#will i live long enough to see the ending of my favourite fics

[goliig68]

19 days fic rec pt.2

Making pt.2 cuz I couldn't add all of my favourite fics here( again, with no particular order )

Mark My Love by ria_green

( E | 12,525 | 9/? )

He Tian gently holds Mo Guanshan by the neck, thumb pressing into where a bond bite might one day appear.

Shivering, Mo Guanshan shoves him away. "Go do that with an omega, idiot."

Note: a funny omegaverse story. Don't let the omegaverse title put you off it's seriously very funny and cute. I love the interactions between guan shan and jian yi😂 he tian and zhen xi too! I swear they all have weirdest dynamics!

*

It will come back by mgsdays (regencyaus)

( E | 44,417 | 12/12 )

He Tian leaving on self-protection, after Jian Yi's disappearance, makes Mo scared enough to make a move. They stumble into something together just as He Tian leaves the country, and they have to figure things out long-distance while waiting for He Tian to come back.

--

Mo's known the gist of it since the dawn of his puberty. Water's wet, sky is blue, Mo's sexual desires are intertwined with his complicated feelings for He Tian. Big deal.

But the reality of it is- something else. This is something else entirely.

Did you miss me? – H

Barely noticed. - MGS

...did you? - MGS

Every minute of every day. - H

How the fuck does He Tian just say those things? Doesn't he feel embarrassed? Mo thinks he's feeling embarrassed for him, and he didn't even write it. He stares at the words until his phone light goes out, and then he turns it on again and stares some more.

Note: an amazing reunion au. I think author did a great job at handling tianshan's long-distance relationship and all of that mafia stuff. I think this fic has to be In everyone's "to read" list👌

*

nothing fucks with my baby by figglypudding

( E | 23,897 | 3/3 )

unexpectedly, and in the most unlikely of places, mo stumbles upon a reunion he'd long given up on.

but how can he heal when he's only just begun to acknowledge the hurt?

Note: another reunion au. But angstier and so much sadder😭 but it's happy ending, so all of that sadness was worth going through.

*

swimming in the blood by powerandpathos

( M | 29,455 | 1/1 )

Guan Shan’s nose wrinkles. ‘I sing like I mean it. I don’t sing it ‘cause I want everyone else to hear. That’s Jian Yi’s thing.’

’And what’s your thing?’

He Tian holds his gaze. Street lamps and car headlights are mirrored in the amber surface of Guan Shan’s eyes, and He Tian can see his own shadowed silhouette in his irises, a blocky shape of darkness with no detail. For some reason, that bothers him.

‘Still figurin’ that out,’ Guan Shan says.

Note: rock band au. Sex, drama and rock 'n roll. No drugs lol. This fic in in my top 10 favourite 19 days fics, And it is so underrated!! Go read it, it's truly wonderful!

*

nail House by powerandpathos

( M | 13,309 | 1/1 )

‘God,’ Guan Shan mutters. He pushes himself up onto his elbows. His thighs are still trembling, and he rolls his ankles. ‘You fuckin’ love control, don’t you?’

He Tian sits back on his haunches. ‘Have you seen my family?’

‘I don’t wanna talk about your family right now.’ Guan Shan huffs. ‘Bet you can’t fuckin’ stand that I have to drive you about, right?’

‘I got used to it. It’s a shame the car isn’t a manual. I’ve enjoyed seeing your hand around the gear stick.’

Note: Triad au/driver!Guan shan. One of my favourite aus! I really enjoyed reading it, so I read it 3 more time.

*

hook, line, and sinker by fayre

( Gen | 3,673 | 1/1 )

“So everything that happened,” Guan Shan says, trying and failing to keep a steady tone, “The shopping, the barbeque — everything was just because you didn’t want to go home alone? That's pretty damn convoluted if you ask me.”

He Tian huffs, amused. “Not exactly. I had nothing planned; no expectations. I just wanted to be with you.”

a post-chapter 292 drabble (the day after the BBQ/sleepover at the He family estate.)

Note: i loved all of the calm feelings I got from this fic. The descriptions of atmosphere and everything around them was so detailed that I literally could feel them too. It was very gentle and pure you know?

*

allergy season by fayre

( T | 6,506 | 1/1 )

“You know, they say that sneezing a lot means you’re on someone’s mind.”

“Yeah?” Guan Shan says a bit drily, sniffing hard. “Then what a fuckin’ shame.”

He Tian watches him. “For you?”

“For the bastard unfortunate enough to have gotten me on their mind,” Guan Shan answers, walking again. He hates how nasally and gross his voice sounds, and the back of his throat feels sore. “If someone’s thinkin’ of me this fuckin’ much, it can’t be good news for either of us. Trust me.”

“Ah,” He Tian says, and then nothing more.

a post-chapter 348 oneshot (the He Tian & dog chapter).

Note: man...i remember reading this fic hoping that one day, we get a love confession and kiss scene between he tian and guan shan (and now we fucking have it)

*

Knee high, stage fright (even if you're alright) by fayre

( Gen | 5,383 | 1/1 )

It’s no longer about what He Tian thinks; it’s about what he knows. And he knows Guan Shan — at least on a foundational level — and he knows how Guan Shan doesn’t just ask when he needs. He knows how Guan Shan doesn’t talk but doesn’t listen, either. He knows that Guan Shan doesn’t always think rationally but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think, and he knows how his body goes on autopilot before his thoughts cause him to malfunction and crash and burn.

He knows.

After all, it's the little things that add up. He Tian can only pray that they won't come crashing back down.

(or: no matter how hard he may try, guan shan can't hide all his problems. fluff ensues.)

Note: a soft and cute tianshan oneshot, with a little bit of angst but it's mostly fluff. I loved the ending, it melted my heart and brought smile to my lips🫠❤

*

singing in red by starlightstarshine

( T | 27,204 | 6/6 )

In which He Tian is the bassist for the most popular band in the world and Guan Shan is only doing modelling so that he could get enough money to pay for his next meal (based on that art by Old Xian).

Note: I love the fics where guan is head over heels for He tian haha😆

*

Tell Me On A Sunday by Llybian

( T | 1,501 | 1/1 )

He’d begun, with great difficulty, to accept all of this in his heart. But he still could do nothing. What was he supposed to do? Confess his feelings like a pathetic little schoolgirl? Not a chance.

But then again, what did he really suppose would happen if he told He Tian he “liked” him? Well, the world would end, for one. That was just a given. But beyond that, they’d probably just make out. There was really no chance of He Tian shooting him down or saying this was all just some long con.

Despite that. He just couldn’t.

Note: I think by summary everyone can get a brief foresight that what this fic is about. In my opinion, this fic is very real and in character.

*

Bites by Asfodel

( M | 24,263 | 7/? )

Turning to look at the black sky, he let his mind wander to a place he tried not to visit too often. To the last words Guan Shan heard He Tian say in that dim corridor.

« I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I’ll fix it, I’m sorry. »

Like a mantra.

or a rewrite of their reunion a few years after high school, basically disregarding the Christmas chapters. Side of ZhengYi, angsty but with a healthy dose of fluff, tags will be updated as the story goes.

Note: reunion au. It's such a beautiful but heartbreaking story. I love author's writing style, it captures feelings perfectly👌

*

A dog by Alien_Kitsune

( E | 50,000 | 10/10 )

Mo Guanshan and He Tian didn't meet in the school and each went his own way. Several years passed and Mo became a criminal. But on the verge of death destiny surprises him.

Two broken men who are still trying to find themselves in this world were always fated to find each other.

Note: mafia au. Thanks to @maruuzen for recommending me this fic!❤ I really loved the process of tianshan's relationship development. I'm sure that's how their relationship would go if they didn't meet at middle school, and/or he tian joined his family business, just like how it's stated in fic, fate brought them together. also it's angsty (of course) so be warned.

*

Dawn Rising by powerandpathos

( E | 78,968 | 13/? )

An Historical Fantasy AU—A poisoning; a death; a thief. A prince struggling to be a prince. A guard trying to stop one from getting killed. And everyone else on the sidelines. It has never been so hard to navigate the court of an empire when not everyone can survive.

Note: my favourite historical fantasy au, the plot, the drama, the characters it's just_ugh👌💞 unfortunately, this fic is probably abandoned, but don't let that stop you from reading it, even though it's unfinished, I think this fic is still amazing.

*

Cold On The Inside by incorrect19days

( E | 4,879 | 6/6 )

‘Look at me.’

He Tian instructed softly.

He took a deep shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

Note: a short and oh-so-beautiful story. It's a little bit sad but it's happy end, or hopeful ending better to say.

[qdrntln4]

LILLY.

pairing: lando x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of a deaf daughter, y/n and lando's son being a menace to their dog 😭

wc: 560

notes: im the younger sister of a girl who was born blind and mentally impaired, so i know the struggles of managing a family when people from the outside pity you for something that you can't control. i hope that anyone who's in a similar situation finds comfort in this fic.

The fans were in despair. Their favourite couple, their favourite mum and dad had just found out that their daughter — their first baby — was deaf.

Lando and Y/n weren’t worried though.

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

Lando walked into his daughter’s room, leaning against the door frame. She was playing the piano like she always does. How amazed of his daughter he was; she couldn’t hear yet she still practiced like no tomorrow.

Lando turned the lights on and off a couple of times before Lilly turned around. she smiled at her father,

“Does this sound right?” Lilly spoke. She was always a good speaker. Even after she became deaf, she relied on her vocal chords to do the work for her. Lando always knew that she would be amazing.

Lando pulled his hands out of his pockets, signing to her,

‘It sounds amazing, beautiful. I think you need to go up one note at the end, though.’

Lilly nodded, turned around and played the same tune again, adding in her father’s advice. Once she had finished, she turned around seeking her dad’s approval. Lando gave her a thumbs up before closing her door to where it previously was.

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

Out in the living room, Ash was crawling around on his play mat. He was picking up his toys, throwing them around and giggling to himself.

Y/n sat on the couch with the television on. She had a magazine in her hand and rollers in her hair. She had another month off of work so she had every right to spoil herself while she could.

Daizee — their dachshund cross jack russell (…george? 😟-) — was also watching the television. She diverted her attention to Ash every once in a while, being the big sister of the house. Their golden retriever, Charlie, was lying down with Ash and letting the baby play with his ears.

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

Lando sat down next to his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek before pulling her into his side.

“How’s Lils?” Y/n looked up from her magazine to look at her husband before placing the book down.

Lando nodded, tracing small patterns on her biceps, “She’s doing good, playing the piano last time I checked.” At that, Y/n nodded before turning her attention to the television.

Speak of the devil, Lilly emerged from her room with a skip. That’s what Y/n and Lando loved to see. Even after given the news by the doctor when she turned three, she never let her condition bring her down.

She stopped in front of her mum and dad before doing a little dance and running off to grab a snack from the kitchen. Typical Lilly.

When she returned and sat down on the long end of the couch, she looked over to her parents to see if they needed her attention. As if she knew, Y/n signed to her daughter,

‘How are you feeling today my sweet?’

Lilly nodded, smiling her famous bright smile that even the sea of papaya loved.

“Good!” She answered before turning to watch the show playing on the big screen.

Lando and Y/n shared a look. A look of knowing, of pride. That was their daughter. The fighter that they created.

…And on the floor was Ash, climbing all over Charlie. That poor dog.

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

a/n: thank you all so much for the love and support ive been recieving recently! i cant thank you all enough. here's the fic of the idea from my previous post, i hope it's up to your standards! this is also for @ladyladybuggg who wanted to read this, so i hope you enjoy my love!

[inuyashaluver]

Firstly wanted to say thank you for your fics, they NEVER disappoint 🫶

And I wanted to request something with Grace Clinton, maybe a soft/hard launch with a non-footballer gf?

girlfriend - grace clinton

grace clinton x reader

description: in which your girlfriend is tired of keeping the love of her life a secret, thus, you get a special invitation to her debut with her national team

warnings: nothing really!! not proofread because its me

a/n: STOPPP, thank you so much for the love and support you are so incredibly sweet, please enjoyyyyy, i'm rusty like don't mind me AHHAHAH, clearing out my drafts and requests as we speak!!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, grace, long story short are soulmates. you have known grace pretty much your entire life and have never felt such a huge amount of love for anyone as much as you did with her. 

grace has always been in love with you, she doesn’t remember a time where she hasn’t been. and that just sums up your entire relationship, completely and utterly in love.

—

you and grace have known each other ever since you were 7. you were both placed in the same class at school, grace known for her class clown personality while you just smiled at her antics while working on your studies.

you two gravitated towards each other quicker than ever expected, being the best of friends until you were both 17 and grace finally asked you to be her girlfriend. an absolute surprise to not only the both of you, but everyone else around you. 

while grace was playing football, you were her biggest cheerleader on the side, her ‘lucky charm’ as she loved to call you. you did absolutely everything together, the best partner for life.

in your adult lives, you moved in together, grace playing football while you were in veterinarian school. it worked so well, it was so effortless, so easy and it was absolutely the best.

—

you had the privilege of being able to travel around the uk as grace joined different clubs, and grace was so incredibly grateful for you. 

something to know about your girlfriend, she was incredibly private. grace hated the thought of you being a secret but she was so protective.

she often had nightmares of you being found by crazy friends and getting harassed, and that was why she kept you private. her work and social life completely separate.

you didn’t mind it, you and grace were secure amongst yoursleves and within your relationship to not find it offensive. you both loved each other and that was all that really mattered.

all her teammates, your friends and family knew about your relationship and knew how much you meant to each other, and that was enough for both of you.

there were subtle hints here and there, people knew grace had a partner, she just didn’t want to give anyone details. both of your instagrams had soft hints towards your relationship, but nothing too obvious or completely out there.

you would come to every match without fail, always waiting for her at the end of the match.

—

she spots you sitting in the stands, clad in her jersey with a proud smile on your face as you watched her sign things and take photos with fans. she felt herself grow shy at the pure look of admiration on your face.

when people began to leave, she smiles over at you, you smile at the girl, nodding your head flirtily as she gave you a cheeky wave with a wink.

she gestures to the tunnel, meaning to follow her to the back later on. you nod, laughing at her cheeky antics, you pucker your lips up jokingly and she rolls her finger in a circle to hint for you to hurry up so she could say hello.

you wait for her in the carpark, perched up against your shared car, she rushes out excitedly, clearly out of breath but she smiles so brightly when she sees you, her most favourite person in the entire world.

you open your arms out to her expectantly and she walks into them with a relieved breath, hugging you around the middle tightly.

“hi, baby” she whispered in your ear, her lips giving you a subtle kiss on the shell of your ear. “hi, gracie girl”, you chuckle, rubbing your hands up and down her back before you pulled apart, puckering your lips up at her teasingly. she smirks, her hand cupping the underside of your jaw to pull you into a loving kiss. 

“i missed you” she breathes out against your lips, you smile, pecking them, “i missed you too, baby, two hours is way too long” you chuckle mockingly, kissing her a little longer this time.

she smiles in the kiss, drawing you in closer with her hands on your waist, “two hours felt like two days” she mocks, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as she walked you to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for you and closing it once you were seated.

“you played so well today, gracie baby” you smile at her when she puts her seatbelt on, she grins so sheepishly, cheeks pink no matter the time or place when it came to you.

“cause you were there” she shakes her head in your face, kissing your lips tenderly before she grabbed your hand to hold as she drove.

—

when grace got transferred to tottenham, things fast tracked. 

“baby, it’s only fair” grace groans, flopped on top of you as you were under the covers in the early hours of the morning. “gracie, i love you, but please, no” you beg, speaking up from under the blanket.

she sighs, smushing her face into your stomach over the blanket, “babe!” she yells, muffled by the blankets, you rip the blankets off your face, giving her your best scowl when she looked up at you from the movement.

“please, no, it’s too early” you exclaim, grace smiles at you, clearly amused by your attempt at anger on your features. “you got to pick dinner, and the movie last night” grace reminds, “i knew you let me pick because you wanted something,” you tutt, shaking your head.

she gasps, her hand clutching her chest, “i would do no such thing!” she moves up to straddle your waist as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

“my ass” you whisper, letting your girlfriend press a sweet kiss to your lips, “please” she pouts. her hands moving the blanket off you to hold your waist, kissing you again. you hum against her, clearly her little plan had worked.

“please come to training” she whispers, her words fluttering over your lips. you roll your eyes fondly, nodding and letting your girlfriend kiss your cheeks repeatedly, pulling you up from the bed excitedly.

the girl had already picked out your clothes, that’s how confident she was that she could get you to come to training with her. her separation anxiety was real.

you laugh when you see the ‘clinton’ hoodie on the top of the pile of clothes, shaking your head but putting it on anyway.

and when you both arrived at training, and you were seen in the training video wearing that hoodie, the questions and speculation were growing tenfold. who was this girl grace brought to training?

you and grace had been chatting after all the bombarding questions reached both of your phones. and you both decided, maybe it was time to put your relationship out in the open. although you both had your worries, you just didn’t want to hide anymore. 

and so after careful deliberation, you and grace would make your relationship official in her debut match for the senior lioness team.

—

grace was so jittery in her hotel room this morning, aggie had to message you that your girlfriend was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. you call her and she picks up a couple seconds after you press the call button.

“baby” she breathes out, clutching onto the phone as she talked to you, “hi, babe, you okay?” you ask her, phone on speaker as you get ready for the game. “i’m okay, just nervous” you hum at her words, “and that’s okay, baby” you remind her and she instantly calms down.

“yeah, i know” she sighs, “i miss you, i can’t wait to see you tonight” she grins, fiddling with the ends of her shorts. you giggle into the phone, “i miss you too baby, i’m very excited to see you” you both chatter back and forth before you hung up.

“i better see clinton on your back, babe, i love you!” she calls out into the phone before she hangs up, getting rushed onto the bus. you laugh, already wearing the england jersey with your girl’s name on the back. like you were a rooke, tsk.

—

you sat with her family in the stands, understanding why grace was so jittery. you watch her train and she looks pale, there’s so much riding on this. she wants to do well, she needs to do well. she needs to impress you.

she waves at you shyly when she spots you, you smile at her brightly, holding your hands up in a heart shape to make her giggle, and it thankfully works. she mimics your gesture, making you giggle as well. you both calmed down after that.

—

the match concludes and she does extremely well, the look of pride on both of your faces was infectious. you cheer loudly when they do a lap of appreciation. and like usual, when she completes her signatures and pictures and walks over to the friends and family section. 

she smiles up at you from the bottom of the pitch, ushering with her hand to come down to where she was.

you smile at her shyly, walking around others to reach her, and when you do, you don't think you’ve ever seen her smile so brightly. “hello, beautiful” she pulls you in by your waste to hug you tenderly, kissing your cheek before she rests her head on your shoulder to feel closer to you. 

“hi, superstar” you hug her tightly, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care. she pulls back to look at you, to really look at you. she may have just debut and reached one of biggest goals of her life, but you’re really the best achievement in her life.

“you’re sure about this?” grace questions, eyes flickering between your own in concern, you smile softly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead and tucking it tenderly behind her ear.

“i’m sure, lovey” she smiles at your words, breathing out happily as she took in your appearance before she placed her hand onto your jaw.

she pulls you into a soft kiss, tame for the public but so incredibly meaningful. you hear the distant cheering of everyone, but it's drowned out with feeling grace’s lips move with yours. it lasts for a couple seconds before she pulls away, resting her forehead on yours.

both of you smile, holding each other tightly, slightly in shock that you were both now official to the public. “finally” she teases, pinching your hip, you laugh, hitting her arm softly before leaning in to peck her lips.

you both see people holding up phones, chattering and talking about the two of you but you both really didn’t care. you had each other and that is all that matters.

though, what you both didn’t expect was the overwhelming amount of support you both gained out of this. the worry was honestly for nothing.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you!! ily celin

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graceclinton_x: she's a big softy

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↳ graceclinton_x: thanks guys.

[fraugwinska]

I've seen fanfics about Alastor × deaf reader

But what about.. blind reader? Maybe they lost sight in some battle

How they would be confused meeting Alastor at first: did someone turn the radio on- oh, thats a demon talking!

And how confused would be Alastor as his feelings started to grow towards the reader: he just enjoys their company! What else can he do when they like to listen to him spilling the tea and just rambling about everything because of his soothing voice? His favourite listener

Then.. their relationships get a bit different as in another one relaxing evening together Alastor asks if they want to see him..

And on their confused silence he answers bringing their hands to his face for them to "read" his apperience..

Just thought it would be hella fun to read! Not good enough at english, sorry for mistakes

I love your writtings! 💕Stay hydrated and don't dare to overwork yourself ☝

Hiya lovely Anon! <3 I put my own little spin on your idea! I love fics like those, and this one sat in my drafts for ages - I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for this ask! <3 Warning: Contains depictions of attempted SA, please read with caution - MINORS DNI!

The bookstore was always quiet in the evenings. Well, it was quiet almost always.

Hell wasn't the most... appreciative place for tombs and books that didn't have porn or egregious murder in them, so your shop wasn't really frequented much. Occasionally, a new sinner would find their way in, not yet taken by the unpunished excessiveness Pentagram City had to offer, and would buy a book or two, never to be seen again. The rest of your clientele were loyal regulars, mostly elderly demons and imps getting books for their masters in other rings. It wasn't much, but enough for you to get by, live a simple, modest life. Your shop was mundane enough as to not attract the more dangerous ones the city had to offer, yet held the beauty that only an antique bookstore could, with a reading room like atmosphere, mismatched armchairs scattered in between the high bookshelves and an old radio on the counter playing in the background.

That didn't mean there weren't moments you'd have to get yourself out of some serious situations. On rare occasions, the patrons of your bookstore became too demanding or rough with you, thinking they could intimidate or screw you over because of your... handicap. After all, how would you see the hand reaching in the register, or the little spell book slipping into the inside pocket of a jacket. The blindness you were born with on earth hadn't left you in your death, but the enhanced sensitivity of your other senses made things easier for you. You had learned to take your losses, unwilling to let these moments ruin your confidence in your work or diminish your spirits.

You navigated through the little store with ease, putting laid-out books back into their designated places - feeling the backs of the books like it spelled their names, and motion memory guiding you through the maze of furniture and shelves - your plain, long felt skirt softly brushing this edge and that wood panel. What you wore wasn't fancy, modern or stylish attire, but it was comfortable enough. And who were you kidding? At the end of the day, nobody cared for your less-than-ordinary appearance, but yourself.

Your mind had been drifting around between random topics for a while until, on your last trip back to the front desk, your round ears picked up the bell on your door and the faint sound of staticy talking, coming from the direction of the counter. A customer, at this hour no less! But you were sure you had turned off the radio hours ago... maybe the old thing was finally breaking down, you thought with a little sadness. You hurried to it, still hung back in your thoughts and babbling as you turned the desk to shut the little device off so your customer wasn't disturbed.

"Hello, I'm terribly sorry if you're bothered by the radio, I should have turned it off. Feel free to browse through-" you paused mid-sentence as the air shifted slightly. You had turned the familiar knob but the filtered voice didn't stop talking. Your ears moved around, as if the source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying to determine its source, when the other occupant of the store laughed at the surprise written on your face.

"Apologies aren't necessary my dear, but that wasn't the little device here but me, asking for service. Although I'm quite fond of a little old fashioned tune - comes with the title of the Radio Demon, you see." He talked with amusement, or something in his tone seemed powerful and dangerous. As his words started to make sense to you, you held a sharp breath, struggling not to take a step back. Of course you've heard of Alastor, the Radio Demon, but you've never had the honor (or dread) of meeting him in person. Rumors had spread around in hell a long time before you'd even gotten here, stories of a powerful overlord who'd broadcasted the screams and torments of his victims, spreading fear to everyone, from sinner, to lesser demons, to even other overlords themselves.

"W-welcome to my store, sir! What can I help you with today?" You smiled pleasantly, hoping that showing him respect and going out of your way for a courteous interaction could possibly keep you from being torn to pieces. You heard the ruffling of fabric - a hand reaching into a pocket, wrapping it's fingers around a thick piece of paper, along a low, distorted chuckle. "A good friend of mine recommended your store to me, I am looking for a few... unusual books, hopefully to be found here."

You waited into the silence, one second, two, three. When he said nothing, only static noise slowly increasing in volume, you decided to speak again. "May you tell me the titles, sir?"

"If you'd take the list, little mouse, everything I need is on it." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it now. You didn't know when his presence had approached so close to where you stood, and couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. You sighed, pulling the darkened glasses off you wore day in, day out, revealing the white irises that gave your blindness away. After a sound like a record scratch, you managed a helpless smile. "I fear if it's not in braille, it won't do much to hand me that."

The other demon was silent again, but the crackling static had dropped, and before you had time to add something that wouldn't get you gutted, he'd barked a laugh, sounding genuinely amused and entertained.

"My, isn't that a bit cliché, my dear? A blind mouse? Any chance you have two siblings?"

That joke was new. You dared to husk out a little laugh, too, your hands gently resting on the counter top. "I hate to disappoint, but no. I even have my tail still, no farmers wife with a knife."

There was a change in his stance, his coat sweeping the air as you heard the list was laid on the wooden surface in front of you, surprisingly not crushed or crumbling under the power of his hand. Coldness swept like waves of fog over the front desk and your hands, you pulled them away with a shudder, confused, but your patron just hummed.

"There, that should've done the trick. I'd rather not want to read my little.... requests aloud, they're a rather curious bunch, I believe. Very useful, though, especially those for more creative types in cooking."

You reached for the paper and thumbed through the braille letters one after the other, feeling a long list of more... taboo tomes you were sure wouldn't have even been mentioned in any respectable catalogue. Luckily, you were a glutton for oddities and curiosities, and with a small smile of pride you found that you had every book on the list on hand. Maybe it was this pride thatgave you the confidence so that you didn't reply and instead swiftly jumped ahead, bustling through the rows and pillars of bookshelves. Every step was calculated, from the short staircase to the tiny nook where you stored spell books and tombs of dark magic, navigating past all the tables and furniture to the particular bookcase containing ritualistic cookbooks. Once you had a feeling where a book would be located, you searched the titles by stroking the backs with the pads of your fingers, tapping quickly and analyzing the material and little bumps and nicks of the spines. Once found, you traced the edges of the piece and drew up a mental image in your mind to check it wasn't bent, dirty, torn or had any parts missing. Your fingers were your eyes, and they were keen.

As you carried the rather heavy stack back, the Radio Demon hadn't moved an inch from where you'd left him, as far as you could tell. It had been hard not to acknowledge him throughout the ordeal while your brain just went on autopilot after realizing he didn't mean to kill you, at least for the moment. On one hand, that was comforting; on the other hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

"Here you go, sir. Please, feel free to check if they are up to your standards." You set the books down carefully, counting the number of thick covers in the stack to be sure and your fingers brushed sharp talons as apparently the Radio Demon reached out to inspect the books as you offered. With a sharp inhale and a heated face you quickly drew back, stammering apologies. He only chuckled faintly, the static surrounding him crackling as if it, too, was amused.

You stood silently behind the counter and listened to him flipping through the pages, turning the books around to read their contents, humming here and there. He seemed content with the lot and you were sure that once he'd paid, he would leave, hopefully sparing your meager existence and not leaving any destruction behind.

"Very well! These will do perfectly, little mouse. And, I have to say, you have a very interesting collection. The quality of your inventory exceeds what Zestial promised. You might expect a few more visits from me in the future, if you don't mind."

The last sentence wasn't a question. It was a statement, underlined with the sound of a heavy stack of bills placed on your counter. Your hands confirmed what your ears already suspected - your patron well overpaid you.

"Not at all, sir, but you gave me too much mon...."

But the air shifted again, and a chime and a thud later you knew he had already walked out, his laughter the last thing you heard before the door clicked shut.

“...ey.”

What a peculiar man, you thought, still processing the entire experience. His voice had been darling, no wonder he chose radio as his medium. You were sure his smile you've heard so many demons whisper about was wide and predatory, but he had been so polite. Even the nickname he'd given you had been charming, compared to the names and remarks you've had thrown at you by lesser demons, and you shook your head at the ridiculousness of your face flushing at the memory.

'Little mouse.'

After a long moment, you finally counted the money and put the amount he tipped you aside in your hidden safe, making a note to yourself that you would give it back to him when he'd return. If he'd return.

Weeks passed and the Radio Demon had kept his promise and visited again. And again. And again.

The first time he came back and you, already flustered, offered to give back the surplus money he'd paid you, he was baffled before he heartily laughed and ignored your attempts to return it to him, instead buying three more books and leaving you with even more undeserved cash in your hands.

Almost once a week he'd return to your store, sometimes he'd have a whole list of books he'd want to buy, and he almost never left your store with empty hands. Sometimes he'd sit down in one of the many chairs to peruse a tomb you set aside for him, predicting he'd find interest in it as you learned his tastes in literature, and he'd hum almost happily when you found a new curiosity or a grimoire that was especially hard to come by. And sometimes he just came in for a quick visit, not even intending to buy a book but just to chat a bit. With every encounter your initial apprehension shifted into appreciation, so much so that you'd grow to eagerly await his return, the sound the bell made when he enthusiastically swung the door open or the slight distortion of your radio when he changed the station to one that suited his mood better.

You were a bit enchanted with him, if you were honest. Not only had every interaction been intriguing and entertaining, he'd been one of the rare visitors who hadn't maliciously mocked or threatened you, or worse. And you found that you enjoyed the small banters you could have with him, the fact that he treated you no differently than anyone else. It was refreshing, and each of his visits put a spring in your step for days, no matter how hard you tried not to think about him.

By the time several months had passed, he became your favorite client and he seemed to have an everlasting interest in your inventory as well as yourself. You learned that he was quite a wealthy demon with a seemingly insatiable appetite for entertainment, and always with an eye for quality, which you vowed yourself to provide in return, if only to keep him coming back. You found you could spend hours with only him at the store over freshly made coffee, discussing various literary concepts and historical events he used as references, and it was a delight to laugh together about some particularly odd rituals in books like 'Old Spells to Cure Thievery' or 'Blood Rituals of the Flaying Kink'.

Sometimes, when you'd hand him a new find or a heavy tomb, his hands would lightly brush yours and his voice would drop and become a bit softer, quieter as he cooed his nickname for you - 'Little Mouse'. With your lack of vision, you didn't know how his face looked nor how his expression would've surely changed - but his voice took on a tone that would be fitting for a date, and the touches made you shiver lightly and tingle and you felt heat spread all over your chest and the pit of your stomach when he did. If your body betrayed those reactions on your face, he wouldn't tease you for them. At least, you never noticed if he did. Maybe he had the grace to simply not remark on them, you thought, for once grateful for your blindness so you wouldn't have to see your own - surely ridiculously dumbstruck - expression reflected in the windows of your storefront. But the physical contact between you became more frequent, more deliberately made, and you'd caught his own quiet sigh every now and again when he lingered for just a moment longer before the doorbell chimed and he'd leave again.

One evening, as you were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow's customers, a soft knock on the already locked door pulled you out of the haze of your radio's gentle tune. Turning around, you moved slowly towards the sound of the interruption, adjusting your dark glasses.

"My apologies, but we're closed for tonight, please come back tomorrow."

There was no reply, no sound of footsteps and your ears strained to catch a whisper of a sound, to find a new hint as to who was outside. Another knock, harder now, sounded and this time it took all your courage to approach. Your hair stood at its roots as your hands rested at the wooden door, your senses tingling that you better not open - that danger stood in front of your store.

"Please go, we'll be open again tomorrow."

Your reflexes, acting faster than your brain, made you stumble back as the glass of your front doors shattered into a million pieces. In a panic you tumbled to the floor, hands over your face as the pieces broke apart on impact. There were voices, rough and foreign sounding, that accompanied the stomping of boots. You shuffled back on the ground, trying to get out of the way before being stepped or kicked upon, reaching to the walls and bookshelves to find some stability to guide you in getting away from what was coming towards you.

"T-take what you want, please, I won't stop you. Just... just take it and leave."

Your words were shaking in fear and the little hope that a verbal warning and submission would placate the robbers. To your horror the voices - two, if your panicked mind didn't fool you - erupted into raspy laughter and you realized then that money might not be the only thing these demons were after.

"You were right, Hank. This is going to be easier than I thought, look at how helpless the bitch is."

"Told 'ya, Tommy Boy. An' the best part..." supposedly the one called Hank said deviously, and you were yanked up at your wrists and thrown over what must've been your counter, your glasses slipping and breaking at the impact and your eyes dwelling with hot tears. You recognized this voice… just a few days ago this demon had come into the shop, just as Alastor was about to leave, lingering around the shop and leaving quickly mumbling a half-asses excuse without buying anything after you asked if you could help him find something and Alastor's static crackled dangerously. The same smell of sharp sweat and wet tobacco lingered around him, making your stomach turn. "... she can't tell anyone who we are. Hoh, look, her eyes are some freaky shit, 'n you bet her tits 're freaky, too. S'not even our damn birthday but looks like we got ourselves a gift. 'Ya wanna go first?"

"You know me - Don't mind if I do."

With a heart beating out of your chest and shallow breaths, you tried to feel with your only free hand for something, anything, to defend yourself with. You had to defend yourself. Anything would be better than what horrific thing they were about to do. There was only the flat, leather bound accounting book close by, but it was better than nothing, and in a motion of impulse and fear you slashed with it into the general direction you felt the weight of Tommy settle onto the counter top above you. His complice bellowed angrily, making your ears ring, and Tommy snatched the weapon from your hand to throw it away. His breath smelled of filth and cold ash, the skin of your throat burned when he wrapped his calloused hands around it.

"We're gonna show ya your fucking place, worthless blind cum-chunk bitch, an' when we're done with ya..."

There was a sudden, instant sound of feedback, a wet splatter and a horrified scream and hasty, fleeing footsteps before a wave of relief washed over you as your neck fell free from the intruders grasp and you heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, my dear fellow, do go on. I'd love to hear the end of that sentence." A low, distorted chuckle followed. Alastor sounded different - menacing. Bone-chilling. If those words would've been directed at you, you would've been mortified. But it sounded like honey in your ears, knowing who the recipient was. "Ah, how silly of me - surely it's much harder to speak without vocal chords."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as the sounds of violence became ever more gruesome. A whipping sound, a wail and a choked gasp and two stomach-churning thuds of something hitting the floor.

"Well that's not handy at all - you can't even sign your pathetic pleas now. How unfortunate to be in such a vulnerable position, isn't it?"

A thud, then another - your stomach turned as the room got flooded with a different type of warmth. Your lungs and chest stung from the stench of iron and decay and your throat hurt as you realized one aura had vanished from the store and Tommy was most likely reduced to a fleshy pile on the ground. Suddenly you felt a sharp but warm, strangely long but familar hand cradling the back of your skull, pressing your cheek against a broad, angled shoulder, another wrapped tightly around your shoulders, resting under your ears. It was quiet, now - you could only hear your staggered breathing and Alastors static that had gone down a notch or two. You thought his breathing had become more labored, too, when he slowly, gently, let go and straightened you to bring you to a standing position, his hands shifting into their usual shape as they came to rest lightly on your upper arms.

"Are you alright, dear?" His voice was almost back to the tone you were so fond of - almost. There still was an undertone, a dangerous sharpness. Your fingertips instinctively grasped and searched until they met with the familiar texture of his clothing and you nodded.

"Y-yes... I think so, yes. What - what happened to the other one?"

There was a deep laugh, one you haven't heard yet from him. "Oh, my dear, no need to fret over that. I'll deal with that pest later. I should've dealt with him the moment he stepped into your store. An oversight I intend to shortly redeem."

It should have frightened you - should've made the situation so, so much worse, hearing that Alastor planned more torture for that vile creature, probably even an equally gruesome death like the one his friend got. But his words only calmed you. Made you feel... safer. Your fingers lingered on his suit longer than you expected, tracing the detailed seams of his lapels, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the fabric, feeling the details of the cool, metallic buttons. And he let you. He stood still, allowing your hands to see what your eyes couldn't.

"I can't decide if it's a blessing or a shame that you can't see the carnage I caused. Although I am pleased that you didn't have to look at the ugly faces of those cretins who tried to defile you." He took your hands from his coat and placed them softly on his face. "But maybe… you can try to envision what your savior looks like, hm?"

His hands left yours again, though you found the sensation and feeling of his touch remained where he placed them. Your heart fluttered as you couldn't keep yourself from running your palms and fingertips over his skin, cautiously tracing his angular jaw, making out the distinct feeling and sharp lines of a toothy grin. Then you pushed further, fingers running along a slight bow and over the indent where his brows arched, his cheekbones prominent enough you felt the warmth of blood flushing under the skin as the mental image of his face got clearer.

You were in awe that you could do this, that he encouraged it even, but he allowed you the tender moment, making a muffled humming sound and exhaling quietly under your soft, curious touch. You realized at last that his eyes were closed for you, the skin there slightly pliant and firm at the same time. With the tips of your fingers, you followed the firm, straight bridge of his nose down the length of it and he inhaled sharply when you brushed his lips. The familiar sound of static increased just enough for you to realize there had been complete silence aside from your soft and his steady breathing. He opened his eyes again, slowly taking your hands away to leave a feathery light, lingering kiss on your knuckles as he hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, let me clean up this mess, we don't want you stumble over any... unpleasant bits." You heard a snap and felt the air whirring around you, filling with a thick, fog-like sensation as you heard your floors creaking, wood mending and cracking and tiny bits of glass swirling around you, piecing itself together and returning into their frame. Not even a minute later the shop felt normal again, the unpleasant smell gone as well, and with it the overall apprehension the threat had caused.

"Thank you, Alastor. Truly, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't..." you started, pausing as his hands wandered gently around your face to put on your miraculously repaired glasses. He laughed softly, tapping a gentle, slender finger on the tip of your nose.

"Luckily we didn't find out, did we? Ah, but, unfortunately, I'd say the night has been spoiled for us, given that there's another vermin to take care of." He walked behind you, carefully setting the accounting book you had used as an attempted weapon into your hands, his taloned fingers curling gently around yours as if to make sure you had a proper hold on it.

"You lock up when I'm gone, little mouse. And who knows - Maybe we'll continue to see each other... tomorrow night."

And then you felt another gentle peck, this time on your flushed cheek, and the door opened with the bell ringing, the faint crackle of a radio fading and his heavy, signature scent of burned wood and bourbon lingering around you as you hurried to bolt the doors shut, heart racing painfully in your chest at the prospect of adding even more parts of the Radio Demon to the image in your mind.

[lichenes]

on my hands and knees begging for domestic fluff w joost. cooking together, doing livestreams, playing video games, ANYTHING plz <3

My friend read the ask and suggested the whole plot so it came out like a crack fic near the end but oh well, the sillies :D Hope you like it anon and thank you for the ask!!

CW: cursing, broken washing machines??? wc: 689

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

He walked through the door inhaling the familiar scent of your shared home. “You’re home!” You said with excitement, thrilled to see Joost. He talked to you about the latest concert, his eyes sparkling with joy when he described a huge group of people shouting the lyrics to his song alongside him. 

You were happy to finally have him back home as this was the last concert of the tour. He expressed how grateful he was for your support and couldn’t quite stop apologising for - as he called it - abandoning you for so long. You reassured him constantly hoping he would one day realise what made him happy, made you happy.

You both were too tired to do anything more than discuss things on the surface level. “You know I wouldn’t give you up for anything in the world.” He said as you both were laying in your shared bed. You nodded, constantly surprised by the level of affection he sported while extremely tired. 

You woke up well rested, finally not worrying if he was okay, he was next to you after all. “I’m doing laundry, do you need anything washed?” You said no and went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for you two. When he was done with the load he got into the kitchen and hugged you from behind inhaling your scent. 

“Missed you.” He mumbled into your neck tickling you with his breath. “Missed you too.” You were standing over the stove with a wooden spoon stirring the scrambled eggs. Joost thought proved to be a severe distraction. “I need to focus on the task at hand, Joost.” He let his gorgeous laugh out. “I knoww~ but I didn’t have much time to spend with you and I need you now.” Your face got warmer at those words. “You’ve got me all to yourself lovely.” You said this time making his fair skin turn a shade of red. 

He stopped hugging you and opted instead to set the table. It was quite small but enough for both of you to dine. He made sure to give you your favourite glass. You served the food up. He commented on how tasty it was despite it being only eggs and salt. “It’s hard to fuck up scrambled eggs.” You said with a slight jest in your voice. He laughed and continued. “But it’s not impossible!” 

You went into the living room of your apartment after he was done with washing the dishes and you were done drying them. Your day was spent laying in bed and watching some stupid series full of cheesy jokes which were just cringey enough to make both your stomachs hurt from the laughter. At some point you stood up and went into the bathroom.

Your socks were met with a wet floor which you didn’t expect. Suddenly you realised what was going on. “Joost!” You shouted, calling him over. “What’s up?” He walked right into the puddle. “The washing machine malfunctioned… grab some cloths.” He nodded and walked up to the closet and pulled out some, handing it to you with a smile on his face to cheer you up before the work you both were going to do soon. 

Unfortunately you didn’t catch the malfunction in time which meant the floor panels lifted due to the moisture they absorbed. Renovations were long overdue and you were planning on changing up the floors anyway you told yourself when you saw the panels literally de-gluing themselves from the floor. 

You decided on a herringbone style of floors this time opting to lay them yourselves, after all how hard could it be? You bought raw planks and let Joost lay his heart out. You loved seeing him work all stuck in his own world. He weatherproofed the planks after cutting them up into size appropriate pieces and made your home look brand new with the shining new floors. 

“You did a great job baby.” You said when he came over excited to show you his work. “We should monitor our washing machine better next time though, we wouldn’t want to ruin these gorgeous floors.” 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────• masterlist

[aangelinakii]

JASON TODD ABC'S

note : so sorry i've been inactive ! it was the summer hols and i was in greeecececee and i've gone back to college so i couldn't really be asked 😭

A is for... Affection ! (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

at the beginning of a relationship, i can't see jason being physically affectionate at all, like at all. he will be super hesitant to initiate anything, and if you initiate anything, he'll be too scared to fuck it up anyway. after some time, i feel he could get a bit anxious if not having some reassurance, and can become a bit clingy at times oops. i don't think he's super physically affectionate anyway, but he can be a sucker for a good cuddle, and he definitely uses his words to express his gratitude and affection, and may be an acts of service guy, too.

B is for... Best Friend ! (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

jason is the greatest best friend, and we're talking completely platonic here. he's super supportive, kind, generous. if you ask him to be somewhere, like a game meet if you're sporty or a gig if you're musical, he'll be there. probably the first one there and the last one out, too. he knows your favourite everything and your least favourite everything. but is also probably super annoying,, a dry texter and changing the meaning of your words to an innuendo just to watch you scowl.

C is for... Cuddles ! (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

after a long patrol i can see jason getting comfy in bed or under a blanket on the couch with his significant other. it's the best way to wind down, but i think he will only feel comfortable cuddling if he's already super exhausted or run down, or even just feeling a bit likeee needing some reassurance.

D is for... Domestic ! (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

i think he needs to be SUREEE with someone before he settles down. even at least 6-7 months DATING to move in (but that doesn't mean he won't act like he's living with you already, constantly sleeping round and hanging round once you're off work). and ik a lot of people think jason would think about marriage super early because he'd know super early, and get the ring super early, but personally i don't think he's risking anything.

when it comes to cooking, if you've read one of my fics (shameless promo :P) you'll know i think jason todd is a secret chef. and i think he'd be pretty clean when sharing a place with someone. alone, however ?? he'll throw his shirts around the place, and his socks, do all the stuff he'd get annoyed about a partner doing around him. but he'd be more mindful when living with someone, and he'd never let stuff hang around for too long

E is for... Ending ! (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

it would probably be because of something about boundaries. i would hope everybody reading this is totally normal about people having boundaries, but if you aren't then that would be it. tbh i think he would feel too bad about breaking up with someone, so if it was that bad, he would try EVERYTHING to get broken up with instead. because at that point he is not in it anymore he doesn't care, but it would actually be a huge relief.

F is for... Fiancé ! (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

slow burn. he needs to be sure. so so super duper sure. jason has been through a lot, i think he wouldn't want to risk anything at all. he's aware people can lie, but he's the son of gotham's best detective, and if he can wear you out long enough, your true colours will show. not saying he's an asshole, not at all, but sometimes if he's not sure, he'll be a bit cheeky at times until he knwos you're the real deal.

G is for... Gentle ! (how gentle are they?)

THE GENTLEST !!!! he's aware of his strength and would never ever even think about hurting you, so is always so conscious of how he touches you. not touch in a weird way but in a normal way 💀 feather light kisses in the morning while you sleep, his calloused fingers tracing the slope of your nose all the way over your lips and down the curve of your chin.

H is for... Hugs ! (do they like hugs? what are their hugs like?)

hugging jason todd is either like slamming into a brick wall or relaxing down on a memory foam mattress. at the beginning, because he's inexperienced, not used to it, he's just a bit stiff, nervous. but slowly he eases into it, into the comfort of being in the arms of another person and not because they're holding his dead body bye. once he's fully comfortable with physical affection, he holds on like he'll never let go, but only from time to time.

I is for... I Love You ! (how fast do they say the L word?)

standing by it, he takes longgg. he may think it sooner, but until he's sure he can properly trust you, he's keeping it in, a secret between him and his heart. he might wait to see if you say it first, because the other part of him is just scared about opening up to someone like that. if you're the same and you're also waiting, he'll wait until he's sure and take you on a really sweet date to say it. if you say it before him, however, and he's not ready, he'll let you know he appreciates it and just needs more time, but by no means doesn't feel the same way?? yk ??? and then will still plan a romantic date for him to say it. it's very momentous for him.

J is for... Jealousy ! (how jealous do they get? what do they get like when they're jealous?)

i wouldn't sayyy jealousss but more like, needs reassurance from time to time. especially more so when he's attached. when he gets like that, he'll get a bit clingy, aching for attention and assurance. on the offhand time he'll get proper jealous, it will definitely show itself as protectiveness; an arm around the shoulder or waist, eyes glancing around to glare at anyone prying, a few kisses on the side of your head.

K is for... Kisses ! (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss? where do they like to be kissed?)

jason todd's kisses are sweet and genuine and hust urrrggg gf hfjjjd kd jdisi !!!!!! he's always soft, never overstepping. i mean he can be a little ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) if you want him to be but this isn't that kinda blog so we not going into detail..... and if he's going to be light and soft with you, he expects that in return. he loves feathery kisses along his face, just showing him love and affection. he likes when you're holding hands and you kiss his knuckles. in more intimate situations (DOESNT HAVE TO BE SEXUAL) he will feel really special when being kissed on his scars. it feels weird at first, but he grows to feel comfortable in vulnerability. his favourite places to kiss, however, are probably also hands and fingers, just a little fidgety thing, and the top or sides of your head :))

L is for... Little Ones ! (how are they around children?)

just the sweetest. i think in the back of his mind he'd picture himself in a family with his significant other, fit with children and everything, but he'd know not to take it too fast. god, if you even came up to him saying you wanted kids too soon he would start sweating and shaking. but if he were to ever be blessed to be a father, he would be the best. DONT get me started on him being a girl dad because he would be the best dad that little girly could ever wish for. and if he was a boy dad, he would still be cute but i don't want to be a boy mum so i try not to think about it 💀

M is for... Mornings ! (how are mornings spent with them?)

quiet and happy and safe. in three words. in the summer he won't wear a shirt and probably has a fan on, but he's still achingly warm in your arms, and smells like the soap he showered with when he returned from patrol the night before. sometimes he wakes up if he gets too hot, so the summer can be excruciating, and he slips out of bed early to prepare breakfast for you. depending on your sleeping habits, he'll either treat you in bed, or you'll sleepily trudge over to him in the kitchen and sling your arms around his waist, and share it at the table.

N is for... Nights ! (how are nights spent with them?)

when he has patrol, nights are long and waiting, but when he returns home, albeit a little stanky 💀, it's just a relief. even if he's a little beat up, needs minor medical attention, and you're tired, you'll patch him up. because he matters and he shouldn't be getting into bed with a bullet in his shoulder. that's just. not how it works. when he finally gets a night off you are doing EVERYthing to treat him to how a normal person experiences an evening; sometimes movie nights, sometimes you cook for him, sometimes you shower with him and clean him up and pamper himmm

O is for... Open ! (when would they start revealing deeper things about themselves?)

i think for surface level stuff he's a totally open book, like he'll just say stuff. walking past a clothing store "omg one time i had a jacket like that but my brother's dog started chewing on it while i was wearing it damian SET it on him so i had to take it off and he kept eating it so i dont have it anymore lol". but when talking about how he's actually died before. that will take a LONG time. he'll need a lot of trust for you, and trust doesn't just come from anywhere, especially when it's coming from jason todd.

P is for... Patience ! (what is their temper like?)

in general HORRIBLE with you ???? you are his angel, you are his everything, you could never make him mad. perhaps you have a few quirks (i won't judge) that irk him sometimes, but he is never like MAD. maybe annoyed every so often because idk you've left your socks on the couch every night this week and they were a bit stinky, or you cooked or had takeaway and didn't clean up the kitchen after, but i don't see him getting seriously mad.

Q is for... Quizzes ! (how much would they remember?)

the important things. even if you don't deem it as important, if he does, then he remembers it. that could be something like your favourite ice cream flavour, your least favourite item on the wingstop menu (can you tell i'm hungry???) but he'll even remember the one embarrassing story you told about primary school when you were laying in bed half asleep. it was funny, of course he'll remember. but of course he'll remember actual things too, like your average clothing size so if he sees something cute he can surprise you later !!

R is for... Remember ! (what is their favourite relationship moment?)

definitely has to be the first time you gave him a gift. it was his birthdqy. he didn't even know you knew his birthday ??? well he remembers telling you but he just ddin't expect it to actually be processed and taken into consideration, let alone enough to get him a present !! you'd been dating a few months at the time, and you didn't want to go overboard, but still show how much you appreciated him. you bought him a card, wrote a sweet message inside, and a fleece-lined jacket you remembered him eyeing when you went into one of the old vintage shops. best to buy it in the summer when people are looking at the t-shirts and shorts instead. he LOVES the jacket, wears it whenever he's cold, and keeps the card in the drawer of his bed stand, along with the other cards you'll inevitably gift him.

S is for... Security ! (how protective are they? what would they do to protect? how do they like to be protected?)

even without a second person to worry about, jason was constantly alert. he has multiple locks on his apartment door, on his windows, a burglar alarm that goes to his phone, a ring door bell 💀, and a bunch of weapons stashed around the flat. just in case. he sleeps with a dagger beneath his pillow without you, a pistol behind his headboard, which he keeps there even when you're sleeping round. but come on, this guy is the red hood, he can and will do anything to protect you if needs be. let's just be glad nothing's happened yet..

T is for... Try ! (how much effort would they put into a relationship?)

too much man 😭😭 but not in a bad way at all !! it's endearing, but after getting attached or even whilst getting into the groove of a relationship, he may worry if it's too much. he's got a note on his phone where he types things he wants to get you, or things he noticed you mention a lot. he makes breakfast or dinner a lot of the time, even will whip up some semi-gourmet snack because he heard your tummy grumble. he may not always be physically affectionate, but he's always trying to show you how much he appreciates you.

U is for... Ugly ! (what would be some of their bad habits?)

LMAO i think the worst thing would be how dirty his apartment can get when you're not round for a while. like i said, if it gets dirty he won't leave it like that for too long, but for like two-three days MAX it will look like those pictyres captain holt shows jake in b99 where he says one of these is your locker and the other is a garbage dump in the philippines, except they're both jake's locker. like i'm comparing jason todd to jake peralta, that's how you know it's bad. but he literally won't let you see it, or anyone see it.

maybe also a smoker, but i think just when he gets extra antsy or anxious or whatever. probably not the type to like ask for a cig at a party if others are smoking, it might be a bit of a shameful thing for him because he associates it with those darker emotions. not a leisure thing.

V is for... Vanity ! (how concerned are they with their looks?)

shaves usually i think, but doesn't mind growing out a bit of stubble if you don't mind it. usually keeps his hair shorter, sides cropped a bit and maybe a little longer on top, so he can make a mohawk when he's in the shower (not that he would tell anyone) but if he grows it out he probably gets a little wavy/curly. because of his helmet he doesn't opt for the longer hair, but if you like it he will especially grow it out. personally don't think too much about his white streak, ik a lot of people think he has one and i agree he does but i don't usually imagine him with one yk ?? but like i think he does i just don't picture him with it. and i think he can be a bit self-conscious about his scarring, but a little lovin goes a long way !

W is for... Whole ! (would they feel incomplete without you?)

i think before he becomes attached, he could survive without a significant other. he's come all this way on his own, he can do it again. maybe he would feel a bit worried about being single forever, but if that's meant to happen, maybe he just isn't the type of person to need someone. but once he's become attached, he would be so depressed if something happened to break your bond. idk if depressed is too big of a word to use in that situation but i mean like he would literally just. not be okay.

Y is for... Yuck ! (what are some of their turn-offs?)

not listening to him or respecting his boundaries for sure. when i say not listening to him, i don't mean when he like makes you do something, not that at all. i mean like if he's telling a story and someone seems disinterested, he can't deal with it he will literally never speak again. or when he expresses discomfort and it isn't listened to, just ignored, like a boundary being crossed. boundaries are definitely very big for jason.

Z is for... ZZZ ! (what are their sleeping habits?)

his habit is that he Can Not. okay not actually, actually i think it's that once he has grown attached, he does struggle to sleep apart from you. but otherwise no proper habits per se ?? i can see him running hot while he sleeps (comfortably), but is also probably a light sleeper.

[spectersgf]

harvey specter x reader idk they meet in a book store (maybe the reader could run it?) never giving each other last names or smhting. but the reader is mikes sister and mike tells her all about harvey but no one manges to connect teh dots? idk you have free control i just thought something like that where the reader has nothing to do wiht his work life and is really soft and sweat .

— bookstores and brothers 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: harvey specter × reader (+ mike ross & reader are siblings)

summary: a hotshot lawyer walks into a café bookstore and meets a pretty barista. the world is smaller than he thinks.

warnings: none! kinda suggestive but nothing crazy

wordcount: 3.7k (yikes!)

a/n: first request! sorry this was so horrifically late but hopefully the length makes up for it? but also not proofread OOPS. (more rambling at the end <3)

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

Ever since your brother, Michael, started making the big bucks at his job as a fraud lawyer, he had decided to invest in you — your business, that is. With his investment, you were able to follow your dream of opening a bookstore-meets-café, with a small apartment atop the store. Your store was popular enough that you were able to live comfortably; you had a community of regular readers who came for your books (especially since you’d always fulfil requests) and a hoard of regulars that came for your coffee. Your coffee was easily the best in the area, and people even went out of their way to get coffee from you.

Someone who went out of their way for your coffee, though you didn’t know this, was Harvey. You knew very little about him; he was a very attractive man who came in at 8:30am, like clockwork, for his black coffee with vanilla and sugar. You were rarely able to converse with him for very long or in a lot of detail, but you had assumptions. He was maybe a banker or some kind of lawyer like your brother, but the only thing you knew for sure was his coffee order and the fact that he wore a three-piece suit every day. On particularly warm days, he’d forgo either the jacket or the vest, both of which were welcome options. On particularly cold days, he wore a scarf and gloves, and even a coat. His hair was always styled the exact same and he had the most wonderful crow’s feet and smile lines. 

This morning, Harvey took you by surprise by coming in earlier than normal. He came in at 8:17am exactly. It was a warm day so he was without his vest, but other than that he was in his normal attire. Since you were having a slower morning this morning, you started his coffee as soon as you saw him approach. By the time he was in the door and at your counter, you’d finished making his coffee and his cup was ready on the counter. You were feeling bold and flirty and had drawn a heart next to his name on the cup and it was visible to him when he stood in front of you.

“Good morning, Harvey.” You were feeling very cheery this morning, and even more so after seeing him walk in the door. 

“Good morning, Y/N. That for me?” He was eyeing the cup on the counter that was very obviously for him, typical smirk on his face and a playful glint in his eye.

“No, it’s a black coffee with sugar and vanilla for the other Harvey in my life.” You teasingly rolled your eyes as he picked up the cup. You weren’t sure if your eyes were deceiving you, but it seemed like he was being careful to not smudge your penmanship on the cup.

“Well, it’s a good thing this other Harvey isn’t here so I can have his coffee.” He took a sip of the drink, completely unfazed by the temperature and smiled. “Perfect as always. Crazy how this other Harvey drinks the exact same niche coffee that I do, hm?”

You bared your teeth in a cheeky smile. “So crazy,” you replied. “Did you want a pastry or anything?” You gestured towards the display case of freshly baked goods, pausing at your favourite. “This one goes down a real treat.”

“How about a rain check on the pastry, and you can bring it with you when I make you dinner tomorrow night at my apartment?” he asked, feeling equally as bold and flirty as you were. He supplemented his question with a warm smile, his entire demeanour oozing confidence. 

“Oh? The elusive Harvey idon’tknowyourlastname asking me on a date, I see?” you teased, though internally you were screaming: ‘YES! I would love dinner with you!’ 

“You’re cute. Is that a yes? Maybe I’ll tell you my last name when you come over.” He was reciprocating your teasing, which you thoroughly enjoyed. You always appreciated a man who could keep up with your humour. 

“I have a better idea. Come back after I close up shop and we can have a reading date. The best way to get to know someone is through the books they like to read.” You smiled shyly, nervous to be rejected, though Harvey didn’t seem like the type of man to rudely reject your ideas. 

His warm smile was all the confirmation you needed. “That sounds perfect. I’ve been meaning to check out the other half of your establishment for some time. I need some enrichment in my life.”

“Well, if by enrichment you mean a cheesy romance, I’m your girl. I have a bad habit of stocking my favourites and I am a romantic at heart, so that’ll make up a lot of what you find here. I have other stuff, too, but I just gravitate to a good romance book,” you rambled. You blushed when you finally caught yourself, smiling as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well, clearly I need some romance in my life. I’ll be here this evening.” He didn’t seem put off by your rambling which you were grateful for. Your stomach buzzed with excitement as you nodded.

“See you this evening.”

���──────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

Harvey had just signed off for the day and was slipping his jacket over his shoulders when Mike Ross walked into his office.

“Haven’t we talked about you not barging in here unannounced?” He asked, only half joking with his associate.

“We both know you don’t care anymore,” Mike replied, rolling his eyes. “And where are you going? It’s only,” he checked his watch, “5:30. Why do you get to leave but I’m stuck here late?”

“First of all, it’s none of your business where I’m going. And second, I did my time working 23 hours a day. And third, it’s none of your business.” Harvey made the decision to take off his tie as he spoke, wanting to feel more comfortable and casual while he was with you.

“Removing your tie, too? You have a hot date tonight. What restaurant are you taking her to?”

“Mike. Shut up.” 

Mike laughed at Harvey’s reaction. “Alright, have fun old man. Use protection!” He shouted as Harvey walked out of his office, no longer entertaining Mike’s discussion. 

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

He arrived much earlier than close. You were unusually busy this evening and hadn’t even noticed Harvey walk into the store as you finished the line of coffees in front of you. You finally finished and swapped with your employee to take over as cashier when a familiar voice ordered a familiar, but niche, coffee.

“Can I get a large black coffee with vanilla and sugar? But can the pretty barista make it and sign my name with a heart like she did this morning?” he teased, smiling as he saw you.

“Harvey! You’re early, I’m not off yet,” you replied, brow furrowed with concern.

“I was finished for the day and thought I’d come in early and chill here. And by finished for the day, I mean distracted and eager.”

“And by chill here, you mean bug me until I’m done?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

“Something like that,” he replied, the look in his eye matching yours. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to hope you meant me when you said ‘pretty barista’ and I’ll bring your coffee over to you in a second.” A warm blush tinted your cheeks as you spoke, swapping places with your confused barista once again.

You quickly made Harvey’s coffee and signed his cup with a heart as he’d requested. After making a mocha for yourself, you spoke to your employees, asking them to take over for you now that the rush had started to slow down for the night. You removed your apron and took your hair out of its loose bun and found Harvey sitting on a sofa in the bookstore portion of your shop.

“Coffee for the gentleman.” You held the coffee cup out for him to take, the side with his name written on it facing towards him. “I would’ve made it in a mug but I had a weird request from the guy ordering it.”

You took a seat next to him and brought your cup to your lips, taking a sip and letting out a quiet hum of appreciation for your drink. He looked at you quizzically as you did so, expecting you to have to get back to work. 

“I managed to get off early. Perks of being the owner.” You smiled over your cup as you slipped off your shoes and got comfortable on the sofa. 

“I don’t think I ever registered that you were the owner here. It’s like, I knew but didn’t know. Does that make sense?” he asked, smiling as he took a sip of his regular coffee.

“It does. Kinda. My brother Michael helped make it happen, he’s a lawyer at some hotshot firm and invested in me and my little dream.” You gestured around the room as you spoke, smiling gratefully at the thought. 

“Did you know I’m also a lawyer at some hotshot firm?” he asked. His tone was light and playful, which you appreciated. 

“I did not. What’s it like, hotshot?” You tucked your feet under you and wrapped both hands around your cup, turning slightly so that your body was completely facing Harvey.

“Well, I’m the best closer in the city. I’m great at what I do and I love doing it. And I have an associate who is determined to become my mini-me. No complaints.” Deep smile lines framed his mouth like a piece of art as you admired him and took in his words.

“A mini Harvey, huh? Sounds like he looks up to you.” Despite your matter-of-fact tone, you were asking a question, curious to know his opinion on the matter.

“It seems like he does. I don’t ever say it but sometimes it feels like pressure. I’ve worked in the grey a lot and I worry about him following in my footsteps. I wouldn’t ever say that to him though.” He opened up to you, though neither of you had expected it. He was surprised by how easy you were to talk to and how quickly he had allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

“It does sound like a lot, but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. My brother always tells me about his mentor; he says that despite making some questionable decisions, he’s great at what he does and he looks up to that. It’s probably a similar situation,” you told him sincerely, reaching out to place one hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. 

“His mentor sounds like a great lawyer. What’s his name? Maybe I know him,” Harvey asked, obviously wanting to change the subject from his vulnerable state.

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember, I have the worst memory literally ever,” you reply, smiling shyly. “I’m good at remembering books, though! Shall we get stuck in?”

“Is this the part where you bombard me with a million love stories?” he teased, clearly amused but secretly excited. 

“God no. Just one. Or you can pick your own.”

“Do you like to reread books?” 

“Oh, I love to. I’ve reread almost all of my favourites.”

He looked at you smiling, amused once again by your answer. “How about this. Let’s read your favourite book together, and then next time we can read mine?”

“Oh? Next time? You’re that sure it’s going to go well tonight?” you asked teasingly, giggling to yourself. 

You stood up and walked to the shelving, immediately finding your current favourite book and pulling out two copies. You got comfortable on the sofa once again and handed one copy to Harvey. “This is a current favourite, but I haven’t had a chance to reread it yet. It’s a university-based hockey romance and the main character is a PhD student who’s half-Indian and vehemently hates hockey players. I loved it. If you don’t like it, please. Do not tell me. I can’t cope with that much heartbreak.”

You beamed at him and Harvey felt his heart melt at your expression. You were clearly passionate and excited to share this book with him, and he was looking forward to reading it; to seeing into a small piece of your soul.

The pair of you read together for about an hour. You kept to a similar pace and offered casual commentary and anecdotes from time to time. You had to resist the urge to spoil the plot, sometimes only offering quiet hums as opposed to full sentences. You gradually felt yourselves growing physically closer, until you were laying down with your head next to his leg and your hair draped across his lap, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa. He was idly twirling a strand of your hair, only pausing to turn a page when necessary. 

You finished the chapter you were reading and made a mental note of where you were up to before snapping the book closed. “Okay, I think we should call it. I’m starving.” You looked up at him from where your head was resting and watched as he closed the book without his hand leaving your hair.

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Since you chose the book, I’ll choose the restaurant. Sound good?” he asked, looking at you with that smile. 

“Sounds great, sweetheart,” you replied, playfully teasing him.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

After the success that was reading and dinner that night, the pair of you went on another date. And another. And another. The pair of you got to know each other like the backs of your hands and became unashamedly infatuated with one another. Harvey told you about his brother, Marcus, and you told him about yours. You mostly focussed on childhood stories about your whizz-kid brother with the photographic memory, but you occasionally did update Harvey on your brother’s relationship with his mentor. All positive, but you sometimes did joke that he sounded like he could be a bit of a dickhead. 

After about a month of consistently seeing each other, you discussed meeting the family. You were in his apartment with your head on his lap, the pair of you laying in his big comfy bed.

“Well, I only have Michael. Our parents passed when we were pretty young and my grandma passed almost a year ago. So you only have to deal with my brother and my best friend. Super easy,” you told him, idly tracing his skin with your index finger. 

“I have my brother and his family; he’s got a wife and kids. And then my mother but we don’t talk. So a similar situation for you. Brother and some friends. I’d say you can meet my associate and colleagues but they’d grill me rather than you. So would Marcus, actually.”

You giggled at his words but stopped as the seriousness of your relationship started to set in. Talking about meeting the family was a big step for you considering how little family you had. Letting someone into that trauma felt extremely vulnerable but just as quickly as you felt nervous, you felt calm. You were ready for this. You wanted this with Harvey. You decided to mess with him regardless.

“So… You think you’re ready to meet the family, hm? That’s a pretty big step,” you started, pretending to be deadly serious.

“Oh? Is it now? You don’t want to meet my family?” he asked, tone playful but you could tell there was an undertone of nervousness when he spoke.

“Well, I don’t think two people engaging in a casual fling have any business meeting each other’s families. Don’t you agree?” you continued to tease, though Harvey couldn’t tell you were only teasing.

“Is that what you think this is? A casual fling?” The hurt was starting to show in his voice and you smiled, not at his pain, but at the fact that clearly the pair of you were on the same page with how serious your relationship had become.

“Is that not what you think it is? Do we need to have the what are we conversation?” The teasing lilt to your voice was obvious this time, which immediately eased Harvey’s nerves and put him out of his misery. He smiled at you, smile lines popping and his eyes sparkling once again.

“No conversation necessary, baby. You’re my girl and I’m your man.” He tugged on the piece of your hair that was wrapped around his finger, causing you to smile.

“My man? Too old for the boyfriend title, hm? Old man,” you joked, poking him in the abdomen. 

“I’ll show you old man,” he replied, flipping you so that you were pinned to the mattress under him. The pair of you were a giggly, smiley mess, both excited to have established what you were to each other. Both true romantics at heart.

The next morning Harvey left you in his bed, heading to the office after kissing you goodbye. You watched him get dressed and style his hair, finishing his process by skillfully tying his tie. You watched his hands move the whole time, thinking about how they were all over you the previous night, and you sighed contentedly. Once he left, you flopped back onto his bed, hair fanning out across the pillows as you inhaled your boyfriend’s scent. 

You spent the next few hours reading, gratefully taking advantage of your day off. You made yourself an at-home coffee and easily moved around Harvey’s lavish apartment whenever you wanted a change of scenery, taking full advantage of the space. At around midday, you placed a lunch order to pick up from your and Harvey’s favourite café and got dressed, opting for a pretty white sundress. You left your hair down in its natural form and quickly left Harvey’s building, picked up lunch, and headed in to his office building.

On your way to Harvey’s office you, surprisingly, bumped into your brother. 

“Mike? What are you doing here?” you asked, not expecting to see him today.

“Obviously I’m lawyer-ing, Y/N. What else?” he replied. His sassy tone was an exact mirror image of how yours sometimes was with Harvey, and the fact that you were siblings became extremely obvious if someone focussed on your mannerisms.

“You mean fake lawyer-ing?” you teased, tone matching his perfectly.

“Ha ha. What are you doing here?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at you, taking in your appearance in his place of work and the bag in your hand.

“Obviously I’m bringing lunch to my boyfriend, Michael. What else?” you mocked playfully, wide smile on your face.

“Boyfriend? Here? Who’s your boyfriend?” he started to ask, but before he could grill you, you spotted Harvey walking towards you.

“Hey, Harvey,” you beamed, greeting him with a warm smile as he walked up to you.

He leaned down to give you a quick peck, completely ignoring Mike’s presence. “Hi, baby,” he mumbled, smiling back at you. He finally turned to look at Mike. “Mike, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Sweetheart, this is my associate that I’ve been telling you about, Mike-”

“Mike Ross,” you interrupted, smiling as the realisation set in. Harvey’s associate was your brother. Your brother’s mentor was your boyfriend. You threw your head back laughing once you realised, shocked that nobody had put the pieces together sooner. “Harvey, meet my brother. Michael Ross.”

The shared look on both of their faces was priceless. They looked at you as if you’d sprouted another head, which only made you laugh more. Both of them joined in once they realised the situation, with Mike being the first one to break the circle of laughs in the middle of the office.

“So this is the hotshot lawyer you’ve been basically ignoring me for?” he asked you, gesturing towards Harvey. “And this is the barista slash bookworm you’ve been dumping all your work on me for?” he asked Harvey, gesturing towards you. 

You both nodded and agreed with a perfectly in-sync, “Yes.”

Harvey looked between you both in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Your last name isn’t Ross.” He was asking a question without actually asking, as he often did.

“Very good observation, Harvey,” you replied.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mike chimed in, causing you to smile. The two of you had always been a sarcastic duo, irritating a lot of your older relatives in your younger years.

“Oh my god,” Harvey mumbled, “There’s two of them. Exactly alike. How did I not realise?”

“To answer your unasked question,” you started pointedly, focussing on your boyfriend and suppressing your giggles, “I took my mother’s maiden name as soon as I was able to. Y/N Ross just sounds ugly, and this way, I get to honour her.”

Both Harvey and Mike visibly softened at your explanation. Harvey snapped out of it after a moment. “You’ve been talking shit about me to your pretty sister?” he asked Mike, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“She was my sister before she was your girlfriend, man. That’s my right,” he replied, punching Harvey right back. “Speaking of, if you ever hurt her, I’ll-”

“What are you going to do? Fake lawyer him?” you jumped in at Harvey’s defence, keeping your voice quiet since you were still in a communal area.

“No, I was going to say I’d beat his ass.”

“Like you could. Have you seen his arms?”

“Okay, can you stop thirsting over my boss right in front of me? That’s disgusting.” Mike pretended to gag at your behaviour and you rolled your eyes in response.

“I can do so much worse, Michael,” you teased, pulling Harvey down by his tie to meet your mouth in a (relatively tame) kiss. Mike said nothing but walked away, muttering to himself about your ‘disgustingly inappropriate behaviour’. 

“Now that he’s finally gone,” you started after releasing Harvey from your hold and holding up the bag in your hand, “Lunch?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

oh my lord this was long. i wrote this in multiple sits. nonnie, i hope this was up to your standards. i hope i did your request justice. pls pls pls do give feedback. thank u so much for your request. there are more requests in my inbox which I'll be getting to in the coming days so send them in! for any suits characters, not just harvey! plus characters from other media! (warning, i know nothing about most things but if i can write for you, i will <3)

taglist: @shadowinthedarkknight @strawberriesareprettycool

[earthtooz]

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 

But it is true. 

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[miridiums-writing]

Hey could you write like a Thranduil x y/n thing? I kinda need it right now.

No Escape

Thranduil x reader fan fic

Imagine : If only you didn’t look so similar to his passed wife, maybe you could have made it out of the elven kingdom with the others.

Authors note : im sorry ive been gone so long, im back now though I promise. Ill set up a new masterlist and we can all forget my old works don’t exist because I hate them all.

The forest was so dark, you and the rest of the company trying to navigate through the winding trails. It was all going fine and well until you all realized you were gong in continuous circles. Seeing the same trees, the same oddly shaped rocks over and over that you all realized something was wrong. “lets just set up camp for now and try again tomorrow.” You insisted, noticing the frustration of the others. “Fine,” Thorin conceded. “We get out of here tomorrow though, we have to keep pushing forwards.”

With that you all settled down for the night, you went off to gather some wood for a fire with Bilbo, unsurprisingly your favourite of the company given how down to earth he was, plus the pure entertainment factor he brought to the group at times due to his cushioned upbringing. “Do you think we actually will get out tomorrow?” Bilbo asked, clearly more worried if that could be the case than he let on. “’course we will, we’ve gotten this far haven’t we?” You reassured, patting the top of Bilbo’s head in hopes of calming his anxiety. “I suppose so.” He mused, adding another stick to the bundle you had already gathered. “Exactly,” You said with a warm smile. “Nothing left to bring us down now except the dragon.” Bilbo seemed to grimace at this. “Don’t remind me” He grumbled. You just laughed lightly. “You’re far too negative, always hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. That’s why you’re here, you little burglar.” “I’m not a burglar.” He reminded. “Well, you’re the best we’ve got, maybe when we’re out of this forest I can help train you how to be stealthy.”

The light banter between the two is quickly cut off by a very loud thump against the forest floor, almost shaking the ground between the pair of you. You immediately dropped the pile of branches to the moss ground, breaking into a sprint back to the others, you could here them in the distance fighting when you’re path was blocked by the biggest spider you’ve ever seen in your life. It was a large black, hairy thing, immediately trying to shoot webs in your direction to catch you. Adrenalin jumped you into first gear, dodging by a hair at the first shot, and bringing your bow and arrow from your back to aim at the spider, aiming right between the eyes and firing the shot. The shot lands. The spider falls, only for three more to appear in its place. This was not going to be easy.

You reach back grabbing another arrow and letting it fly, hitting each spider as they came with pristine accuracy. Even with such accuracy though from years training, it didn’t seem to be enough. The arrows quickly started to dwindle, before running out. Not having enough time between spiders to scavenge for your arrows, leaving you eventually cornered, and empty handed. Though just as one of the spiders went to launch itself at you it got violently thrown backwards by...an elf?

~~~~~

You couldn’t decide whether you preferred the spiders, or this. Getting dragged, cuffed, towards a rathe impressive looking castle. Not that you’d ever say that allowed, in fear of further angering Thorin who already looked like he was plotting the elves deaths in detail, shouting, swearing and struggling as he went. You kept your head down, not sure what was about to happen, but not wanting to anger the elves, especially after they went out of their way to save their lives. Even if it meant they’d ended up getting dragged to the dungeons. You had graciously been given a cell alone. Given you were the only woman in the group it seemed only fair. You got yourself comfy against the wall, listening to the others chat amongst themselves on what to do, waiting for a quiet moment to bring up what felt like the most important thing to worry about. “Where is Bilbo?” You said, cutting through the whispers. The others immediately went silent at that. He wasn’t among them, you hadn’t seen him since before the spiders. “Maybe he’s doing what he does best, burgling the keys.” Baldin grunted. You just hoped he was right.

All talk of escape was cut off by guards coming down, leading Thorin from his cell to meet the king. When the dungeon door closed behind them all of you sighed. If Thorin was angry, which he was, all hope of doing this civilly was going to be immediately snuffed out by his rage. The wait for Thorin to come back was long, and silent. Talk of escape had died completely as you all waited tensely for him to return. And return he did. His eyebrows furrowed in rage, cursing under his breath as he was pushed back into his cell resulting in a loud bang as his body collided with the floor. No words needed to be spoken for them to know it hadn’t gone well. The already depressing reality hit like a train. Unless a miracle happened. This was it.

~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to banging against the bars of your cell. You were crumpled against the wall, your back strained from the position you’d slept in. “Get up.” The guard said gruffly, starting to poke you with the sheathed sword to fully wake you up. “Get up!” The demanded again, much more aggressively than previously. You slowly started more your cramped body up off of the floor. The cell door opened and two guards immediately grabbed your arms ad started dragging you out of the dungeon to who knows where. The walk was long and winding, it felt like they were taking you on a confusing route on purpose to make sure you didn’t know the way out. Or maybe the halls really were this confusing, who knows. Either way you eventually arrived at a rather impressive looking door. Large green wooden panels made up the door with large tree roots encasing the doors, twirling around the doors handles.

Someone from the other side opened the doors leading to what seemed to be a throne room, with a tall blonde haired man sat on top, a rather dramatic crown upon his head, adorned with gems and jewels to mimic a berry branch. He watched closely as you were dragged in, forced to kneel down in front of him on the ground. His expression seemed to change from mild annoyance to surprise as you got closer. Now kneeled before him, the man stood, towering over you as he stared down at your face, almost like he didn’t believe it. “Oh, it’s you” He said, relief and sadness laced his voice. His legs seemed to give out under him and kneeled down staring at your face with tears in his eyes. “Oh my dear, how I’ve missed you. I though- I thought you died.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as his hand reached for your cheek, fingertips gently grazing your cheek. You stared at him blankly. Not a flicker of recognition behind your eyes as he acted as if you were supposed to know him. Confusion took over his features at your lack of response. “Calatheil? My blossom, why are you acting like you don’t know me?” Now it was your turn to be confused, “That’s not my name, I’m (Y/N).” You said in response. The man went quiet after that, staring holes into the floor. “But you look like her.” He said, his voice firm, like it was a fact. “That doesn’t mean I am her”

The man went silent again for a moment, anger passing over his face before disappearing. “Of course it does,” He said. “You’ve just forgotten is all.” His words were firm and absolute. “Ill just need to remind you, my poor wife” You looked at him as if he was insane. “But I’m not. I am not your wife, I’m sorry. But I’m not... I wanna go back to my cell now.” The man laughed without humour. “Absolutely not, my wife shouldn’t be around such vermin.” “Do you mean the dwarves?” you asked, going on the defensive, they were your friends, were they odd absolutely, but that didn’t mean you loved them any less. “Of course I do! You’ll be going no where near them ever again. Guards, take her to my room, and do not under any circumstances let her get free!” He ordered, standing up from his crouched position and heading back to his thrown. “And bring me Thorin! I may be inclined to allow his freedom under a condition.” You were once again grabbed by guards and dragged out. “No! I’d rather cells, don’t you dare, I’m not your wife! Let me go!” Your shouts died down as you were dragged further away, thrashing in an attempt of any escape, managing to get one arm free only for more guards to hold you, overpowered once more by the numbers. The struggling silenced to Thranduil as the door shut behind you.

[captn-trex]

read between the lines

Fox x F!Reader

word count: 8.1k

description: the library is your favourite place to escape to when the galaxy gets too loud, and it just so happens to be the same for a certain marshal commander

warnings: sfw, fox being anxious & being frustrated about it, nervous (kinda non-sensical) ramblings from fox's pov incl. self-deprecating comments (basically projecting my anxiety onto him oops), but it ends cute and nerdy :)

a/n: really wanted to write a fox fic after seeing this post by @welcometo79s about fox being an introvert - I thought the idea was super interesting so here we have an anxious lil fox :) I could yap so much more but my notes are always too long so I'm gonna shut up

Going to the library was one of your favourite pastimes. Especially on a planet like Coruscant, which never seemed to slow down.

You had discovered this little corner of the planet years ago, and you spent more time here than you cared to admit. There were a number of libraries of Coruscant, but none of them as quiet and authentic as this one. You had truly struck gold in finding it, entirely by accident.

The feel of a real book, the feel of flimsi between your fingers, was an experience you relished in this technological day and age. You didn't have anything against technology, it was an integral part of your life and job after all, but holding something so precious and unique in your hands was something else entirely.

This particular library was not very large, though boasted an impressive catalogue of titles nonetheless. You loved curling up by the heater on cold evenings, in one specific cosy red armchair. It was a little more hidden, a reading nook of sorts, and it made the experience feel all the more special. Just you and a book, the outside world, the war, slipping from your mind easily.

In the last few weeks, there was a new regular that had started coming. At first, you were alarmed, his bright red armour alerting you to the fact that he belonged to the Coruscant Guard, but when he picked up a book and settled himself in a window seat, you had relaxed.

You had to admit, you found yourself watching him quite a lot. After a number of times seeing him, you had figured out exactly who he was. It was entirely surprising to you that the Commander of the Coruscant Guard frequented such a place, though he always walked in as if it was exactly where he should be, so you came to respect that.

Going to the library had become part of your daily routine, spending your evenings there as it was much quieter than spending them in your apartment. The people you lived with were particularly loud, not to mention the noise of the city outside the window. However, in the weeks that Commander Fox had begun to do the same thing, you found your reason for going shifting.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by him. You were always too far away to see what he was reading, and he never took his helmet off. You wondered how he could read through it, but you presumed that if it had been made for battle then a book probably wouldn't be a problem.

One day, as he was leaving, you noticed him acting a little odd. He peered around to see if anyone was looking his way, not noticing you at all, and then he pocketed a stylus that the person who sat there before him had left. You smirked, watching him leave the library with a little extra hurriedness to his steps. After that, you decided that you needed to know what it was he was reading all this time, your intrigue finally becoming strong enough.

When you entered the library the next day, he was already sat in his regular seat, one leg stretched out on the seat and the other foot planted on the ground. He held the book in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the stylus that he had stolen the previous day. You found the book you had been reading, and made your way towards his position, your stomach turning just a little.

The window bay that he sat in was reasonably large, with a wooden frame and covered with pillows. You made your way to the opposite side from him and took your seat. His head raised from his book quickly in surprise, and you offered him a smile, before opening up your book and finding where you had left it.

Unbeknownst to you, and contrary to your own thoughts, Fox had noticed you. It was hard not to; you were here everyday, and he found you to be distracting, to say the least. He had often watched you sneaking glances at him, the secrecy afforded by his helmet allowing his cheeks to heat up without detection. It was the reason he rarely took his helmet off really, he didn't want anybody to he able to read him, he had a hard enough time conveying his thoughts through words without people watching him try to do it.

Fox had always been somewhat of an introvert, a stark contrast to his brothers. He didn't know how he had ended up not sharing in his brothers’ natural outgoing demeanour, but it was something that affected him constantly. He managed to have a commanding presence and confidence in his work through his rigorous training on Kamino, and he now had enough experience in his role that it felt safe, natural. Though at the end of a long day, when his brothers went out to 79s, he much preferred to be by himself. He craved so deeply to have his own space, and finding this library recently had afforded him some semblance of that.

Fox drew his knee up towards his chest so that he wasn't invading any of your personal space, despite the feeling that that was exactly what you had just done to him. He watched you from behind his visor, intrigued and confused. You didn't look up from your book once, leafing through the pages gradually as you took in the information on them. You were reading something non-fiction, something to do with theories about wild space and beyond. Somehow that surprised Fox - he didn't know what he expected you to be reading but it wasn't that. After his heart had stopped racing at the thought of having to talk to someone, he let his eyes drift back to his own book.

For the entirety of the evening, you didn't talk to Fox, nor did you so much as look at him. He found it to be equally relieving and maddening. He was glad that you both seemed to just be enjoying each other's presence without the need for conversation, but he couldn't understand why you had joined him.

He knew his armour made him stand out among the civilians, and usually people seemed to be scared of him because of it, as if he would arrest them for looking at him the wrong way. It was a blessing and a curse. People left him alone, but he stood out nonetheless. He got what he wanted, but was constantly being perceived in ways he didn't know as he did.

He wondered what your angle was.

When he had seen you watching him, he had initially thought it was for the same reason: that you were scared of him. However, he soon realised that you looked at him with no contempt, no ill-will, and now that you had come and sat yourself within his presence, he was even more interested to know what was going on in your head.

After a number of hours - he had lost count how many - he noticed you rising from your seat. You placed down the cushion that you had set in your lap as you read, and cast a glance over to him. With how he had rested his book in his lap and looked up, it was obvious he was looking at you, and you gave him another sweet smile.

He was overtaken by the need to speak with you. Your kind gestures seemed to be an obvious response to the way he was acting, and that you were respecting the fact that he didn't want to talk. Unfortunately, before he could work up the courage, you had gone back over to the bookshelf and put the book back in its place, leaving shortly thereafter.

Fox sighed audibly, and it came out as a small hiss through the filter of his helmet. Despite liking his own space, he had enjoyed having someone else with him, just sitting in silence while you both focused on your own things. He didn't have that kind of interaction with any of his brothers, they were often far too excitable for him.

He loved his brothers dearly, they meant a lot to him, but being around them all of the time tired him out, and sometimes it was nice to get away from them. He found himself thinking that perhaps he didn't always have to do it by himself. Perhaps it was possible to spend time with someone who didn't drain his energy. Someone like you.

When Fox arrived at the library the next day, you were already there, sat in your regular seat. He watched you for a moment, the corners of your lips lifting as you read something from your book. You looked so kind, so approachable. He didn’t feel as though you were trying to draw him in in any particular way, at least not in a way that would ordinarily have him feeling flustered. It didn't seem that you sought anything that would draw him out of his comfort zone at all. With that in mind, he just truly felt like indulging in your simple company once more, and so he did.

He approached the corner of the library where you were slightly hidden away, and he settled himself in the armchair opposite you. You looked up to watch him do so, and smiled warmly when his visor turned towards you. The crinkles at the edges of your eyes gave away how pleased you were that he had decided to join you, and he relaxed a little, his body moulding into the chair as he opened up his book.

As you had the previous day, you both engrossed yourselves in your books. The worries of today and tomorrow washed away and you just soaked up the words on the page. You were curled up in your chair, a cushion held to your stomach as you often did, whereas Fox had his legs outstretched, one over the other, his hand tucked under his arm as the other held his book. You were both just comfortable.

As the day wound to a close, you flicked your eyes to the clock, and thought that you best be getting home.

Fox watched you raise from your seat, placing the cushion back onto it neatly. His stomach lurched a little, once again feeling the urge to speak to you. He felt exceedingly stupid as he couldn't bring himself to do it, and he was floundering for something, anything to say.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, a little louder than he would've liked, especially for in a library. You turned back to him, your eyes finding his visor as you waited for him to continue.

Fox's brain drew a blank. He couldn't think let alone speak right now. However, you just gave him a patient smile, not expecting anything. It calmed his mind enough to ask a simple question.

“What's your name?”

Your smile grew a little before you replied, you voice even more kindly than he could have imagined - soft, yet assured. He couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth raise a little under his helmet. After a moment, he realised that you weren't asking his name, and his smile dropped, slightly panicking for something to say again. He would've given anything to be as outgoing as his brothers at this very moment, or any subsequent one.

“Well” You cleared your throat as he just looked up at you, and a small smirk wound its way onto your face. “I suppose I'll see you around, Commander Fox” You gave him a little mock salute as you turned away.

Fox could feel his cheeks burning, his mind now in overdrive. You knew who he was the whole time? Somehow he felt especially embarrassed more than anything, and slumped back into his chair with a huff. What was he supposed to say to you now? How much did you know about him? If you knew who he was, why did you sit with him? And why didn't you say anything?

Endless questions swirled around in his head, stopping him from enjoying his book for the rest of the evening. Even as he tried to sleep in his bunk, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, his cheeks still burning as he thought of how stupid he must've sounded asking your name and sitting by you, when you knew exactly who he was.

He desperately wanted to know what you thought of him. Surely if you knew his name then you'd know other things about him? But what did you know? Had you heard that he was somewhat removed or lonely and thought he could use a friend? Because that would be positively mortifying.

Fox ran a hand over his face. He shouldn't be thinking like this. For all that he avoided them, he cared far too much what people thought of him. He wished he could stop doing that.

Fox had thought about not going to the library the next day, but after a long talk with himself in the mirror, he decided that it didn't matter what you thought of him, and he wasn't going to let it ruin what he had come to know as his little corner of the galaxy.

He was already there when you arrived, as you had come a bit later than usual. That had only struck Fox with an unpleasant feeling in his gut, but he wasn't going to let on.

You slowly approached his window seat with your book tucked in your hands. His head didn’t raise until you spoke.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Fox's head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes a little wide behind his visor. He elected not to speak, and instead nodded his head and gestured vaguely to the other side of the window.

Unlike the last couple of days, Fox was positively unfocused on his book. It was maddening, all he wanted to do was relax, especially after his sleepless night and the stack of flimsiwork that had awaited him on his desk this morning. He couldn't be so lucky, you had to go and distract him. Of course it wasn't your fault, and Fox knew that, he was just annoyed that he couldn't shut his mind off for once second. Ever.

After around 45 minutes had passed, and Fox had finally settled into reading his book, he noticed you watching him, and he internally groaned. He had just started relaxing.

He raised his head to let you know he saw you looking at him, and you smiled warmly before speaking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

That made him nervous, the slight anticipation making his head nod quickly to release it.

“Is your helmet comfortable?” You asked, resting your book in your lap.

Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn't that.

“Uh… yeah, it's fine” He replied awkwardly.

“Cool” You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and opened your book back up.

Fox just stared at you. Was there not any other reason for you asking that? Did you actually just want to know if his helmet was comfortable or not? Why couldn't he stop questioning your motivation for doing anything?

“How do you know my name?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

Your expression was sheepish when you looked back up at him again, and you fumbled slightly with your book, losing your page. You let out a small huff at that, “I don't know, I think everyone kind of knows who you are”

That was probably the worst reason you could have given. Fox cringed, his body folding in on itself fractionally even though he tried to stay rigid and strong.

He looked back down to his book and tried to read, but now it just felt like the awkward silence was swallowing him whole. He couldn't focus on the page, his mind swirling with various words that he tried to string together to reply to what you had said.

After a few minutes of that, Fox was fed up. He practically slammed his book closed and strutted over to the desk to return it, not looking back as he left.

The next night, you were still put out by the Commanders actions. You went to the library anyway, convinced that he probably wouldn't be going, that you had well and truly scared him off. You didn't know exactly why, or rather how, you had done it, but you could tell he'd been frustrated by it. You hadn't hardly said anything to him, but you supposed that you had managed to offend him in those few short words.

Thankfully, it soon slipped from your mind as you curled your legs into your chest and dove into the new book you had picked up today.

If Fox had been embarrassed by you knowing who he was, he was positively beside himself with mortification now. He had blocked it out the entire day, holing up in his ‘office’ and burying himself in his flimsiwork so he couldn't possibly let another thought into his head.

As it got to the end of the day, Fox couldn't stop watching the clock. Time was creeping along at a painfully slow pace, and that was as he was already staying late. It felt like torture, working late just to stop himself thinking. His brain was at maximum capacity, and all he wanted to do was rest.

“Commander” A voice called out, and Fox's head lifted slowly to see Thorn standing in front of his desk, “Maker, you look rough”

Fox scowled, “I thought I told you to knock”

“I vaguely remember you saying that…” Thorn said, a mocking grin growing with each word. “You do know this isn’t a door right?” He said, knocking on the wall that only vaguely separated Fox’s desk from the others.

Fox just rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

“We're clocking out now, you fancy coming to 79s?” Thorn asked hopefully.

“You already know the answer” Fox looked down at his flimsiwork again.

Thorn huffed, “Come on vod, just this once?”

“I've got work to do” Fox replied.

“That's what you always say”

Fox gave Thorn a tired look, “Another time”

“You always say that as well” Thorn remarked.

Fox sighed aggressively, “Look, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight”

“Alright, alright” Thorn put his hands up in surrender, “I'll get you next time”

“I doubt it” Fox mumbled under his breath as his brother left.

He picked up his stylus. It was the one he had stolen from the library, or more accurately, whoever had left it at the library. He let a sigh escape him. It was filled with mixed emotions, positive memories of the library tinged by his own stupidity.

He twirled the stylus in his hand, manoeuvring it through his fingers. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to go to the library, to seek the respite he so desperately desired. If you were there, he could just ignore you, it couldn't be that hard.

Once that thought had entered his mind and he'd let it grow for just a second, he rose to his feet, grabbing his helmet from the edge of his desk. When he stepped out of his corner, the chattering voices he could hear stopped, and the two remaining clones in the office looked towards him.

“Ah, Commander, you decided to join us after all” Thorn grinned.

“Uh, no. I’m going out” Fox replied, continuing to walk towards the door.

“Where to?” Stone asked, pushing himself from his desk.

“Just- out” Fox replied, much more rigidly than he would've liked. It sounded extremely suspicious coming out.

“Out? Like on a date?” Thorn asked.

“No!” Fox barked back, almost stopping in his place.

“Oh my god, you are” Stone’s expression turned to a broad grin as he dashed towards the door, stopping his brother from leaving.

“I'm not” Fox insisted, a sharp glare directed at Stone.

“You're blushing” He pointed out, which only intensified Fox’s glare. Stone pushed his brother's shoulder lovingly, “Aw vod, I'm so happy for you”

Fox rolled his eyes, pushing past his brother and grumbling to himself as he could hear the two of them laughing at his expense. He loved his brothers, but they really got on his last nerve sometimes.

When he got to the library, it was much later than he usually arrived, which the librarian commented on as he checked out his book. He just gave her a polite nod, not really pleased at his patterns being recognised.

He had planned to just ignore you, but when he saw you sitting in your usual seat, curled up and peaceful, reading your book as if you were the only two things in the galaxy, he couldn't help but feel drawn to you once more. He walked over to you in a few long strides, and cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes a little wide.

“Commander” You said, a little unsurely as it wasn't entirely clear if he wasn't upset with you or not. You couldn't tell from under the helmet.

“Please don't call me that” He replied in a somewhat affronted tone, though he must have seen how taken aback you were because he instantly backtracked, “I mean- No, just- Fox is fine, please”

“Okay then” You smiled, “Hi Fox”

Fox returned the smile, even though you couldn’t see it, “May I join you?”

You nodded, gesturing to the armchair opposite you. Fox sat down, leaning forward and clearly not finished speaking.

“I am… sorry, for leaving abruptly yesterday”

You couldn't stop your face from twitching with amusement, “You don't have to be sorry”

“Right… yeah” His hand snaked to the back of his neck on instinct as he spoke awkwardly.

“I do hope I didn't offend you though” You added, drawing your eyebrows together.

“Offend me?” Fox seemed genuinely confused.

“About… knowing who you are” You jogged his memory.

“Oh, no” Fox shook his head lightly. It had sent him spiralling, but you didn't need to know that.

“Good” You smiled sweetly and flicked your eyes back down to your book.

Fox watched you for a moment longer then opened his book, finding his place and continuing on.

What he liked the most about you, not that he knew much else, was that you seemed content just being in each other's space, and not needing to talk to fill the time. Talking wasn't his strong suit, it stressed him out at the best of times, even when he pretended it didn't. Particularly then, in fact. Somehow, without even communicating with each other verbally, this was the most meaningful connection he had shared with someone new in a long time. He didn't know that you thought that way too, but somehow he felt that you did.

Not too long later, the librarian came to tell you both that the library would be closing soon. Fox nodded and stood from his seat, but paused in going to hand his book back in when he realised you weren't moving. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

“Aren't you coming?” He questioned, his voice clearly showing his confusion.

You looked up to him, your lips curling into a smile, “I'm not quite done here yet”

Fox frowned, then sat back down opposite you, his knees spread and elbows leant against them, a stance he often took when questioning someone.

“You'll be chucked out by the librarian” He stated.

You shook your head gently, “I can be sneaky”

“Then you'll be locked in” He tried to find reason in whatever idea you had up your sleeve.

“Eh” You shrugged, “I can pick the lock”

Fox tilted his head. Even though you couldn't see the confusion on his face, you still found the action a little cute.

“You realise I could have you arrested for that”

Fox could see your eyes flash with a small amount of alarm as you remembered exactly who was sitting in front of you, but it was gone as soon as it came, and instead you narrowed them a little.

“Well, that would be a little pointless” You said as if it were obvious.

Fox’s eyebrows raised instinctively, “And why is that?”

“Because you'd have to arrest yourself too” You stated, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a grin overtaking your face.

“Wha-”

Before he could even finish the word, you had jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the rows of bookshelves and pulling him in between two of them.

He wanted to protest, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was once again thankful for the shield that was his helmet, because he knew that his cheeks must have been bright red with the way you were looking up at him. Your face bore the widest grin, your eyes crinkled at your own mischief, and he was hopeless to do anything about it now.

Fox’s head was telling him to leave, that breaking the law, something that he dedicated his life to upholding, was not a good idea. Though between your excitement and the secret thrill it was giving him, his heart was aching to stay. So he did.

He watched you as you glanced around and listened out for the librarian. Somehow the only thing in his mind was that if he rocked forwards onto the balls of his feet that he'd probably be touching you, or at least feel the heat of your body. The thought was disturbed when the lights cut out and the librarian could be heard walking nearby. You grabbed his arm again, tugging him down the shelves to hide against the other end.

You were grinning, resting your temple against the end of the shelves and looking up at him.

“Having fun?”

Fox just hummed in reply as he copied your posture, not giving much away. You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, and you kept listening out for the librarian. Soon enough, the clunk of the outdated technology of lock and key slotting together rang out in the darkness of the library, and you stood up straight, walking back over to your regular spot.

By the time Fox caught up with you, you had turned on a nearby lamp and were already sat back in the chair with your book open. He just sat opposite you, watching you through his visor.

The library was usually quiet, but now it was dead silent, and Fox couldn't help but relish in that fact. Even the sounds of the city couldn't be heard in here. It was an entirely peaceful moment, something he rarely got the opportunity to indulge in.

Fox peered around the library, making sure nobody else was lingering after closing, and then hooked his thumbs under the base of his helmet, pulling it off with a quiet hiss. The noise made your head raise, seeming loud in the quiet environment.

It was hard not to stare. You knew more or less what he looked like, he was a clone after all, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him. His dark curls, streaked by silver, his eyes a dark brown and his battle worn skin. He was gorgeous, so rugged yet so stately, and so unique in his appearance as compared to the brothers of his that you had met.

He noticed you examining his face and immediately went to put his helmet on.

“No!” You called out, a little more desperately than you hoped for. Fox gave you a weary and puzzled look, and you could have melted right there. It was strange to see the emotion on his face when he had always concealed it from you.

“Sorry” You coughed out, a little flustered, “I didn't mean to stare”

Despite your words, you continued to observe him, inspecting his face. Every mark, every scar, every feature drawing you in.

Fox tilted his head to the side a fraction, a small crease forming in his brow, “You're still staring”

“Right, sorry” You looked down to your book and scanned your eyes across the page, trying to find where you had been when you got distracted by the sheer beauty of the man before you. It certainly wasn't helpful to think of it in those terms when you were trying not to look at him.

Fox let one side of his mouth quirk up at your reaction to him. He hadn't really expected you to care all that much, but your darkened cheeks were telling him that perhaps you did. He spoke your name, and the sound of his voice unfiltered by his helmet sent a shiver running up your spine.

“Hm?” You replied, glancing up.

“How often do you stay after closing?”

“Oh, not that often” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Why tonight?” He pressed.

You hesitated, “Well, you didn't come until late, and… I feel like that was kinda my fault”

Fox couldn't help the way his stomach flipped, even if he didn't know exactly why it had. He placed his book down on the table next to him.

“It's not your fault” He asserted, “I had a lot of work to do”

It wasn't exactly a lie, but he wasn't going to tell you that he had been trying to banish you from his head all day.

“But thank you. It's not often that I get to-” He gestured his hand vaguely around the library, “Experience the quiet like this”

“No problem” You smiled, setting your book down as well. It seemed you both were now more interested in each other's company than that of the books you had chosen.

Fox bit the inside of his cheek, a little nervous under your undivided attention. The feeling in his stomach was akin to his usually anxiety around socialising, but it felt different, not entirely unpleasant.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” You replied, “I'm an open book”

Fox let out a breathy chuckle, the amusement dancing in your eyes letting him know that your pun wasn't accidental.

“What do you do?”

“Like… for work?” You asked.

“Yeah, I guess” Fox shrugged. He didn’t really mind what you talked about, he just wanted to know more about you.

“Um” You looked away, flexing your hands nervously, “Nothing. I mean- you know, nothing interesting… or important”

Fox hummed, giving you a sceptical look, “Something tells me breaking into libraries in the middle of the night isn’t the only illegal thing you do”

“Okay, first of all - I don’t break in, I only break out-”

“Not much better really” Fox shrugged, trying to keep the smirk from his lips unsuccessfully.

”Sure, maybe not” You smirked, “But it’s hardly malicious. It’s nothing like, say… Stealing someone’s private property, such as a stylus or something like that…”

A blush dusted Fox’s cheeks immediately, now knowing you had indeed caught him doing exactly that. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to find a way to explain himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” You teased, resting your hand on his knee for a second to draw his attention back to you, “Besides, who would I tell? We’ve already established that you’re not going to arrest yourself”

Fox dragged his gaze back to you, the gentle touch only making his cheeks burn hotter. He gave you a weary sort of look, but the edge of his lips curled upwards nonetheless.

“Why did you steal it?” You then asked, devoid of any of the teasing tone you had previously employed.

“Uh” Fox ran a hand through his hair, “Well… I don’t really have anything that’s… Mine”

You gave him a puzzled look, “How do you mean?”

Fox cleared his throat, “I mean… I don’t really have possessions, I share all of my time and my space with my brothers. I don’t have a place that is mine, to put anything that might be mine”

He paused for a moment, conscious that he may be oversharing, but your even gaze, the way you were sitting forward and listening attentively told him that perhaps you didn’t mind. That you were interested in what he was saying.

“I have an office, sort of, but not really. It’s just a tiny area in the corner of the Guard’s office, so it’s a little closed off, and it barely even fits my desk, but- anyway. I just take what I can get I suppose” He wrapped up his rambling.

“I can understand that”

“You can?” He asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ve… never had a space to myself either really”

“You don’t have an apartment or something?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Not to myself. I live with three other people, and they’re very… loud. That’s why I come here”

“Yeah, same here I suppose” Fox smiled, then his face fell a little, “Hold on- We didn’t get to the bottom of what you do for work”

You chuckled a little nervously, “I’m a mechanic”

Fox gave you a dubious look, “That doesn’t sound illegal”

“It’s not” You sighed, “It’s just… my boss is a little dodgy”

Fox took a moment to shift in his seat, trying to appear casual, “What kind of dodgy? Who… is it?”

You just smirked at him, “You’re not getting it out of me that easily I’m afraid, Commander”

Fox wanted to chuckle, but he was also suddenly struck by the fact that he had no reason to believe you had any moral integrity or that you actually were any sort of good person.

“You don’t think they should be brought to justice?” He spoke with trepidation.

You smiled a little, “Yeah, I guess I do, but then I would be out of a job”

“You could get another one” Fox reasoned.

“It’s not that simple” You stated, “I don’t live with three people for the fun of it after all”

Fox was confused, you could see that much woven into the frown he gave you.

“I can’t afford anything else” You completed the thought, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Oh, right” Fox replied.

Fox didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t faced that kind of issue before in his own life, so he couldn’t say he fully understood. He wasn't shy of people turning to crime because of money, their were often few other reasons, though it certainly gave a new perspective to the way he looked at his role of what had turned into a short jump from policeman.

“Anyway” You said more cheerily, “It isn't such a bad job, I do get to spend my evenings here”

Fox smiled at that, “How long have you been coming here?”

“A few years” You replied.

It wasn't long before you were talking animatedly, sharing little details of your life with Fox. He could feel himself coming out of his shell the more you talked, enamoured by the way you spoke and the things you had to say. He found himself agreeing with many of the observations you made, even if he didn't say so. It was also hard to ignore how drawn to you he now felt, in a way he hadn't experienced with many others, possibly anyone. He told you details about himself too, a little bit about his brothers, about a book that he had heard of but couldn’t find, about what he does in the Coruscant Guard.

You were explaining a passage of your favourite book, and the way the light was hitting you face was making it hard for Fox to concentrate on your words fully.

“Do you think that was the right thing for them to do?” He asked, a crease in his brow to show his engagement.

“Well, no. Probably not, but that's what the book is questioning” You explained, then noted Fox's slightly dazed expression, “Maybe they should take a page out of your book and just start stealing” You raised your eyebrows a little, and Fox laughed defeatedly, both as his own habits and your terrible library humour.

“I can't believe you saw me do that and still came and sat with me” He joked, the outright sarcasm feeling unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Oh no, that was what made me do it” You admitted a little theatrically.

“Really?” He cocked his head to the side, giving you a genuine disbelieving look.

“Yeah, it interested me. I wanted to know what the Commander of the Coruscant Guard was doing stealing from a library” You chuckled, “It was just… not what I expected, I guess”

“What did you expect?” He asked with a teasing edge, “The armour does tend to give a certain impression”

“Oh no, I would never judge a book by its cover” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense, a smile still pulling at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “Do you always have such terrible humour?”

“I think it's funny” You shrugged, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped it. You blinked a few times, and it was only then that you realised it was most likely very late. Checking your watch, you saw that it was past midnight and you sat forward in your chair, “I should be getting home really”

Fox was tired as well, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet. Though, he didn't want to keep you if you were tired, and he wasn't exactly fully awake himself.

“Can I escort you back?” He suggested.

You smiled as you stood up, “Sure, that'd be nice”

Fox followed suit, grabbing his helmet, and letting you lead the way to the door, both of you returning your books to the shelf on the way.

“My very own Coruscant Guard escort, lucky me” You muttered, eyelids heavy with sleep as you looked up at him with a smirk.

Fox’s lips formed a similar expression. He rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t as spiteful as when he had directed it at his brother earlier on in the night. He had completely forgotten about the aspect of having to pick the lock, so was a little surprised when you then produced a small tool from your pocket and knelt down, slotting it into the keyhole.

“Should I be worried that you carry around a lock pick?” He asked, placing his helmet over his head.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I only use it for this. Besides, it's just a regular tool, not specifically a lock pick”

The door cracked open, and you pulled the tool out, placing it back in your pocket.

It was only a few blocks to your home, and on the way you explained to Fox how you had first found the library on an evening stroll shortly after moving into your current apartment, trying to get away from your loud roommates.

You could already hear them as you approached now, music turned up loud and some form of excited squealing spilling from the windows. You cracked open the door, and winced as the noise became ten times louder. You gave Fox a sheepish expression and he chuckled a little.

“I can see why you go to the library” He noted.

“Yeah” You sighed, rubbing your neck, “They’re not so bad really, just…”

Fox nodded in understanding.

You both just stayed watching each other for a moment, neither one of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye. You stared into Fox's visor, hoping to find his eyes behind it, and by some miracle, he understood that, and took it off in one smooth motion.

You smiled up at him as his eyes emerged from beneath the mask, and his heart instinctively skipped a beat. With you looking up at him like that, and nothing to hide his own emotions, he suddenly felt exposed. His stomach erupted into what felt like his usual anxiety-ridden state, but for once, it was more exhilarating than it was scary.

“I'm glad I made you stay behind tonight” You admitted, little care for how odd the words sounded.

Fox chuckled slightly, “Yeah, me too”

There was another moment of silence, and now Fox read it as awkwardness, so he immediately began backing away.

“I- Um, I'll see you around?” He offered.

Your smile faltered for half a second before you replied, “Yeah, see you around”

Fox watched you get inside safely, and then turned on his heel to head back to his quarters.

The whole way back, and well into the night, Fox couldn't get you out of his head. Though, this time he didn't mind.

The following morning, Fox was once again buried in flimsiwork, already on his third caf and ready to pull his hair out.

“Commander” Fox heard the unmistakable voice from the ‘door’ of his office, and he could have easily groaned in frustration.

“I thought I told you to knock” He grumbled, not bothering to look up from his flimsiwork.

“Perhaps you did” Thorn shrugged, a grin evident in his voice, “But you have a visitor”

Fox's head snapped up at that.

“A visitor?”

“Mhm” Thorn confirmed in a somewhat teasing manner, “No idea how she got past security downstairs but, there's a woman asking to see you”

Fox frowned a little, but stood from his desk, walking over to look around the corner. He saw you leaning on Thorn's desk, looking around the office and a book clutched between your hands. You were in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, folded down to the waist with leather gloves tucked into the belt, and seemingly not caring one bit how your appearance made you stand out in the office.

He called your name, and your head turned towards him, along with everyone else in the office that had already been staring at the you, the person who didn't belong. Your eyes lit up a little as you saw him, and you pushed yourself from the desk, striding over to him and Thorn.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, leading you into his corner of the office.

“I wanted to g-”

“Actually, hold on one moment” Fox interrupted you, then walked back out into the office to find Thorn and Stone waiting just outside with their ears turned to the wall. Fox rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, making them jump away.

“Could I maybe have some privacy?” He gave them a pointed look.

Both of them mumbled a ‘yes sir’ as they slunk away, brandishing matching smirks. Fox huffed, before returning to you.

“Sorry about that” He ran a hand through his hair, “Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I'm fine” You smiled, “I came to give you this”

You held up the book in your hands, offering it to him. Fox eyed it suspiciously, his gaze flicking between you and the book.

“Did you steal this from the library?”

You laughed gratuitously, “No. I thought we established that was your thing”

“But…” Fox frowned, “Did you buy it then? You really shouldn’t have spent your money-”

“I didn’t buy it, it’s mine” You cut him off, “Well, it was mine, it’s yours now”

You tried to hand it to him but Fox just pushed it back towards you, taking a step forward, “I couldn’t possibly take your property”

“I want you to have it” You grabbed his hand and forced him to take it, looking up into his eyes intently.

Fox’s heart stuttered at your intense gaze, aware of how your hand still rested over his as you awaited his reply. He looked down at the book, and turned it over to read the spine. His eyes quickly found yours again, and a grin had bloomed on your face.

“This is it” He breathed out, “The book I was looking for”

“It is” You nodded, finally taking your hand away from his.

“Wh- How- I didn’t even know what it was called, how did you…?”

“I guess I can read between the lines” You shrugged, your grin widening, and Fox laughed, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “I’ve read it a few times” You admitted, then flipped the book open, revealing annotations in the margins, “I went through and pointed out my favourite parts, wrote a bit about why and kinda analysed it a little”

“You wrote these notes for me?” He questioned, his voice sounding unusually small as his brows pinched together.

“Yeah” You gave him a warm smile, “That way, it’s like… personalised for you”

Fox was at a loss for words. You had really listened to him yesterday, and heard how his lack of personal effects weighed on his mind, and now you were giving him something of yours, and you had made it personal to him. His chest spread with warmth, his shoulders relaxing in a small contented sigh.

He let the book fall to his side, and he leaned forwards onto the balls of his feet, so his chest was almost against yours. He brought his hand up and gently brushed your hair away from your forehead, his hand lingering against your cheekbone. Your eyes shone up at him, and a genuine smile crossed his face.

“I'm glad I met you” Fox murmured, his voice low so that only you could hear.

“I know you are” You grinned.

Fox rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, because you can read me so well”

You chuckled, your head tipping to the side in thought, “I hadn’t thought of that one actually. Looks like you’re picking up my novel sense of humour though”

Fox scoffed a laugh, “You’re terrible”

“Maybe” You shrugged, “But I like to think that maybe you don't mind”

Fox hummed, “Perhaps not”

You grinned up at him for a moment, and then stepped back, “I should be getting back really, I'm not supposed to be here”

“You don't have to tell me that” Fox raised his eyebrows at you, “How did you manage get up here?”

“A fun story for another time” You smirked, disappearing around the corner.

Fox followed after you, watching you leave from where he leant in the doorway, when you stopped in your place and turned back to him. You seemed to be weighing something in your head, and then evidently decided to go through with it, jogging back over to him.

Fox raised an eyebrow as you came to stand in front of him, “What is it?”

“I forgot something”

“Forgot wha-?”

Fox was interrupted by you raising onto your tiptoes and placing a delicate kiss to his cheek, your hand finding his to steady yourself. The feel of your hand gently holding his, let alone your lips on his cheek, was enough to set his skin alight. His cheeks were already burning by the time you pulled away.

You gave him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand lightly and speaking in a whisper, “See you later”

Fox watched you go with wide eyes, his body unable to move from where it was firmly rooted to the ground. Your body finally disappeared out of the office, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise that he’d been holding, his body relaxing.

“So you did have a date” Stone nudged his brother, a grin almost splitting his face. Fox just gave him a withering look.

“What did I say about privacy?”

“Well I figured that since you made it everyone's business-”

“I suggest you get back to work, Stone”

“Yep. Got it”

Fox settled himself back at his desk, his fingers trailing along the spine of the book that was now in his possession. His cheeks were still burning, and they probably would be for the rest of the day. He was looking forward to going to the library that night, but it wasn’t for the books this time.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

[obsessive-valentine]

What if when farmer takes his monthly shopping spree with reader stuck sitting in the car they decide that they’re close enough to others to finally escape or tell someone about their situation with farmer.

Escape - Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

Content waning! This isn’t one of my usual soft yans -A lot of threats, gaslighting, acts of and -even more thoughts of- violence and murder. Our usually stoic farmer has reached his wits end when his anger issues are triggered once again and he’ll be sure darling won’t have the gall or means to even think of doing such a thing ever again.

He’d try not to escalate the situation if he didn’t have to but he is capable of murdering your wanna be saviour if it comes down to it, then hiding the body in the pick up truck bed till he gets home to feed it to the dogs.

He tries to contain his anger on the car ride back, until he can put darling away in the shed and have a day or two to reset and calm down, then he goes into victim blaming, fear mongering and gaslight mode to scare darling back in place and will continue doing this for a few days until darling is sure to not even think of such an act again.

Even though there’s no way for them to escape now since he refuses to take darling with him into town for a long long time, instead he locks them in the shed when he has to go into a town.

-fic under the cut -

...

He’d warned you that afternoon before you both got in the old pick-up truck “you’re not to leave the truck, you hear me? If I see you so much as to look out the window to another person there will be hell to pay” he locked the front door of the house and you nodded to yourself. You weren’t sure if you should be exited or nervous, you weren’t sure you wanted to go at all.

Part of you excited to see a town and real people, you’d been isolated with just animals and a kidnapper for so long you’d long given up hope of living a mundane small town life. But all this raised another problem, the temptation to escape. You’d be trapped in the truck alone for some time so you must be able to escape at some point, but if that fails, you’d hate to think what he’d do to you. He has a nasty temper.

Most the ride was landscapes and bumpy roads, you knew it’s impossible to walk all this way but you’ve thought about it before, you’d run as far as you could and then lay down on one of the country roads when you get to exhausted and hope someone (other than him) finds you. But you’d never get passed the dogs, it was still devastating to be reminded how far from the towns you were.

The closer to the town you both got houses started popping up, quaint little cottages with pretty little gardens and fences. You day dreamed what it would be like to live there with a loving husband and a happy little family, maybe you’d keep chickens in the back and drive into town for work in a flower shop or small caffe.

You stopped yourself before you became to attached to a life that not yours to live, instead you continued to toss around the idea of escaping, running through dozens of possibilities and outcomes. Still unsure if you’d have the gall to follow through with any of them.

...

The sky was getting dim by the time town houses began popping up, the town is quieter than it would have been in the afternoon. Though you presume that’s what your kidnapper wanted, you’d gathered that he’s pretty antisocial. But some people were out. You felt the atmosphere in the truck get tense the further into town you both got and remember his warnings, so you kept your head down and listened to the radio instead.

He pulled into a quiet parking lot in and he parked in a far corner, he unbuckled his seat belt and for a moment you thought he was just going to leave without another word. But he turned to you, the most serious you’ve seen him “do you want anything?” The question caught you off guard and sat like a gaping fish for a second.

You blurted out one of your favourite sweets. Maybe you could get him to spend more time in there looking for it, giving you more time to escape. He nodded like he was taking a mental note, and then as if he could read your mind he said “I’ll be quicker than you think, be good” he seemed to search your eyes for something before hesitatingly locking the door and walking away.

You watched him enter the shop and immediately tried the door handle even though you heard him lock the car, it’s one of those old pick-ups with a separate key for the door so there was no other way to unlock them. Then you began rummaging through the draws and pockets for anything that could help, maybe a phone, a spare key to the door or engine maybe something capable of breaking the window. It was far fetched and knew you wouldn’t find anything but you’d regret it if you didn’t try.

At some point you refocused your attention, you needed to have someone help you. Finally a person left the store and almost got in their car until they heard your yelling and banging on the window. Your voice was muffled by the glass, so they started to hurry over closer to the car but suddenly stops walking and turns their head away. You follow their gaze and there stands you kidnapper.

He’s smiling at him carrying a few bags, you can’t catch what he’s saying but he seems to be explaining an excuse. You must have misjudged the time, there’s no working clocks or watches in the car so between you loosing track of time and him being a fast shopper, he’s caught you out. And you’ve never felt so sick as the blood drained from your face.

He walks closer to the truck and places the bags in the back before pulling the tarp over the bed, they continue talking but the person doesn’t seem convinced by whatever words he’s muttering. Hope still lingers but fear and regret is quickly taking over, making you shake and nauseous.

“Look it’s nice to meet you but we really need to get home” your kidnapper smilies while he opens the door, it’s so fake it makes you cringe, he’s never sounded to polite or looked so friendly. You want to shout out for help but the door shuts -and before you can process what’s happening you hear a click and a pocket knife is pressed to your thigh.

“Smile and wave at him before we leave or i slice these pretty thighs open” he growls through his teeth, using the other hand to turn on the engine and put the truck in gear. You feel the knife dig into your thigh harder “go on then, look happy -or I stop this car, kill your little saviour and take the back to the farm and give the dogs a little treat, the bloods on your hands honey” the knife drags an inch...he’s loosing his patience.

You’re out witted and out muscled. You’re sure that you and that innocent person will be dead within the hour if you didn’t give him what he wanted. You give a weak little wave and forced tight lipped smile, they seem reassured by the gesture and hesitantly walks back to their car after your kidnapper gave them another little wave. A fair well. There goes your saviour. “Good choice” he’s fuming still but withdraws the knife and races out of town back on the country roads.

A few drops of blood trickles off your thigh and onto the seat, and you begin to feel the sting after a few minutes of shock. It’s deathly silent, you see his hands grip the steering wheel turning his fingertips white and palms make the leather creak when he readjusts his tight grip.

He wasn’t one to be quiet when he’s angry, he’s usually very verbal when he’s angry and quiet when he’s content. You spent so many weeks studying his behaviour and facial expressions -to predict him -and now you’re as confused and afraid as the first time you met him. You’d never seen him act like this.

You didn’t dare speak first, instead you watched the town disappear from the corner of your eye as you stared at the footwell like a guilty dog. You didn’t dare move a muscle keeping rigidly still, gripping the leather seat beneath you.

He dragged a hand down his face, before letting go of a frustrated sigh. He was struggling to keep focused on the now bumpy country roads, he felt his burning anger in every inch of his body. “You had to go ruin all that progress, i was foolish for believing you knew your place? hu?” He spoke low, you could hear the snarl and imagined his crazed eyes. You still couldn’t lift your sorrowful gaze from the footwell, so you couldn’t confirm that.

“ANSWER ME YOU BRAT!” You flinched and your heart felt like it stopped for a moment before starting again at a much faster rate “ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?! IT FUCKING SEEMS LIKE IT” you knew what he meant, he’s a slave to his temper and there’s a possibility you could fall victim to it -no matter how many times you try console yourself that he’s held himself back from harming you physically many times before.

“-I’m sorry” was all you could choke out, your not sure anything you say would calm him down -it would likely make his temper worse. He went quiet once again, acknowledging the apology with a slight nod and a heavy huff. He tried to contain himself during the rest of the ride back, but the tension was thick and his anger still yet to die down even a bit. His hands still heavy on the wheel, the hour journey was cut almost in half with how he was speeding, and occasionally he’d shoot degrading comments.

He needed to get home, he needed space and time to process what you’d done. He’s utterly fuming with rage but not hate, that’s what was saving you from him pulling over the car and violently ‘correcting’ you right there, he had to remind himself that he’d regret hurting you, that he still loves you.

...

The car was haphazardly parked in the dirt drive next to the house and he, without a word, left the car and slammed the door. A few dogs came over to investigate and greet their owners but it seemed even the dogs could sense the tension and kept their distance and stopped wagging their tails. They were there to witness him storm around the front of the car and swing your door open.

“Get out” his tone threatening as he glared down at you, you struggled to unbuckle your belt, your fingers shaking. You stumbled out the car when your legs failed you, they felt like jelly. He slammed the door before taking your wrist firmly in his hand before pulling you behind him, he’s walking so such pace and intent -paired with your jelly like legs- that you stumbled a few more times.

You caught on pretty quick that it was the shed that you both were headed to. “I’d asked one thing of you, well you’ve really fucked yourself over now darlin’” dread clouded your rational thinking, your steps faltered and in instinctively tried pulling your arm away as you pleaded with him.

He didn’t even glance back at you, instead replied with a harsh pull on your wrist -he continued storming towards the shed. He ignored his as he unlocked the chains and pulled the wooden latch, he gave no sympathy as he pushed you into the shed, then showed no hesitance as he shut the door.

“You better get used to this shed, I’ll leave you in there forever if that what it takes to teach you” you could hear his temper unraveling, uncontrollable hate dripping from his words. The locks all slid into place and he left. Leaving you in the dark, sitting on a generous layer of hay, in tears and regret.

Light only source of comfort was the dim light of the evening creeping through the wood cracks and the occasional dog coming over shoving their wet nose against the door, sniffing for you, wondering why you’re in there. But even that faded as the day went on, the light disappeared with the sun and most the dogs sleeping on the covered porch and barn or guarding the livestock. One or two slept outside the shed it it was little comfort when you couldn’t see, hear or feel them.

Instead the shed turned pitch black you could have sworn your eyes were closed, the darkness brought bitter cold and goosebumps. The bugs in the hay crawled around sometimes tickling your leg, you’d grown used to bug having been on the farm for a while but this brought great discomfort due to the fact you could no longer see where or what was crawling around.

You kept reminding yourself that any minute now he’d be back, that how it went the other times you found yourself here. He’d leave you in the shed for a few hours then return usually before midnight to give you a calm ultimatum, he’d still be angry but willing to work through it with you.

Hope began to fade as what felt like hours passed, your toes and fingers became numb so you pushed them into the bug infested hay for some warmth to stop the burning cold. Eyelids grew heavy from exhaustion and burned from the crying. You’re sure you’ve never been left in here for this long but held onto hope that it was just bad time perception from the exhaustion. You went from preparing yourself for when he returned to desperately hoping your kidnapper would return.

All hope left after you’d blinked awake from a uncomfortable short nap to find yourself still in the shed. You pressed you’re face against the shed and peered through the crack to see the sky turn from black to a dark blue. It was almost dawn, you’d entered at dusk and been left here all night. Legs stung from bug bites, fingers and toes ached from the cold, everything itched from the cold, eyes and ears ached from the dark and deafening silence.

...

He’d left you in the shed without looking back and stormed into the house, he’d allowed his anger to boil over now you were out of grasp. The door slammed shut as he dropped his keys on the small table in the entry way, only to then letting his intrusive anger win and swipe everything off the table after seeing some of your items left there. Your items -one being a beloved pan of paint you’d left there after coming inside after painting the landscapes outside, his keys and a decorative pot now lay on the floor, he stepped over most while some others crunched under his heavy boots.

He stormed into the living room and shrugged off his jacket leaving it on the floor, he lit a cigarette and paced the room. For most of the evening he paced, ranted-shouted, smoked and shoved items that reminded him of you onto the floor or out of view. He even put a few fist holes in the walls and considered taking his hunting gun out to blow of some steam but decided it’s not best to hold a gun when he’s angry and around you.

He settled down in the night on the sofa with the tv muttering in the background as he stared into nothingness, taking a drag from one of many cigarettes. Finally his temper under control, finally he could think clearly... for the most part. How stupid he feels for trusting you, obviously you need more structure and punishment,

Much like you he didn’t sleep much, at some point in early ams he left the house back to the truck to bring in the shopping having nothing better to do. He was forced to walk through the house that he’d wrecked, there was one of your favourite painting pallets cracked on the floor, the vase of flowers you picked dumped out in the sink and some of his own stuff that he’d dumped or kicked in odd places while he paced.

He didn’t feel bad about breaking what little marks, through decor and personal items, you’d left in his house during the few months you’d been here, but rather disappointed in himself that he let his anger blind him.

That night was odd for him, it’s been a while since he was completely alone at night. And while his past self loved being isolated, he realised that he changed because of you. He found the quiet unsettling, and had to self-sooth and remind himself that you were just outside, that you weren’t some dream or temporary part of his life.

By the time morning came most anger had cleared, his jaw still felt tense and so with his furrowed brows and stiff posture. But as much as he hate to admit it at the risk of sounding dependant, being separated for the night and the thought of you not being around had forced him into forgiving you. He no longer kept you in the shed out of anger and inability to look at you without wanting to cause hurt, but now it was to teach you a lesson, so maybe in the future he won’t have to do it again... so he won’t loose you.

He spent the morning cleaning the mess, putting aside your cracked pan of paint to fix later when you’ve earned it back and dumping out the cigarette tray -after being reminded of how many he went through he made a mental note to lay off them for a few days to make up for it.

He let the whole day pass, now and then staring out a window at the shed tossing around the idea of letting you out. Be deciding he wasn’t ready, the last thing he wants is to open the door and re-ignite his anger. By the evening he put aside his grudge and chose not to let you bare another night in the cold. (But really he can’t bare another night alone)

...

You began to worry when the sun got low again, your stomach ached from hunger, you had a bat case of cotton mouth from thirst and stress, you’d also began biting your nails and your heart would pick up the pace randomly along with waves of dread and anxiety.

The bug bites itched and everything ached from staying in one place for over 24hours, you went as cold as last night but you knew the temperatures were going to drop once again and soon.

You hear the sound of his heavy boot crunch closer and closer. Your heart races again, your eyes wide as saucers and staying still as can so your ears can pick up any noise. You’d been begging for him to come back, hoping and crying but now he’s here you can’t help but dread it, wishing you had a minute more to compose yourself.

But beggars can’t be choosers, the chain rattles then the wooden latch is lifted and there infront of you is your kidnapper “you going to behave?” His voice is hoarse and seem tired by his tone, you can’t really see his face to confirm, he’s backlit and the light is hard on your eyes despite the sun being low. But you can imagine the bags and deep scowl.

You squint and desperately nod “I’m sorry -please” overwhelming feelings make you tear up again -your voice also sore and a stuffed nose from the crying messes up the delivery of the general apology/plea, but he seems to understand. “Do you understand what you’ve done? How you’ve put everything back to square one -no, into the negatives, you’re going to have to earn everything back because of one idiotic decision, understand?” He stands tense in the doorway looking down on you, so very belittling. He offers no sign of sympathy for your tears, bruises or fear.

But anything to get out of here “I’m sorry, I’ll be better, please I promise... please” he didn’t reply but just looked over you before scooping you up and taking you back to the house. As much as he frightened you and he was scarily quiet, you found comfort in his arms.

“Actions have consequences, when I need to go into town you’ll be locked in the shed, you can’t be trusted to control basic urges so I simply won’t give you the opportunity to fuck up” he begins as he enters the house, your gut twists at the thought of being locked in the shed again. “Please don’t, I’m sorry I don’t wa-“ he stops walking and your pleads are cut off

“I don’t care what you fucking want” his voice began to rise but he catches himself and huffs “you made your choice now live with it” he says with more control, he’s to exhausted to argue. He makes his way into the bathroom and sets you down on a counter as he runs a bath.

He beckons you to strip and get in the bath, you do just that and the hot water burns against your cold limbs, he sat down beside the tub and grabbed your face not gently but no where near as hard as he could “I would have killed that saviour of yours then make you live in that shed till your nothing but a husk of a person, is that what you want?” Your eyes widened and shook your head, when your words caught in your throat.

“I thought not” he lets go and you quickly avert your eyes, like making eye contact with a wolf, it’s certain doom. “This is merciful, you will be in the shed uncomfortable now and then, and no leaving the farm. I’m angry, disappointed and won’t be giving everything to you on a golden platter anymore but you can earn back trust, we can get back to where we were”

You sit uncomfortably, and you want to laugh at the ‘merciful’ statement. “You won’t make such a silly mistake again. You’ll listen to me from now on, won’t ya darling? You don’t want to get yourself or anyone else hurt do ya?” His hand that rested on your shoulder now unnervingly grips it but losses when you reply in favour for him.

He lays off the threats and fear mongering for the rest of the night. Once tense and quiet as he tried to control his anger issues he now is calmly quiet. He lets you eat before putting you to bed, he’s unusually close throughout the night, whereas he usually keeps his own space.

One arm lays over you and every time you shuffle he does too, waking up a bit and making sure your still there, not causing trouble. Just like how he acted when you first were kidnapped, it’s back to the start, no dignity, and a shit ton of emotional manipulation.

[vaguesxrrow]

Platonic monty x witch reader where the reader would frequently visit esther with witchy duties and would always bring crow monty trinkets so when human monty came around he just starts fanboying seeing reader but they're confused about it so he just tries to act cool talking ab hearing good things about them from his "ghost friend" thank u <3

(p.s this was actually a dream I had and I think it's cute😭😭😭)

I AM SOOO SORRY THIS TOOK OVER A MONTH LIKE ACTUALLY 😭😭😭🙏

monty & witch!reader

a/n: yayy cheers for my first monty fic

wc: 1408

tags: gender neutral reader, witch reader, platonic monty & reader

"hi, esther!" you called as you opened the door to her house, lugging behind you a rucksack filled with... well, the contents of your bag were probably best left unsaid. "hi, monty!" you said as you caught sight of the crow in his cage. "oh, it's been so long. missed you, buddy."

you usually came around to esther's twice a month for your witchy duties. 'duties' meaning exchanging ingredients, and the occasional (frequent) gossip of other witches in the magic community. really, though, your favourite part of your visits were visiting monty.

the crow chirped at you in greeting. you grinned, retrieving from your pocket two trinkets. first, you handed him the necklace, which you had found when you were doing some spring cleaning. the gem on it was almost black, but blue enough that you thought it would pop against monty's feathers. and you were right - as you handed it to him, he deftly swung it up as if to put it on, but wasn't quite successful and instead it landed on his head. you laughed, unlocking the door of the cage to adjust it for him. he cawed and puffed up his chest, clearly pleased with the new gift.

next, you handed him a shiny pebble. this, you only just found on your journey here. you had parked at the beach, intending to collect some green seaglass for a spell, when you found a rock gleaming so brightly it could have been a crystal. it held no magical properties as far as you were concerned, but you knew monty had to have it.

monty took that, too, setting it down on a cushion in the corner of his enclosure. then, he flew out the open door to perch on your shoulder, nipping your hair affectionately.

"are you planning on stealing my monty, [name]?" esther teased, appearing from the kitchen.

"you know what? maybe i will," you mused as you stroked monty's feathers.

esther barked out a laugh that was equal parts disbelieving and threatening. "sure, honey. now let's talk business."

you left the place two elemental teeth and three vials of blood richer, and with a promise to visit again soon.

⌦ --

'soon' ended up being a whole month and a half later, having missed your second visit last month. you had an extra bounce in your step as you strolled up to esther's front porch, yet still taking care not to jostle your bag full of potions in glass jars.

before you could open the door, it swung open, revealing a boy who seemed to be about your age.

your first thought was, did esther have children?

after ruling out the first question with a no way in hell, your second thought was, did esther kidnap a teenager?

"uh.. hi," you said awkwardly. "is esther home?"

"not at the moment! she went to the store, but we were expecting you, so she shouldn't be much longer," he told you. "but, uh, come in, please!"

he held the door open for you as you walked inside. you set your bag down on the table. "how'd you end up living with esther?" you questioned. you weren't judging (mostly), just surprised that esther would ever live with another human, especially a teenager. she seemed to barely tolerate you. "and what's your name?"

"well, esther calls me 'handsome' most of the time." he rolled his eyes. "really annoying habit, but i let her do it, cause you know her!"

nice evasion, you thought to yourself, noting that mystery boy had deigned to actually answer any of your questions. he was getting more interesting by the second.

you sat down on a stool at the kitchen table. "well, nice to meet you. i'm-"

"[name]!" he blurted. "i know."

you paused in surprise. "and how do you know that, exactly?"

he froze for a millisecond, before launching into another long-winded explanation. "well, you're actually pretty famous, in case you didn't know! i heard about you from this, uh, cool ghost friend of mine. yeah, they're like, super cool, and if they think you're cool then you must be, like, even cooler."

you gave him a once-over, still confused. he noticed you staring and self-consciously tugged at a chain around his neck, tucking the necklace into his shirt. weird.

before you could interrogate him more, the front door audibly swung open, creaking on its hinges. esther's voice sing-songed from the entrance as she complained about the cashier at the supermarket, vaguely plottint his demise.

"where are you, m- oh!" she paused as she caught sight of you. "[name]!" her tone was cheerful, but you weren't sure if she was exactly happy to see you. then again, you never were.

"hi, esther," you greeted back. "just came to drop off the potions." you gave your bag a jostle, and the glass jars inside clinked against each other noisily.

she half-grinned, half-grimaced at you. "thank you, dear. you can be on your way now." she waved you away, undoubtedly using her magic, as you felt an invisible force tug you towards the front door.

"uh, my bag-" you began.

"i'll return it!" mystery boy piped up. "um, meet me at the park tomorrow at noon? we can be friends!"

"sure!" you called, having to raise your voice as your body moves further and further away. "um, see you then!"

it wasn't until you arrived at the sole motel in port townsend that you realised you'd never gotten the name of your to-be friend.

⌦ --

you met mystery boy on the bench at the park, as you had arranged yesterday. you were determined to get his name this time; if you were going to be friends, then you couldn't call him mystery boy forever. he already knew your name after all.

"[name]!"

you turned around to find him approaching, two paper coffee cups in his hands, along with your bag, as promised. smiling, you waved at him.

"hi. wow," he said. he handed you back your bag, and one of the cups. "this is for you. i wasn't sure what kind of coffee you like, so i just chose the special, cause y'know, from what i heard from my ghost friend, you seem like the kind of laid back person who can just do whatever, which i admire."

amused, and slightly puzzled, you chuckled. "thank you?" you took a sip of the drink he offered, nodding in approval to let him know it was good. "i didn't think i had that high of a reputation. i mean, you seem to know a lot about me, but i don't even know your name."

he fiddled with the chain around his neck again, drawing your attention to the piece of jewelry. today, it wasn't concealed under his shirt. you squinted. it was a metal chain, with a gem that was a dark sapphire blue. you could recognise it anywhere.

"is that... the necklace i gave esther's crow?" you blurted.

he froze.

your eyes widened. "wait..." you scanned him, and the more you scrutinised his features the more oddly familiar they looked. "monty?"

"uhh, about that..."

"oh my god." you stood up in shock. "did esther turn you into a crow? i didn't think she'd do something like that, transforming humans.. if she's been keeping you with her all this time-"

"what? no!" he shook his head. "she recently turned me human."

your rant ended abruptly. "oh."

you were a bit confused about that, too. how? when? why? but you supposed you might as well enjoy it for what it was: finally being able to talk to your favourite crow-boy.

"but thanks for looking out for me." he - monty (monty!) smiled.

"it's no problem," you responded, slightly embarrassed at your outburst. "i mean, you're my friend. so like, any time." you really were touched. being a witch didn't give much time for socialising, and even within the magic community, relationships were often kept professional. talking to monty, even when he couldn't respond, was nice for you.

"we're friends?" he asked, eyes sparkling hopefully.

"yeah, duh," you said. "i didn't give you all those trinkets for nothing. i'm glad to see you kept some of them, though." you motioned to the necklace.

"of course i did. guess i'm kind of wired to like shiny things. ex-crow and all."

"makes sense." you shrugged. "how'd you end up becoming human, anyway?"

he huffed, grinning. "oh, boy, it's a long story…”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

---

"Make It Hurt."

---

The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy. 

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent. 

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry. 

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her. 

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment. 

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea. 

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?” 

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.” 

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-” 

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.” 

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.” 

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order. 

She practically drags you back to the bedroom. 

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.” 

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her. 

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours. 

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.” 

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better. 

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.” 

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead. 

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.” 

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips. 

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.” 

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on. 

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally. 

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face. 

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.”  You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing. 

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well. 

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees. 

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt. 

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom. 

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.” 

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are. 

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-” 

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife. 

You feel it. 

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close. 

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself. 

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts. 

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor. 

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.” 

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her. 

[sequinsmile-x]

Better

Ordinary.

The way her mother says it makes it sound like poison, like something that was infiltrating her life and tearing it apart from the inside out. An awful, ugly thing instead of the beautiful thing that tied her life together like the finest gold thread.

-x-

Hi friends,

If you haven't seen it, I've been getting more anon hate than usual recently, almost entirely around the fact pregnancy/Emily having a family with Aaron is a common them in my fics and how they hate that I write about it. Instead of just...seeing the tags and moving on they've been sending me anons criticising me for it. This culminated in me getting a message yesterday that sent me into orbit saying I was making Emily 'mediocre' by making her a mother like other 'mediocre' women.

(you can read the anon here if you haven't and want to it is WILD)

Now, whatever your feelings are about fanfic or characterisation of Emily, calling someone mediocre for their choices, implying that wanting whatever they want is bad, is ridiculous behaviour.

I've had a lot of feelings about it all day, and ending up writing this to get it out because that is how I process things.

As always, let me know what you think.

-x-

Warnings: Lots and lots of mommy issues

Words: 3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

From the moment her mother had suggested it, Emily had wanted to get out of going to lunch. Elizabeth insisted that she came over to the event she was hosting with some of her old friends, claiming the other women hadn’t seen Emily in years and that they wanted to catch up. She’d struggled to come up with a good reason to get out of it, even praying for a case that meant she’d be out of stage, something Aaron had raised an eyebrow at.

“You’re praying someone has killed enough people that the team needs to get involved?” 

She’d rolled her eyes at him and huffed, all too aware that he was right, and she’d kissed his cheek as she left the house just before midday, her gaze lingering on him and the kids as they settled down to play their favourite game. 

Lunch was, overall, boring. It was a reminder of a life she’d left behind, the one she’d been born into where every word was carefully chosen yet most the time people said absolutely nothing at all. Their words meaningless, full of fluff and inflexions that she hated. False interest in each other's lives as they desperately waited for someone to ask about them. 

She barely says anything, slowly eating her salad and humming intermittently so it seems like she’s listening, until one of her mother’s friends, Carol, gets her attention. 

“So, what are you up to these days, Emily? Your Mother says you’re still working for the FBI?” 

Emily nods, “Yeah, I work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit, the BAU. My husband used to as well but he retired when our daughter was born three years ago.” 

It had been Aaron’s decision, a solution he’d come up with when they found out she was pregnant with Hazel. He’d been keen to do it, unmoveable in his insistence, his eyes bright and almost overflowing with desperation, as if this was his second chance to make the right decision for his family. She’d agreed, after some back and forth, a voice in the back of her head telling her she’d be a bad mom if she went back to work when she didn’t strictly need to, something Aaron and her friends had slowly talked her out of over the long nine months of her pregnancy. 

Leaving the FBI herself was something she considered again when she had Oliver only 8 months ago, but once again she’d stayed. Happy with the balance she’d created, the life she’d built around herself that let her be Agent Prentiss, a member of one of the most well respected teams in the FBI, and Emily, a wife and mother. 

“Oh yes,” Carol says, picking up her cup of tea, “You have children.”

“Three,” Emily says, her back straightening at something she picks up in the other woman’s tone, a little too close to judgment for her liking, “Jack, Hazel and Oliver.” 

“Lovely names,” Carol says, “Although I must say I was surprised when Elizabeth told us you’d settled down and had children, it wasn’t that long ago it looked like you’d be following in her footsteps and trailblazing yourself a career.” 

Emily frowns, her teeth clenched as she takes a second to calm herself down, “I do still have a career, I just happen to have children too.” 

“Yes well,” Carol says, waving her hand, “You know what they say - a jack of all trades, a master of none.” 

She scoffs, looking to her mother for support, immediately wondering why she thought she’d find it when Elizabeth avoids eye contact with her, a fake smile painted across her face as she stands up from the dining table, “I’ll go check on dessert.” 

Emily stays behind after the others leave, barely even attempting to be polite as she exchanges goodbyes with them. As soon as it’s just her and her mother she can’t help herself, the question escaping before she can ask herself if she would even get an answer she’d want. 

“Why didn’t you stand up for me when she was saying all those things?” She asks, her arms crossed over her chest as Elizabeth freezes and sighs. 

“I wasn’t going to cause a scene,” she says, standing up to walk over to the small bar cart in the living room, pouring herself a scotch, “And besides, she didn’t say anything rude.” 

Emily laughs, “She didn’t say anything rude? She basically said because I’m working and I’m a mom I’m not doing well at either of those things,” she scoffs and shakes her head, “She may as well have called me mediocre and be done with it.” There’s a pause, a flash of something across her mother’s face that she’s sure she wouldn’t have seen if she wasn’t so good at her job. For a moment, she wishes she wasn’t, that she didn’t feel the drop of her heart into her stomach as her arms fall to her sides, “Wait….do you agree with her?” 

Elizabeth stares at her for a second, as if weighing up her options, and she takes a sip of her drink, “Well, you did love to travel when you were younger, Emily. I always assumed you’d do a job that took you all over the world. It wasn’t until you started dating Aaron I ever thought you’d settle down and have an ordinary life.” 

Ordinary.

The way her mother says it makes it sound like poison, like something that was infiltrating her life and tearing it apart from the inside out. An awful, ugly thing instead of the beautiful thing that tied her life together like the finest gold thread. It was something she never thought she’d have. The house and the husband and the children. The cat that never used the cat flap they had installed, happy to curl up at the end of one of the kid's beds instead of ever venturing outside. The school drop-offs and the PTA meetings and the last-minute rush to the grocery store for ingredients for cooking class when Jack told them about it at the last possible second. It was normal, and ordinary and hers. And it was everything she had fought for. 

It was everything she had died for. 

Emily had let a lot slide over the last few years, let countless comments go about herself and sometimes even Aaron because Elizabeth loved her grandchildren. What she’d lacked in being a mother she made up for as a grandmother. She bought them gifts that they actually liked, she listened to them. On Hazel’s first birthday, she’d crawled into the playhouse they’d bought the little girl, acting so unlike herself that Emily had thought she was seeing things. She was grateful her children had someone else in their lives who loved them, so she put up with the fact her mother had never loved her like that. 

All of that disappears as Elizabeth’s words wash over her. A quiet, almost dull, confession that hangs in the air around them a bitter pill that erases any good nature Emily had for her mother. 

She chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, turning away to wipe angry tears from her cheeks, “I’ve got to ask, Mother,” she says, turning back to look at her, her hands thrown up in defeat, “Why did you even have me? If you think me having children is so…ordinary, why did you have a kid?” 

Elizabeth sighs, her hands on her hips, “Emily-”

“Was it because it was what was expected? You and Dad weren’t as careful as you should have been? What was it?” She demands, not sure she even wants the answer, the sadness and fury rolling in her gut in a way that makes nausea burn up her throat. The silence they fall into is suffocating. Thick and cloying as it settles in Emily’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. She looks down at the floor, her arms tight over her chest as she presses her lips together, desperately trying to hold herself together, “I have a good life.” 

“I never said you didn’t,” Elizabeth says, “I only said I’d thought you’d make different choices.”

“Do you mean better?” Emily asks, her glare unrelenting, and Elizabeth simply looks away, her silence the only answer Emily needs. 

It seems ridiculous. Absurd in a way that makes her laugh, because she can’t imagine how life could be better. She knows that if she’d made different choices, if she’d taken Clyde up on his offer of a job and a new life she would have enjoyed it. She would have been fulfilled and happy but it would have been different to what she had now. Another life she’d now never know, something she couldn’t compare to the life she did have because it didn’t exist and never had. She had no regrets, could never regret even for a second choosing this over anything else. It was her life. Her beautiful, ordinary, life. 

Anger and sadness and everything in between swell in her gut again, making her stomach roll as she clenches her fists at her sides. The burn of her short nails into her palm is familiar, and for a moment she’s 12 years old standing opposite her mother in her office, her nails digging into her palms as she’s told off for not acting as she should have, for getting grass stains on a skirt that cost more than most people made in a month. She shakes it off, an unsteady breath caught in her chest as she’s brought back to the present, to standing in a room just down the hall from her mother’s office over 30 years older and somehow just as silently crushed as she had been when she was a kid. 

It was a feeling she’d promised herself she’d never inflict on her own children. A mantra that had started years before she had them, when she was just a kid herself with her hand pressed into her lower belly as the medication she’d been given by the doctor started to work. She’d be better. She told herself again and again that one day, when it was right, she’d be a mother and she’d be better. It’s a promise she made Declan when he slept up against her on the nights when Ian wasn’t there, his fear of his father pressed against her neck as he asked her if he was in trouble again. She makes the same promise to Jack when she realises she’s stepped into a maternal role in his life, her relationship with him so tied up in her relationship with Aaron that it feels like it happens overnight. She’d be better. She says it again to Hazel just a few hours after she’s born, and again with Oliver when she holds him for the first time. She’d be better.

She was better. She knew that. Her children ran towards her, not away, when they were sad or hurt or sick. They sought her out, snuck into her embrace at any given moment, slipping under her arm as she sat on the couch and they should already have been in bed. Aaron often joked he could disappear and no one would notice, something she’d always quickly refute, the idea of him not being right by her side enough to make her shudder. 

“Better than what? A man who loves me the way Aaron does? Than my children?” Her voice cracks and she clenches her teeth to try to steady her lower lip, “For the first time my life is normal, Mom. I go to work, I come home. I spend my evenings helping my kids with homework and driving them to recitals. And then I share a glass of wine with my husband because I’m still breastfeeding Ollie and don’t want to risk a whole glass. Then we get into bed and do it all over again the next day. It’s so ordinary it makes me ache sometimes because it’s all I ever wanted when I was growing up,” she growls in frustration when tears slip onto her cheeks and she wipes them away immediately, “My life might be small to you, but to me it’s perfect and I am the happiest I have ever been,” she swallows thickly, pushing down the emotions she refuses to set free until she’s home. Until she’s with her husband - the only person she’d ever truly feel comfortable falling apart in front of. “I’m going home.”

“Emily, there’s no need to be so upset,” Elizabeth says as Emily turns away, an edge of panic in her voice she had only heard a handful of times, “We can talk about this.” 

“No,” she refuses, already turning and walking away, “We can’t. I’m going home.” 

She’s proud of herself for making it to the car before the tears come in earnest, burning hot with fury as they leave what feels like permanent tracks on her skin.

___ 

She can’t bring herself to get out of the car. 

She sits on the driveway, still buckled long after she’s switched off the engine, her hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel. Even though she’s staring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the porch that she loves, she doesn’t see the front door open and her husband wander outside. It’s only when he lightly raps on the window, making her jump and pulling her out of her trance, that she realises he’s there. She unlocks the door but makes no other effort to move. He pulls it open and crouches down, his face level with hers. 

“Where are the kids?” She asks, her voice tight even to her own ears, any chance she has of insisting she is fine dead and gone before she can even try. 

“Ollie is napping,” he says, waving the baby monitor he has held in his hand, “Good thing we get reception out here. And Jack is showing Hazel how to play MarioKart.” 

She nods, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as she tries to hold herself together, her eyes already burning with tears because of his proximity, “Good.” 

They lapse into silence and he watches her carefully, the tightness to her expression extreme even for an afternoon spent with her mother. He places his hand on her knee and squeezes, “I’m guessing because of your general demeanour, and the fact you’ve been sat out here for almost 20 minutes, that lunch went off without a hitch.”

She laughs. It’s wet and painful as it catches on her ribs, the force of it making tears splash down onto her cheeks and she nods, wiping them away, “Something like that.” 

“Want to talk about it?” He asks, always sure to give her the option, and she nods, “Okay, well let's go sit on the porch,” he says, reaching over her to unbuckle her belt, “I don’t think my knees could take crouching like this much longer.” 

She nods and lets him lead her out of the car, passing him the keys so he can lock it. They sit on the top step leading up to the porch, both of them looking out at the neighbourhood they loved, and he waits her out. Let her figure out what he was going to say, his shoulder pressed against hers as she tries to navigate the emotions swirling through her body, making her dizzy even though she was sitting down.

“She called me ordinary.” 

It’s so left of field, so out of nowhere, it takes him a second to react. His eyebrows furrowing as he turns to look at her, his gaze fixed on her side profile as she continues to look straight ahead, “What?” 

“Mother she…” she clears her throat, “Well one of her friends did first. Said she was surprised I’d settled down and had kids. After she left I made the stupid decision to ask Mom why she didn’t defend me,” she laughs mirthlessly at herself, “I don’t know what I was expecting,” she finally turns to look at him, her eyes briefly meeting his before she hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them, “Anyway, turns out she agreed. She thought I’d do more with my life than get married and have kids I guess.”

Angry doesn’t even come close to explaining how he feels. Fury that had once burned the walls of his childhood home, leaving the wallpaper singed and smoke damaged, burning in his lungs. He closes his eyes for a moment, takes in a deep breath, and pushes the anger away for now, knowing it’s not what she needs. 

“She’s wrong.” 

She looks up at him and smiles, shifting so her head is on his shoulder, “I know she’s wrong,” she says, curling her arms around one of his, “I love our life. I love that it’s as normal as it can be with everything we’ve been through. It’s almost extraordinary in how ordinary it is” she sniffs, turning her head to kiss him through his shirt, “If anything, I think I feel bad for her.” 

He frowns, resting his cheek on top of her head, letting her melt into his side, “Oh yeah?”

She hums, “I’m sad she can’t see the beauty in it,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him, “And that she probably never will.” 

He cups her cheek and leans in to kiss her, his forehead against hers as he pulls back, “That’s her loss,” he says, kissing her again, “I’m sorry, baby. It can’t be nice having your own mother say that.” 

She chuckles and shakes her head, swallowing thickly, “No. It isn’t,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “But I’ll do better than her. I’ll always think our kids are amazing no matter what they do with their lives,” her lips shake and her eyes close, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks that he wipes away immediately, “I’ll do better.” 

He’s heard her say it before. A whisper against Jack’s forehead after she’d read him a story until he fell asleep. A promise to a newborn Hazel and then Oliver a few years later. He wraps his arms around her, gathers her against his chest as she sinks into him, his lips against her hairline as he replies. 

“You already are, sweetheart,” he says, “You already are.” 

-x-

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[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ chop it off ✦.·:·.*

pairing: virgil van dijk x female reader

summary: in which you let your intrusive thoughts win and virgil is not so happy with it

author’s note: the reader is imagined to have type 4A hair. Got inspired by me cutting a bob on myself when i had to take out my braids and enjoying it a bit too much.

word count: 575

It was a known fact that Virgil loved his hair. Growing up, his mother had taught him how to take care and through the years, he had learned to do it himself.

But something he loved even more than his hair, was yours. He absolutely adored your long curly hair. Whenever you two were close, his hand would automatically be in your hair, twirling it around his finger and letting it go, watching the curl bounce back.

So when you shared your idea to cut your hair, your husband was totally against it.

“Nope” Virgil shook his head, going back to scrolling on his phone.

“But- nope nope NOPE” He cut you off looking up in your eyes with fake teary eyes. “D’you want to break my heart into million pieces ?”

You just rolled your eyes at his childish antics. Virgil could be so dramatic and be a literal man child. It aggravated you sometimes but that was also your favourite side of him.

You eventually gave up on cutting your hair, convinced by your partner’s acting skills. The idea was still on your mind, social media feeding you with constant hair makeover videos. The urge to take scissors got harder to fight everyday. An afternoon alone at home, Virgil at training, was enough for you to loose the bottle.

You sat in your bathroom in front of your mirror, scissors at your left, your iPad at your right, playing a tutorial. 

You ended up having enough of over thinking it and went to wet your hair in the shower before starting to cut. You made sure not to cut too short, a little under the shoulder, a bit afraid seeing all the length you had cut. 

You had just finished your product and the end result satisfied you. You hurried to clean the bathroom and prepare dinner before Virgil came back. Once done, you sat on the couch, excited to see your husband’s reaction. Half an hour had passed and you heard the sound of keys juggling. The door opened to a loud Virgil, announcing his arrival as if hundreds of people lived in the house.

“Where is my beautiful wife…..”

His voice had lowered as he tried to process what he had saw. You stood in front of him with a shy smile, waiting for his reaction. And you were served.

“Oh my god” He loudly dragged, his hands on his face. “Why wo- babe”

You laughed at his extra persona while going to give him a hug.

“I need a moment” He stepped back from you before you forced him into a hug.

As your bodies were close, you could feel his hand in your hair, pulling on a strand to check the new length.

“In all seriousness, love, you’re beautiful” He pulled a bit away to face you and admiring it.

You blushed a bit at his compliment, responding with a cheerful “thank you”.

You knew Virgil did not like the idea a lot but seeing he loves it just as much as you made your heart melt. You grabbed his face and kissed him repeatedly before finally letting him go.

“Come on, dinner’s ready” You grabbed his hand, leading him to the kitchen.

You two spent the rest of the night lazying around. It was the type of night you enjoyed the most. Just you and the one you loved, on the couch watching TV and enjoying each other’s presence.

like, repost and suggest if you want (hope you enjoyed it besties)

first fic for my man VVD

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[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 38

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

only the dead have seen the end of war by @kartoffxl [MCD]

Lance must have seen something in Keith’s face, because his expression crumpled in anguish. “You… You love me back.” He put his head in his hands. “Oh my god. You loved me. You love me. This—This is so fucked up.” “Lance, I—” “Tell me I’m wrong.” There were tears in his eyes. “Tell me we didn’t just waste all those years being cowards.” Keith clenched his fists at his sides, still reeling from the whiplash of what he had just heard earlier. This can’t be happening. “Say it!” Lance pressed. “Say you don’t love me.” Please, his eyes begged. Keith and Lance finally figure out that they’re absolutely, undeniably, embarrassingly in love with each other, just not exactly in the best of circumstances.

okay so. this is. technically. one of the meaner fics im reccing. HOWEVER. it is gaspingly unbelievably beautifully and painfully written. even the summary kills me -- say you dont love me. im begging you. im begging you to lie to me right now. as we lay dying im begging you to have mercy on me and let me believe i didnt have a chance for beauty with you. im begging you to let me die with one regret instead of millions. please. please dont let me die being loved by you. LIKE WHAT

2. Toast to Freedom by @icypantherwrites

Keith is used to more than his fair share of dark looks. What he’s not used to is seeing those looks directed at Lance for no reason that he can determine and it’s making something uneasy settle in his stomach and the heavy press of the mantle of leader weigh even heavier as he should be doing something about it but he doesn’t know what. But causing a scene will upset the alliance they need and so Keith chooses to wait it out, to address it after the feast. He should never have waited.

will never ever in my life get over to 'i drank your poison because no suffering would be worse than watching it on you' not ever. it is always so so everything. and NO ONE does it like icy panther

3. Disjointed Soul by @icypantherwrites

Lance falls victim to a Soul Leecher, a dark spirit that is drawn to disjointed souls to steal them for itself. The Paladins must go into Lance's very soul to save him, uncovering truths about themselves and Lance in the process. Time is of the essence before Lance is lost forever. Good thing they have such helpful, adorable soul guides.

"Hi there baby Lance," Hunk greeted. "Ohwah," Lance burbled back. "¡Ohwah!" "Ohwah?" Pidge repeated. "I think he's saying "hola,'" Hunk grinned. "You know, "hello" in Spanish. Hola, baby Lance." "¡Ohwah! ¡Ohwah!"

this is one of THEEEE original insecure lance fics fr like it was the BLUEPRINT. 2018 there wasnt a langst loving soul who hadnt read this at least twice. its not too long for my dears w shoddy attention spans but its long enough to have quite a bit of substance!! team as family with communication and lance at the centre of it. what more do u want

4. Sleep Well, My Son by @icypantherwrites

A tiny accident becomes literal when Lance is turned into a child with no recollection from his older self. Coran has hopes the effects will be relatively short-term, but in the meantime he has a scared child that needs both reassurance and care. And while Coran might not have had the chance to be a father… he feels like one now.

look i love a good de aged lance fic and obviously when i was making these bookmarks i was scrolling my way thru the tag. and this one is especially amazing bc it is coran centred! this is a coran fic! this is a fic about quiet grief in the life you never got to live and acceptance for the life you have now and love for the people life has brought you!! it is about coran finding family through people who so desperately need it!! it is everything!!

5. Amigos by @icypantherwrites

A dangerous mission becomes even moreso when Lance is turned into a child with no recollection of his older self in the middle of it. Keith has never been good with kids and that certainly isn’t going to change now. Somehow though he’s got to convince Lance — who doesn’t speak a word of English and is staring at Keith with too wide, too scared of eyes — to come with him, get them both out of the Galran base now crawling with sentries alive, and then, assuming they get that far, figure out how to change Lance back.

shut up about the repeated author shut up about the same trope shut up about the. okay. i am a simple creature. i am annoying. i like to sit on my little armchair and open my little phone and read the same thing a million times. there is a Way to read fic and that way is to click on and scroll through a tag until you find a fic you like then scroll through that author and then go back to the tag and rinse and repeat. besides this fic is amazing okay i love klance but we rarely get platonic klance and its GOOD okay

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!