to do."

So getting back to more... professional arrangement, he asked her to come with him to the living room to help him with another task. And she thanked in her thoughts that he mentioned work. This was something she could handle better than emotions and a sudden moment of unwanted attraction.

The little tasks he'd given her were getting easier to do, though she still was figuring out how to use his network to her advantage. She knew all to well that she had to prove herself to be useful otherwise their agreement, their deal would be broken. As much as she was tempted to mess things up, to give him false opinions so to put his network in danger, she couldn't. He was not easily fooled and she didn't have all the details to know how exactly his network worked. It was a great obstacle, but maybe she could still devise something?

"Is there anything more challenging than that?" She asked as she feigned interest. "Maybe a field trip? Or something more complicated I can work on alone?"

He looked at her reading her facial expression. He wasn't surprised by her boredom, but he also knew that she wasn't invested enough to actually look for something more ambitious.

"Bored, are we?" he saw right through her ploy, but pretended like he didn't. "There's definitely more challenging work." he admitted, leaning back on the sofa. "But trust is earned, not demanded. Field trips, as you so delicately phrased it, are a privilege, not a right."

The implication was clear, she hadn't earned that level of freedom yet. She bit her inner cheek in dissatisfaction.

"But..." he continued. "earn my trust first, impress me. Show me you can handle the basics flawlessly, that your mind is as sharp as I believe it to be. Then, and only then, can we discuss expanding your… horizons."

It was a carrot dangling just out of reach. A challenge of a different sort. Just not the one she wanted. "Alright." she conceded. "Challenge accepted."

When the task was done, he put away the laptop and stretched his shoulders. He glanced towards her, expecting her usual retreat to her room. But instead, she lingered, her eyes looking at tv. She hesitated for a moment. “You mentioned there’s a PlayStation here.” she says. "Mind if I play something?"

"Sure, why not?" he replied surprised and shrugged. "Be my guest."

He walked over to tv and reached for the controller, turning the console on. From his perspective, most of the games looked like childish things. But he was curious to see what she'd choose.

She scanned the list, until her finger pointed at a title adorned with a grotesque, pixelated monster. "This one." She said grinning.

His eyebrows shot up. "Horror survival, huh?"

He clicked play and handed her the controller. He settled back on the sofa watching her navigating through the game. He could see an obvious message in her selection. She was trying to show him her ability to handle fear and pressure. It was amusing though. Horror games had nothing to do with the real horror he had witnessed, but it was still impressive how easily she maneuvered through the quests and her reaction on what was happening on the screen. The amusement in her eyes as the game threw jump scares at her was unexpected. Where others might scream, she giggled with a thrill. The occasional curse word slipped through her lips when a particularly difficult enemy appeared, but it was clear she wasn't scared, she was… entertained.

As the game progressed, he found himself watching not just the screen, but her reactions. He couldn't deny there was something captivating about seeing her navigate the dark, digital world full of monsters and gore.

The final boss was defeated after a long battle and she leaned back with a triumphant grin on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elias watching her attentively. Mission was accomplished. She'd proven her point, but she wasn't done yet. Reloading the game to the last save point, right before the epic battle, she thrust the controller into his hand. "Your turn." she declared.

He stared at the controller with a question in his eyes. Did she seriously expect him to play a childish horror game? He was a man who directed real-world horrors, not silly digital nightmares.

"Scared you can't handle it?" she teased, her grin widening.

The word "scared" wasn't something he would feel. More like nah, but he couldn't say no to a little competitiveness.

"Please..." With a sigh that was half-amused, half-exasperated, he grasped the controller and leaned forward towards the screen.

She watched him with keen interest. He lacked the... finesse, but he compensated with sheer brute force, charging at the monster mercilessly. He had a different kind of strategy, but it was working nonetheless. His brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers flying across the controller buttons. Watching him playing also gave her a chance to admire his features. His jawline, his nose, his arms, his eyes...Damn, there was something in him that made her thoughts cruise towards dangerous concepts and she couldn't figure why.

Distracted she almost missed the ending of the battle when with a one final click, the creature crumpled, dissolving into a pool of blood.

She clapped her hands slowly. "Not so bad."

"Not so bad?!" he asked feigning being offended. "I've basically smashed him without giving him a chance to react."

She chuckled. "Alright, you’ve got skills, you killed the monster...almost as fast as I did."

He looked at her, slightly smiling. Her playful teasing and a video game might not be the kind of entertainment he had hoped for, but it was something that killed his boredom at least.

"Another round?" he asked giving the control pad back into her hand.

The next morning, Evelyn found herself alone in the kitchen. As she munched on a piece of toast, a movement on the floor caught her eye. When she looked down she saw a small black spider, no bigger than a pea.

"Well, hello there." she murmured, crouching down. She cupped her hand, gently coaxing the spider onto her palm. "Lost your way, little guy? Stuck inside this big cabin, just like me?"

Passing by, Elias heard her voice and curiously stepped into the kitchen to see who she was talking to. He leaned against the doorway. Evelyn, oblivious to his presence, continued her one-sided chat.

"Looks like we both need a little fresh air, wouldn't you agree?" she said, her voice gentle.

There was a moment of silence, then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. Talking to a spider? Somewhat charming in its own way.

She jumped, startled, the spider nearly tumbling from her hand. She turned to Elias.

"He seems a little lost..." she said glancing at the spider. "Do you mind if I let him out?"

"Front door's locked, of course." he said, his voice dry. "But if you're truly intent on releasing your eight-legged friend…" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key.

Her eyes lit up. "Thank you." she exclaimed. "I wouldn't want to keep him prisoner, you know."

Her obvious suggestion made him roll his eyes. Kept thinking she was a prisoner of his? Even after the last night of gaming? He sighed, leaving it without a comment.

He walked to the front door. He unlocked it with a soft click and opened it wide, letting in the fresh morning air. He watched as she stepped outside, carefully lowering her hand to the ground. The spider scurried off into the grass.

As she straightened up her eyes lingered on the sun-dappled expanse of trees beyond the porch. She hadn't been outside since she had gotten here. It made her feel sad.

She turned around to Elias, and almost hesitantly, the words tumbled out of her mouth. "Can we go for a walk?" She knew he wouldn't let her venture out alone, but maybe he'd go with her?

He raised an eyebrow, studying her for a long moment. He wasn't naive. He tried to deduct if there was a hidden motive behind her request for fresh air. The chance that she'd try to run away again was high, but... There was also an opportunity for her to earn his trust. And he was curious to see what she'd choose.

"Alright, but behave yourself." he finally answered. "And don't even think about trying anything… foolish."

Her heart started to beat a little faster. "I promise." she said. "Just a walk. That's all."

With a slow nod, he conceded. "Alright. Let's go."

The crisp air, the scent of pine, the sunlight on her face – it was a sensory fulfillment for Evelyn. Nature, with its chaos and beauty, had always held a special place in her heart. She loved hiking, jogging in parks, walking in woods... It made her feel at peace, relaxed. But this time, this walk with Elias was laced with uncertainty and she couldn't stop feeling a nervous anticipation. She couldn't enjoy the walk that way. Not with his watchful presence like a shadow at her back. His distrust felt almost physical.

She turned her head and glanced at him, wondering. If he truly believed she was an immediate escape risk, wouldn't he have kept her locked inside? Maybe this walk was to test her trustworthiness? Or maybe, a thrill-seeker himself, he secretly counted on a little rebellion?

She stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly in surprise. Turning, she tilted her head towards him.

"A little space, Elias?" she suggested. "I did promise not to disappear into the woods, after all." She paused before she took a risk, teasing "Although, a friendly jog might be tempting. Running and jogging are two entirely different things, right?"

He narrowed his eyes trying to see if she was joking or not. Jogging could easily be a prelude to a full-on escape attempt. Surely she didn't expect him to fall for that, did she?

"Yeah, sure... try and jog to freedom, we'll see how far can you get." he mocked.

"Probably farther then the last time." she murmured more to herself than to him. It wasn't an extend attempt to tease him further, but the words escaped her mouth before she stopped herself.

"I was joking." she quickly added unsure of his reaction.

He smirked. "Fine. A little space. But remember." he continued "don't push your luck too far. The woods may be vast, but my patience isn't."

She glanced back at him, as he stepped back, giving her more space, but his gaze was locked on her every move. No threat though. No anger. Was that… a challenge in his eyes?

Taking a deep breath, she started walking away, slowly at first, pushing the boundaries of the space he'd granted. She kept him within sight however, trying to see if he reacted in any way.

He felt amused watching her hesitant retreat. The confusion in her eyes, the temptation to run and the fear that stopped her from acting on her instincts, were enterteining.

Part of him, the pragmatic part, wanted her to behave. He required her cooperation. And a runaway Evelyn was a useless Evelyn.

But another part of him wouldn't mind the chase, the thrill of the hunt. If she was to disobey, to run, he could catch her once again. And he wouldn't deny enjoying it as a distraction from the usual monotony.

Yet he saw a shift in her. A defeated sigh escaped her lips. She wasn't going to run. Self-preservation won of course. Slowly, she began to walk back towards him.

"Done testing the boundaries?" he asked. There was no accusation in his tone, just a hint of curiosity.

She looked at him. "Not exactly." she replied. "But I won't run. I'm not stupid enough to shatter whatever tiny trust you have in me, that results in giving me this... freedom."

The word trust stayed with him. He studied her for a long moment, searching for any sign of deceit. But all he saw was a woman who, despite her defiance, was making a good reasonable choice.

"But you want to run or at least try just for the thrill of it." he simply stated. "if you weren't scared for your life, you'd hare off into the woods before I could blink twice."

She shrugged. "Maybe..." she felt irritated how easily he could read her. "But it doesn't matter, cause you wouldn't let me even think about it, am I right?"

"Maybe...." he pondered. "Or maybe I would."

His words surprised her. She stopped and turned to him. "You would...let me think about it?"

He glanced at her. "Depends, are you feeling restless?"

"Should I be?" she asked suspicious as she crossed her arms.

He shrugged. "Last evening we competed over a video game. You challenged me and it was... fun." he paused thinking about his next words. "Maybe in return I can offer you a similar activity to satisfy your primal urge to run without it being a constant itch for both of us."

She slightly tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. Chaos could be an asset, if it was controlled chaos.

He couldn't deny a perverse pleasure in this constant push and pull with her, so maybe there could be a way to satisfy both their desires.

He outlined the rules of this little game he'd just created. She would have a head start, a chance to run back to the cabin. If she reached the safety of the porch before he caught her, he would grant her… a temporary reprieve. More freedom of her choosing.

But there was a catch. The run had to be to the cabin, and nowhere else. Stray from the designated path, and the game was over. He would catch her, eventually, but the consequences of breaking the rules wouldn't be pleasant.

"Think of it as running on a leash." he finished.

She furrowed her brows. She understood the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush... Yes, it would help her release the restless energy and even perhaps create a temporary satisfying illusion of running away from him. And if she won, she'd have a chance for more freedom. But she saw that this game was more of a twisted form of amusement designed solely for his entertainment, then anything of a real value for her.

"A leash?" she spat. "I'm not a dog, Elias."

He sighed. Why did she always have to niggle over everything he said? Couldn't she just accept the damn game, play by his rules for once?

"Look." he sighed, his voice laced with a hint of frustration, "call it what you want. But the offer stands. Reach the cabin first, and you get a little… freedom. More walks, less tasks, whatever. Disobey the rules, and well…" he trailed off, letting the unspoken threat get to her.

"And if you catch me before I make it?" she asked.

"There'll be no rewards for you. And as for me, well..." he moved his head slightly to sides in a playful manner. "Let's say I'll get to decide what to do with your free time for one day."

She glanced away, thinking. The bait was tempting, even if it was just that, a bait.

He waited for her answer. She'd showed him how competitive she could be, so there was a good chance that she wouldn't decline his offer.

"So..." he finally said. "are you in?"

#elias voit #criminal minds evolution #sicarius #cm evolution #fanfiction

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