#Jack and Lily against the World

[aseasonwithclarasblog]

Lily is a Doll

Hello everyone. This is second post of my Jack Series (still needs a good name). Lily is a small girl with big dreams and a bigger heart, so this is mostly just some fluff with her and Jack

Weeks 1-2 of Jack’s Captivity

tw: brief mention to Jack’s past in training, but no snippets from it or anything (if you guys wanna see that let me know) Enjoy!

Previous // ~ Jack Masterlist ~

~~~~~~~~~~

Her blond braided hair was bouncing around as she ran around her room with her toys. Flapping her arms around like crazy. And Jack found himself smiling.

His smile had broken in the first two months of training.

But he couldn’t help it. She was a little marshmallow of joy. And she was always laughing and always talking and always smiling. When she was alone, or with Jack that is. In front of her family though, her mother or sister, even her grandmother, she was quiet.

It puzzled him.

She had two personalities, and he didn’t understand how the little 7 year old couldn’t combine them into one.

“Jaaack… c’mere.” She waved him over as she sat in the middle of her bed. He nodded while standing and going over, his smile fading away at once, not because of her.

Because he wasn’t allowed to smile.

He looked down before she patted the bed and he sat beside her, holding out a couple of her toys before setting them down in front of her.

She glowed in excitement, making them all sit up in front of them, leaning against the pillows. He found himself smiling once again. Watching as she sang softly to herself.

Something about a dragon and prince. He wasn’t listening, just looking at her. She was happy.

After a while, she looked up at him, into his soft chocolatey brown eyes, suddenly making him go still while keeping eye contact.

Don’t look away. Don’t pull away.

“You don’t talk much. Do ya?” She pouted a bit.

He blinked. Caught off guard by the question before simply shaking his head.

“Why not?”

Why Or, in this case, why not. He hated these questions. It meant he had to talk, no simple nod or shake of his head would do.

“J-just don’t…” He trailed off, hoping that would be a sufficient answer for her.

“But whyyy?” She persisted, scrunching her face up in frustration.

He shrugged a little, using the motion as an excuse to think for a few extra seconds. She seemed like the type who wanted the truth, but he knew he couldn’t rightfully tell her the truth, she wouldn’t understand, and even if she could, he didn’t want her to.

She was so innocent in this mad mad world.

Lying was easy, it was keeping the lie a reality which was the hard part. So he settled for the in-between option. Half-lie. Half-truth.

“I d-don’t like my voice.” He mumbled.

She nodded a little, thankfully accepting the answer. After a bit, she giggled while giving him a doll, one she had affectionately named Miss Hanelle Vance. She had golden curls and unrealistically blue eyes.

All her dolls had first and last names, a couple had middle names too, but only the special ones. Some of the dolls were rich and some were poor. The rich ones got to wear the best and newest dresses, while the poor ones got the used dresses which were dirty or a little ripped.

She never had any human pets in her games. That was another thing Jack liked about her.

His favorite part about being with her was her windows. They were so much bigger than a normal bedroom window and she liked when they were open. It would leave sun patches on the ground and when it was open he could feel the cool breeze against his skin.

The air was so fresh and he got to look into the sun until his eyes hurt too much and he had to look away. Lily would get mad if she saw him looking at it.

“Stop it! Stop! You’ll go blind stop!” She’d pull on his arm until he looked away. “Don’t do that!” She pouted and glared at him all at once. It was the only time he ever saw the little kitten angry.

It helped his smile.

It hadn’t taken long for Lily to find him the best roles to play. She loved how Jack would make sounds for her stuffed animals, and so she asked him to quite frequently. It was easy for him to do, making soft noises like clicks or whistles. He liked it better than talking, and she was happy when he did the animal voices for her.

He had never refused to do anything for her. Though of course she never asked him to do anything besides play games with her. She had never asked him to do anything he would consider refusing.

She didn’t know what else could be done with him.

She didn’t know what he was made for.

He played with her for hours. At the end of the day, they were sitting at her little table as she had a tea party with fake food and drinks. He wished the food to be real. It had been a whole month since he first arrived there and he was itching to have more than a couple of meals once a week.

It wasn’t that bad though. Almost every night she would bring in tarts or candies from dinner, and she’d always share half of it with him. She liked the strawberry-flavored ones most. Even when she let him pick first, he always made sure she got the strawberry ones. She’d get the cutest little smile on her face and it would stay there until she was distracted by something else.

But she talked a lot about how she’d soon be going back to school, though she wasn’t all that upset about it. She’d talk about her old friends from school. It made him upset though.

It made him incredibly sad at the thought of losing his friend. She’d be gone half the day and then he’d be stuck with the rest of the family. Who he was easily learning to despise. Mostly Victoria. She knew he was made for pain, and she loved giving it to him.

But for now, he was content being with Lily. She was like a little doll herself with her perfect clothes and smile, which were so sweet and cute.

~~~~~~~~~~

Written on June 1st, 2021

Next // ~ Jack Masterlist ~

#Lily is a doll #Jack hates his voice #wru #bbu #whump #fluff #lots of fluff #comfort #lots of comfort #friendships #Jack and Lily against the World #past truama #tw past truama #references though #not that bad whump wise #my writing #whumpblr #whump drabble #Jack Series #whump community

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas. I love you."

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x GN!Reader (with background RookVil x GN!Reader)

Genre: Heavy Angst, proceed with caution

TW: Major character death, suicide, heavy drinking.

AN: Its my birthday! I dont know why, but i usually feel terrible on my birthday, so I gave you guys the option of choosing between a happy fic for today, or an angst. You chose angst, so here we are. Please exercise caution before, during and after you read. If you or someone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please get in touch with professionals. You are loved, and will be missed, so please take care of yourself. If at any point you feel like stopping reading, please do. Your mental health comes before anything else. I hope you enjoy... Merry Christmas to everyone!

Vil sat down on his couch, sinking into its warmth with his fifth glass of wine in hand. Once upon a time, he would have frowned upon doing something like this. He was a notorious lightweight, and despised the headache that accompanied him on the day after.

But now, the pleasant buzz that the alcohol created in his mind was a welcome distraction.

Vil's gaze fell on the TV remote. He reached for it and switched it on, it's artificial light casting on his face and lighting up the otherwise dark room.

"And in other news, acclaimed actor and director Vil Schoenheit announces his retirement from the entertainment industry at the fairly young age of 34. A public statement was released earlier this month by his agency, right after the release of his latest film, 'Eternity'. This news has come as a shock to many of the star's fans, but-"

Vil tuned out the TV as the newscaster spoke of how well his last movie was doing in theatres and how everyone wished him well in the future. Words blurred into sounds and the TV screen into colours as he took another sip of his wine, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back on the couch.

His phone vibrated inside his pocket. Removing it, Vil saw a message from Epel.

Merry Christmas. Hope you're having a good time. Mawmaw asked me to send you this pic, and told me to invite you to Harveston sometime for some apple pie.

Underneath it was a picture of Epel and his grandmother in their kitchen, both holding a plate of said apple pie in their hands.

Vil smiled, then decided to check his other messages. A voice message from Jack wishing him Merry Christmas, a whole paragraph of text courtsey of Rook, and many more messages from his coworkers and acquaintances. He replied to every one of them, answering each with a thoughtful message that somehow his alcohol-addled brain could type coherently.

As lilac eyes wandered over his chat log, they caught one last message. It was from his manager. Or, well, ex-manager.

Vil.

In all the years I have spent managing young actors, I have not seen one as talented and dedicated as you. Not many spend their time honing and perfecting their craft as you do. It is a shame to see you leaving the spotlight so soon, but I know this is something you have needed for quite some time.

Take this time to take care of yourself, Vil. (Name) would have wanted you to. Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

Vil stilled as he read the last few sentences. "(Name)...".

The moonlight painted a solemn scene as it fell on the lone man, coloring his blonde locks an enchanting silver as he picked up his wine glass. He gulped the drink in one go, the slightly bitter liquid burning his throat in a familiar manner as he placed the glass on the coffee table.

Vil smiled, then tried to stand. The five glasses of wine had begun showing their effect, and he had to lean against the armrest of the couch to stop the world from spinning in front of his eyes.

Slowly, he made his way to the master bedroom. Upon reaching, he walked over to the bed, forgoing his usual skincare routine in favour of tucking himself in.

Vil sat upright in bed, eyes trained on the lone flowerpot kept at the windowsill. The lilies stirred ever so slightly under the light breeze coming in through the open window, as though shivering under the weight of his gaze. Gaze filled with profound love, and sorrow, and resolve.

"(Name)..."

Vil's voice was not more than a whisper, yet that one word uttered from his lips seemed to fill the silence that shrouded the room. He took a shaky breath, hand closing around the bottle of sleeping pills he had on his bedside table.

The clock struck twelve from somewhere within the house, it's soft sound echoing throughout. Outside, Vil heard cheers coming from people who were spending Christmas with their loved ones.

He looked back at the red lilies, and smiled. A genuine, unpracticed smile that had not seen the light of day ever since the love of his life died.

"Merry Christmas (Name). I love you."

Rook was a hunter, through and through. He prided himself on his observation skills, on his judgments. Usually, he could see things coming from a mile away.

He did not see Vil's suicide from a mile away.

The blonde haired man was one of the first to be informed of it, and also the one to whom most of his possessions were bequeathed to.

Rook did not care much for most of the things Vil had left him. He had also left him with a hole in his heart, and a permanent pain in his soul. Yet, as he gazed at the flowerpot with the red tulips in it, and the matching one with white magnolias beside it, he could not blame Vil.

Calloused hands trembled as they caressed the petals of the flowers. It felt almost sacrilegious to touch, as if the pure flowers were taunting him for the blood that stained his hands.

Tears dropped down onto the silky petals, clinging to them like drops of fresh dew. Rook's hands slid down to touch the flowerpots, where the letters engraved spelled out the names of two people he thought of as the very epitome of beauty.

The lilies grew on the essence and memory of (Name) Schoenheit, and the magnolias welcomed the ashes of Vil Schoenheit.

Red lilies: Eternal love and passion

White magnolias: Nobility and Purity

Masterlist...

#ice writes #twisted wonderland #twst #vil x reader #twst vil x reader #twst vil #twst vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #gn!reader #merry twstmas event #tw suicide #tw sui implied #tw heavy drinking #tw drinking

[just-a-little-trans-chaos]

LGBTQ+ Songs

Okay! Here's 70~ queer songs, and I tried to group the songs together by what they are

Under the cut that is, as to not annoy anyone with how long this is

Some quick-ish notes:

For the aspec songs I just made my best guess since I really can't tell and didn't want to label them all as AroAce '^^

I'm using gay for MLM not just homosexual

If I got anything wrong please correct me, and if I missed any please tell me!

Alr! The songs!

Why didn't I kiss Her by Ratwyfe (Lesbian)

History Hates Lovers by Oublaire (Lesbian/Gay)

Boyfriend by Reinaeiry (Lesbian)

We fell in love in October by Girl in Red (Lesbian)

Jolene but it's gay by Reinaeiry (a lesbian cover of Jolene by Dolly Parton)

Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko (Lesbian)

Little Miss Perfect by Write Out Loud (Lesbian

I wanna be your Girlfriend by Girl in Red (Lesbian

Girls by Girl in Red (THE Lesbian song)

Jenny by Studio Killers (Lesbian)

Nancy Mulligan by Jasmine Clarke (a Lesbian cover of Edd Sheeran's Nancy Mulligan)

The Distance Between by Reinaeiry (Lesbian)

Here's to Coming Out by Chloe Ho (Lesbian?)

It's not a Phase by Jessie Paege & Lucy & La Mer (Lesbian/Bi?)

Butch 4 Butch by Ria Romeo (Lesbian, butch lesbian :P)

I found a Girl by the Vamps (Lesbian)

Sofia by Clario (Saphic)

A coming out song by Dodie (OG is bi, but there are covers for other sexualities/genders!)

Boy Bi by Mad Tsai (Bi man)

A very bisexual song by Amber Fornoles (Very Bisexual)

Girls kissing Girls by Ahil (Bisexual dispite the name!)

NEVERMIND by Maggie Brewer (Bisexual)

Bisexual Anthem by Domo Wilson (Bisexual, uh also having sex is mentioned repeatedly so CW?)

Bi Wife Energy by Cringe and the Lizards (Bi)

I don't wanna be in Love by Good Charlotte (Aro)

For Me by Dearlie (AroAce)

No Lover by Jetty Bones (Aro)

Three Words by Juze (Aro)

Never been in Love by Will Jay (Aro)

Driving Myself Home by Rose Betts (AroAce)

Version of Love by Will Jay (Aro)

I'm Good by The Mowgli's (AroAce)

Good Thing by Zedd (Aro)

Crush Culture by Conan Gray (AroAce)

Kissaphobic by Make Out Monday (Ace)

Love Love Love by Of Monsters and Men (Aro)

Despair by leo. (AroAce)

Don't Fall in Love by Danko Jones (Aro)

I think I wanna be Alone by mazie (AroAce)

Give by Jai Mohan (Graysexual)

All My Friends are Falling in Love by Jack Newsome (Aro)

Casual Sex by my Darkest Days (Aro)

Love is greed by Passion Pit (Aro/Ace?)

Please don't say you love me by Gabriella aplin (Aro)

Never want to fall in love with u by Nelward (Aro)

Soul mate by Lizzo (Aro)

How do you love? By the Regrettes (Aro)

Dry Spell by Jordy (Ace? Gay?)

Stacy's Brother by Mad Tsai (Gay)

Bring you Home by Ryan Nealon (Gay)

Ken&Barbie by Kate Gill (Gay)

Man to Man by Dorian Electra (Gay)

Flamboyant by Dorian Electra (Flamboyant guy, Gay?)

The Same Old Country Love Song by Brian Falduto (Gay)

Adam & Steve by Dorian Electra

What a Beautiful Day by Brett Every (Gay)

True Trans Soul Rebel by Against Me! (Trans)

Build a Bear by Maggie Brewer (Transmasc)

This is Home by Cavetown (Transmasc & AroAce)

The Village by Wrabel (Transmasc)

Daughter by Ryan Cassata (Transmasc, Ryan suggests you don't listen to it if you have bad dysphoria)

MASCULINITY by Lucky Love (Transmasc/Gay)

Rebel Rebel by David Bowie (Genderqueer/fluid?)

Loki is Genderfluid by Song a Day (Genderfluid)

Gender Envy (Genderqueer)

IDK if I'm a boy (Trans?)

I/Me/Myself by Will Wood (Non-conforming man I think, but also could be seen Genderfluid/Trans exc)

I'm Coming Out by Diana Ross (Misc queer woman)

Fuck You by Lily Allen (Fuck you homophobes :3)

Everyone is Gay by A Great Big World (General queer, mostly focused on homosexuality)

Hating on Love by Dustin Bird (Gay/Lesbian/Queer)

#Just Chatting #Trans Chaos #LGBTQ+ #Queer #Gay #Lesbian #Bi #Bisexual #Aspec #Aro #Aromantic #Ace asexual #AroAce #Trans #Trans Masc #TransMasc #Trans Men #LGBT+ #LGBTQIA+ #LGBT #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #Songs #Music #LGBTQ Community #Queer Community

[matt0044]

“y’all couldn’t even handle the moral complexities of steven universe”

You've probably seen this type of post make the rounds every so often and either agree or disagree with it. I'm of the former camp and have often pondered some of the reasons why this thesis holds water.

To start, Social Media has really changed the game in Fandom for better and for worst (the latter being too often the case). Namely in how on platforms like Tumblr and Twitter (Musk can shove that X up his ugly a-), we get fun fandom nonsense along with a 24/7 news cycle of whatever's trending.

Which means we have constant intrusion on our timelines about how the geopolitics across the globe are pretty crap. Many of us retweet things we feel may be relevant, especially when misinformation has become a vertiable economy we need to be aware of.

We also have people raising awareness of social issues that our world still endures such as sexism, racism, every kind of bigotry you can imagine. Ironically, this brings about those railling against the notion that they either still exist or need to be worked on at all in a display of said prejudices. #Gamergate didn't just spring from the ether.

Many celebrities of various levels of fame were turning out to be… pretty bad. Social Media would empower them to speak their minds and not all of it was just “their beliefs.”

To keep this focused of when Steven Universe was coming out, the end of the Obama era and Trump planting his stanky ass in the Oval Office, this was when people’s trust in each other was at an all time low.

Hell, I remember when Trump’s campaign and Brexit got many bigots to feel like they can be prejudiced without consequences. Whole reason he made it to the final two at all.

As such, how else would Uncle Andy Demayo come across as anything other than a MAGA hat wearer? How else would the Diamond Authority come off as but the powers that be who “need to be stopped?”

Steven Universe came at a time when fandom was intermingling with the real life. Fans were starting to feel insulted whenever something like fighting the government or interacting with problematic family member wasn’t answered with “Burn it to the ground!”

Notions of compassion to those who are troubled or maybe in need of a shoulder to lean on were disinterpretted in the least favorable light possible. How could SU even humor the notion that narrowminded family members or even people of power could be redeemed let alone humanized?

Essentially, it didn’t speak to the emotional climate at the time for millennials or Gen Z. It’s why we’ve celebrated Big Jack Horner and those who harken back to classic Disney villains. The kind you cheer on to be taken down a peg.

Lily Orchard didn’t start the fire. The flames were already being fanned.

#steven universe #su #steven quartz universe #steven quartz demayo #the crystal gems #pearl su #amethyst #garnet #peridot #bismuth #lapis lazuli #jasper #the diamond authority #the diamonds #white diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #pink diamond #rose quartz #greg universe #fandom #discourse #fandom discourse #fandom discussion #su fandom #animation community #Cartoons #cartoon network #politics #political discourse

[place-called-space]

send me an angel [part i of 'sweetest poison']

word count: 2,601

Before they start their search for office space, Matt insists that they stop at Clinton Church—to pray for luck, of course. He doesn't know how Foggy convinced him to pray for a wife, or why he listened, but the next thing Matt knows, the smell of incense and old wood is overtaken by lilies and nectar, and you walk in.

So many things had changed after Matt lost his sight, but the sickeningly sweet scent of incense remained as stifling as ever. After years of being unable to filter through the cacophony of noise surrounding him, settling into the creaky wooden pews of the church with a deep sigh was a welcome reprieve, the incense dulling his senses just enough to stave off the migraines he so constantly found himself the victim of. 

Today was no different except for the presence of Foggy at his side. 

"So, how exactly do you pray?" he asks after several minutes of comfortable silence. "You ask for love and success in exchange for the sacrifice of a virgin?"

"We quite like virgins, actually," Matt corrects without skipping a beat. "They're a rare commodity these days, so we try not to sacrifice them anymore."

"Oh, I see. You just take them for yourselves," cajoled Foggy, nudging him with his foot. The wood of the pew creaked as he leaned back, turning slightly to leverage his elbow over the back. "You Catholics are greedy bastards, eh?"

"And I'm the only one that'll ever admit to it," Matt lamented with a sigh. He poked Foggy gently with his elbow. "Can I go back to praying now?"

"Right," Foggy said immediately, shuffling further away. "Take your time."

Matt shook his head, chuckling quietly before dipping again, fingers fiddling with the rosary held in his hands. He was almost done, with only one more decade to go. Sure, that may be another ten Hail Marys and a Glory Be, but despite how often he'd doze while praying as a kid, the repetition had become therapeutic over the years. Combined with the incense, it was easy to be lulled into an almost hypnotic state of calm, aided by the smooth surface of the beads and the occasional popping of the candles-

"You should pray for a wife."

Matt let out a startled laugh, catching the attention of Mrs. Akers, an old widow who'd been ancient back when Jack Murdock's mom would drag him to mass every Sunday. She turned in her pew but said nothing before turning back to the front with a shake of her head, the movement almost fond. 

"A wife?" Matt asked Foggy, lowering his voice even though he was still chuckling. "I could ask for world peace, an end to poverty and starvation, or even money for our firm, and you're telling me to pray for a wife?"

"In my defense," Foggy said, the slide of cotton against skin betraying the fact that he'd raised his hands in surrender, "hundreds of thousands of people had to have asked for those other things, and all we hear are sob stories about how they were ignored!" He shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know about you, but I don't hear any complaints from the people who've asked for love."

Matt paused for a moment. "No," he said eventually, fiddling with his rosary. "I guess not.”

He shifted in his seat, wincing when his bruised ribs twinged uncomfortably and hiding the expression by bringing his left hand up to adjust his glasses. Foggy wasn't paying attention to him anyway, scraping at a scuff in the floor with the toe of his shoe. 

Years of ingrained loyalty to the church had taught him to be grateful for the small blessings and to never ask for anything more. And for years, Matt had obeyed, stomping on any blooming feelings of want or desire for success or affection. Even now, shrouding himself in black and baptizing himself in blood every night, he avoided asking for anything other than guidance for himself or aid for others, muscling through the pain he endured every night, a true soldier of God. 

Would it… be wrong of him to ask for something for himself, for once? He'd been taking justice into his own hands for some time now, stopping what the police couldn't out of the goodness of his heart, for the betterment of his community. Did he deserve the comfort a wife would provide, the love she’d shower him with?

Matt's heart is practically beating out of his chest as he shifts his grip on his rosary, running his thumb over the little man on the tiny cross as guilt begins to crawl up his throat like bile. What existence would he damn his wife to? A lonely existence with a husband who only joined her in bed a few hours before they were supposed to wake? A life of struggling to make rent when he devoted himself more to the justice he sought at night than the one found in court? A marriage of resigning herself to always being his second priority?

No. Nobody deserved an existence as miserable as that, even if it would make his own more bearable. No matter what he'd done, no matter what good he always strived for, Matthew Murdock would never deserve such a reprieve. 

…But surely, one prayer couldn’t hurt. 

“Are you there, Lord? It’s me again,” Matt started, speaking low enough that only Foggy could hear him. “I need someone to be my friend—”

“Wife!” Foggy hissed. “You have to be specific!”

Matt turned his head in Foggy’s direction, amused. “You don’t think I can be friends with my wife?”

“Of course you can,” Foggy acquiesced with a steely note in his voice, “but you’ve already got one best friend, and I’d hate to claim seniority and break up your marriage.”

That last part got a surprised chuckle out of Matt. “Noted,” he said solemnly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Maybe send me an angel. The nicest angel you have.”

He spent the next fifteen seconds trying his hardest to keep his face emotionless as Foggy’s head turned ever so slowly until the full brunt of his incredulous expression was focused solely on the man beside him. 

“You,” he started, drawing out the word in his disbelief, “did not just quote Lilo and Stitch.” 

“It’s called praying, Foggy.” Matt shook his head in mock disappointment. “I’d have thought you’d seen me do it enough times to recognize it.”  

Foggy heaved a sigh. “I have had enough of your smartassery,” he said, getting to his feet. “We should leave in a bit if you wanna meet the realtor on time. First impressions and all that.”

“Right,” Matt says distractedly, his attention pulled by the sound of footsteps entering from one of the hallways that branched off deeper into the church. If memory served, that hallway led to Father Lantom’s private office, but the footsteps leaving that hallway were far too light, far too quick to belong to the aging priest. No, this was someone else. 

Well, hello, you. 

Your skirt is long and flowy, made of linen and ideal for the warmer weather they've been getting lately. The hem flutters around your ankles when you walk, but as you pause before the candle-filled altar to light a votive, you raise one foot to scratch at your opposite calf, flashing a bit of soft, bare skin. 

Matt's fingers give an involuntary twitch. Tease. You like a little attention. That much is clear from the tight shirt you're wearing—form-fitting and the sleeves low enough to wrap around your biceps while leaving your shoulders bare. 

Your shoes are clean but well-worn. They smell of grass and soil, gum and sunflower seeds; you'd walked here, but only after taking a detour to soak up some sun in the park, clearly enjoying the weather. Central was too far to be feasible, so it was more likely you'd gone to DeWitt, where the grass was regularly maintained for the baseball season, hence the seeds and gum. 

Still, your childhood must've had some form of worship in it because you're wearing a cardigan concealing the exposed skin of your shoulders. The addition is meant to make the entire ensemble more modest, but the slight tinkling of your jewelry calls attention anyway. No loud bracelets that clashed against each other with every move you made, thank God—only a few sets of hoops and studs scattered throughout the cartilage of your ear to pair with the simple necklace you're wearing. 

Despite the understated embellishments, Matt sees right through the illusion—they're meant to bring attention to the long line of your throat, to the delicate bones of your clavicle, to the regal set of your shoulders. You want attention, but only the slightest bit. Your efforts to look effortless are not wasted—Foggy's heartbeat stutters when he finally sees you, admonishing words dying in his throat as he drinks the sight of you in, and for the first time in decades, Matt is envious of someone else's ability to simply observe. 

The feeling quickly dies, however, because no matter how hard he (or anyone else tries), Foggy's perception is limited to superficial observation, while Matt's is so much more than that.  

Matt can fully enjoy your scent, sweeter than the nectar of freshly bloomed flowers. He can bask in the taste of your skin, still sun-kissed and warm from the outside. He can relish in the sound of your blood pumping through your veins, spurred forward by your persevering heart. That closeness—that intimacy—was reserved for him...

...and him only. 

The thought sent a rush of pride, warped and wicked, through him, and Matt couldn't help the sharp smile that split his face. Despite being born of humor and sarcasm, his prayer had been answered. 

God had sent him an angel. 

He must've looked particularly devious because Foggy dropped his head into his hands with a groan. 

"She's hot, in case you were wondering," he whispered, resigned and conspiratorial at the same time. "Absolutely smoking. But I'm assuming you knew that already."

"I don't care about that, Foggy," Matt said distractedly, too busy listening to the brush of your hair against your cardigan—it smelled of lilies. "What's she doing?"

“Having a moment of silence, it looks like,” Foggy told him. “Which makes my staring at her even more creepy than before. Thanks, dude. Can we go now?”

“She smells so good,” Matt confessed in a hushed whisper, parting his lips to draw more of your scent onto his tongue. He was swaying slightly on his feet, and he grasped at the pew in front of him in a white-knuckled grip as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him—when had he stood up, anyway? “Are you sure we can’t stay a bit longer?”

Foggy startled a bit. “You can smell her from here?” he asked incredulously, the muscles in his forehead stretching as he raised a dubious eyebrow. When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy blew out a long-suffering sigh. There was the scratch of polyester on cotton as Foggy flicked his arm out, raising the hem of his sleeve enough to peer at the face of his watch. "Almost nine-thirty," he said. "We have to meet with the realtor at ten, so you have some time to try and get through the first half of your pickup lines."

And for the first time in years, Matt… hesitated. 

There was a restlessness inside his chest, pushing him to approach you and introduce himself, to flash a smile and hope the dimple Sister Maggie used to compliment so much ignited your curiosity and drew you in. From there, he could go straight into charming you, learning things about you that his senses couldn’t tell him. As the weeks passed, he could bring you to his favorite restaurants, hold your hand, kiss your cheek, taste the skin of your throat as he guided you to his bed, hear what your voice sounded like as you moaned his name-

Okay… maybe not. Maybe…

Maybe he wouldn’t say hello. Maybe he'd accidentally bump into you, have you make the first step in the connection he was already looking forward to fostering. It would undoubtedly be less conspicuous that way—much easier to explain away bumping into a woman you wanted to talk to if you were blind. An exchange like that could end one of two ways: the short, apologetic interaction which didn’t lead to anything substantial, or the extended, flirtatious conversation that might pique your interest and excite you enough into wanting more.  

And even if you chose the former, that didn’t mean he couldn’t introduce himself properly if he, by chance, came across you again, unattended and conveniently available.

And if he was right and the two of you were meant to meet… well, far be it from him to question God's plan. 

Mind made up, Matt sent a distracted smile in Foggy’s general direction. “Just… give me a few minutes, okay?”

Foggy heaved a great sigh, standing from the pew. “I’ll be loitering outside when you’re done. You better not make us late, Murdock!” 

Heart hammering in his chest, Matt felt around for the end of the pew, practically crawling out of the aisle in his haste. He took a moment to run a hand through his hair and straighten the creases in his jacket before stepping forward, tapping his cane as he walked. 

As he approached you, he could tell the exact moment you noticed him. The tapping of his cane announced his presence, and your hair shifted as your head turned to catch a glimpse of him. There was a small intake of breath as your eyes took him in, a slight tilt in your head betraying how you’d looked him up and down. Trying his best not to shrink under your scrutiny, Matt settled into the spot beside you, fingers searching for the candle the nuns kept lit for him at the bottom left. 

You watched him curiously, taking a half step to the side to give him more room. It seemed like you were watching him, silently preventing him from burning himself. And though he was tempted, just for a moment, to let his fingers get singed by a flame he’d strayed too close to, he didn’t, simply picking up the lit candle and lighting another. He set the candle back down, taking a deep breath before bowing his head in prayer. 

He probably looked nervous. He certainly felt nervous, a certain clamminess to his palms that hadn’t been there before. This close, it felt as though you were a magnet, drawing him in, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was swaying on his feet again, his body instinctively arching toward you without his express permission. Matt’s fingers twitched, aching to reach out and brush against your skin, but he tightened his grip on his cane, determined to at least give off the impression that he didn’t know you were there. 

Your heartbeat was slow and steady in his ears, your breath similar as you, too, ducked your head, your lips moving soundlessly to finish your prayer. 

It was like he wasn’t even there.

Again, Matt grew restless. He’d… he’d expected you to say something. An ‘excuse me,’ at least, not just move away silently as though you didn’t want to be perceived. Because Matt knew you. He knew by how you dressed that you liked a bit of attention, each small but elegant accessory bringing attention to you, accentuating your natural beauty. Every part of your outfit was perfectly tailored to draw attention but not keep it. It was as though you were intentionally keeping in the middle of the pack. No, this… this was done deliberately. 

Well, two could play at that game. 

Letting out a breath, Matt turned abruptly, swinging his cane wide and smacking you in the shin.

part ii: '(don't fear) the reaper' coming soon to a screen near you!

a/n: there it is! honestly, i've been so excited to finally push this out that i accidentally added an entirely new plot point so the next chapter will probably take a bit longer, my bad y'all. in the meantime, feel free to ask any questions about this fic or send any requests!

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #x reader #x reader fic #nmcu fic #nmcu daredevil #daredevil fic #marvel daredevil #no use of y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends <3

Hope you are all okay! As always, thank you so much for all the love on this fic - it means the world. I love this version of them so so much and it is incredible to me that they mean a lot to you too.

I have so much more planned for them and will carry on writing this fic as long as you are still enjoying it.

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily groans, the sound turning into a yawn as she rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder as they walk, the early morning sun too much for her tired eyes. 

He chuckles and turns his head to kiss her temple before he looks down at Lily, fast asleep and content in her stroller as he pushes it around the park, the little girl finally lulled to sleep after keeping her parents awake most of the night. 

“She’s fallen asleep,” he says, smiling when Emily groans again, her arms wrapped tightly around one of his as they carry on walking, both hesitant to stop in case it woke the baby up. 

“She is lucky she’s so fucking cute,” Emily says, reaching down and adjusting the blanket she’d placed over Lily when they arrived, covering the tiny foot that was exposed to the cool spring morning air, “She and Jack and are only ones who are allowed to keep me awake all night.” 

Aaron hums and raises his eyebrow at his wife, “You don’t seem to mind when I keep you up all night either.” 

She smiles at him and kisses his cheek, “I guess you’re allowed to keep me awake too,” she says, winking at him. Her smile fades slightly as she looks down at their daughter, “I hope she’s almost done with this round of teething, I hate seeing her so upset.” 

It had been a difficult few days. Lily not sleeping meant Aaron and Emily hadn’t slept very much either. It meant emotions were running high. It was almost impossible to settle Lily, which meant that Emily was on edge - all of her insecurities about her ability as a mother come to life as she was unable to settle her little girl. It was why Aaron had suggested they go for a walk in the first place. He knew his wife needed some fresh air and that it was likely Lily would fall asleep the moment they got her settled in the stroller. 

“I know, sweetheart. I do too,” he says softly, “But she’ll be okay.” 

She hums and looks down at her little girl, smiling at the sight of her fast asleep, her mouth hanging open slightly, “She looks like you when she sleeps.” 

He laughs, “Says the woman who routinely drools on me when she’s asleep.” 

She scoffs in mock outrage and narrows her eyes at him, “Oh you are so-”

“Emily?” 

She freezes, her eyes going wide as she looks up to see her mother standing in front of them, looking just as surprised to see them as they were to see her. She looked good, much better than she had when Emily had last seen her. She’d gained back a little weight and the bags under her eyes were gone, her skin not as dull as it had been. 

Aaron comes to a stop, his grip on the handle tightening as he looks at his mother-in-law, his protective instincts kicking in as he looks down at his daughter, glad to see she is still asleep. He feels Emily tense next to him, her fingers digging into his arm through his jacket as she tries to figure out what to do. 

Emily had only spoken to her mother a handful of times since they met for coffee five months ago. 

She was finding it hard. The work to try and fix the relationship that had already been broken so many times emotionally draining in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Every conversation felt like a patch job, as if she was trying to sew together threadbare edges that simply wouldn’t hold, always prone to give way and tear when up against something even as small as a passive-aggressive comment. Elizabeth had asked more than once if she could meet Lily and Emily always said no. She didn’t feel ready, didn’t want to open her little girl up to heartache even though she was too young to understand. Emily wanted her mother to prove herself, to reassure her that she wasn’t going to slip again, that her priorities were finally what they should be. 

“Mother,” she chokes out, clearing her throat as she tightens her hold on Aaron’s arm. She flicks her gaze down to Lily, still mercifully fast asleep, and she’s grateful that they haven’t yet switched the stroller around to allow Lily to face forward. The thought of her mother accidentally meeting Lily, for yet another thing being taken out of her control, is enough to make her tense, her shoulders tight as she heaves in a deep breath, “What are you doing here?” 

Elizabeth’s eyes are fixed on the back of the stroller, as if she wishes she could see through the material of it. She looks up at Emily and Aaron and smiles politely, “My sponsor is very much an advocate of exercise,” she says, rolling her eyes as if she didn’t see the benefit of it, “And since I’m not exactly going to go to a gym I try and go on a walk every few days.” 

Emily simply stares at her, digging her nails into Aaron’s arm in a way she’s sure will leave tiny little crescents on his skin, fighting against every instinct to pick up her daughter and run in the other direction. It’s primal, a need she doesn’t fully understand to protect Lily from the woman who had broken her down so many times. It makes her sad, her gut churning over the that she feels like this about her mother. 

As she always did when she thought of Elizabeth in moments like this, she wondered what it was like when she was Lily’s age. If her parents walked around a park just after the sun rose in an attempt to calm her after a hard night, or if someone else did it. There was a disconnect she knew she’d never solve, pieces of the puzzle she wasn’t even sure she wanted as she constantly tried to put the picture of her early childhood together.

“We had a bit of a rough night,” Aaron says politely, only giving away what he knows Emily would be comfortable with, “We thought some fresh air would help.” 

Elizabeth’s gaze is drawn to the stroller, her eyes fixed on the back of it. Emily can see the desire in her mother’s expression, how she is itching to step forward and look in the stroller, to set her eyes on her granddaughter for the first time. To see her outside of the few pictures Emily had shown her of when she was much younger. But she doesn’t. Instead, she takes a step backwards and clears her throat.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you both,” she says, smiling tightly as her eyes meet Emily’s, “I’ll call you to arrange for us to get coffee again soon?”

Emily stares at her for a second, not used to her mother respecting her boundaries, frozen in place as she’s unsure what to do next. It’s only when Aaron places his hand over hers, his skin warm despite the cool tinge to the air around them, that she nods, his touch always enough to bring her back to herself. 

“Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat as her voice shakes a little, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Elizabeth nods and looks at the stroller once more before she turns and heads in the direction she’d come from. Emily and Aaron stand still until they can no longer see her, and Emily eventually lets out a slow breath, her grip on her husband loosening as her shoulders relax.

“That was…something,” she says, furrowing her brow as she looks at him, “She looked good though. Better than when I last saw her.” 

“She looks like she’s looking after herself,” Aaron says as he releases his hold on the stroller and places his hands on Emily’s hip, turning her to look at him. He smiles softly at her as he squeezes her skin through her jacket, “Are you okay?” 

She nods, although she isn’t sure she is okay, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looks back in the direction her mother had walked in, “I think so. I’m glad she didn’t…” she swallows thickly and looks back at him, “It’s nice she respected my wishes with the whole Lily thing.” 

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear and leans forward to kiss her, “She’s trying.” 

Emily hums and rests her head on his shoulder as she leans in for a hug, something he welcomes gratefully as he wraps his arms tightly around her, “I just don’t know if it’s enough.” 

He rubs his hands up and down her back, “And that’s okay Em,” he says as he pulls back, cupping her cheek, “It doesn’t have to be. Not after everything she’s put you through.” 

She smiles at him, her hand on the back of his head as she runs her fingers through his hair. Anything she wants to say in response is cut off by a cry, and both of them look at Lily, sighs escaping them at the same time as she shifts back and forth, her hands up and grasping for Emily as she demands their attention. 

“Oh baby,” Emily says, disconnecting herself from Aaron as she reaches into the stroller and unbuckles Lily from it as she lifts her up, “Did you enjoy the world's shortest nap?” She settles Lily against her chest and kisses the side of her head.  

Lily babbles against her, sounds that were sounding more and more like words every day muffled against Emily’s skin. She settles almost immediately in her mother’s embrace, her favourite place to be at any given moment. Emily cups the back of her head and adjusts her little hat, smiling at Aaron when she looks at him and their eyes meet. 

“Why don’t we go home and I’ll make us all breakfast?” Aaron offers, smiling at the sight of his girls together. He never got used to it, always blown away by watching them, by seeing how excellent a mother Emily is, even in the moments she still doubted herself. He couldn’t wait to have more children with her, to build their family into something he knew they both wanted. 

“That sounds perfect, huh, Lil?” Emily says, settling her on her hip as they turn back to head towards the car, “Daddy can make breakfast.” She says, and Lily babbles again, the sound so close to Dada that it makes Aaron beam and Emily groan. “I swear to god, if your first word is Dada after you lived inside of me and I fed you with my body for 8 months we’re going to have words, sweet girl.” 

Aaron laughs, “Research does show that babies are more likely to say Dada first,” he says, his smile only widening when she playfully glares at him, “It’s something to do with it being easier to pronounce.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “What was Jack’s first word?” She asks, realising she’d never asked before, that she didn’t know that piece of information about the little boy who she loved as her own, “Did he say Dada first?” 

He nods as they approach their car, “He did,” he says, his smile fading slightly as he collapses the stroller and avoids eye contact with her, “I missed it though, we were on a case,” he smiles tightly at her as he puts the stroller in the trunk, “Haley told me about it when I got home.” 

Her heart clenches in her chest for him. She wishes she could promise that this wouldn’t happen again, that the nature of his job didn’t mean that he might miss Lily’s first word too, but she can’t. But she knows it doesn’t make him any less of a good father. He loved his children unconditionally, tenderly in a way that those who didn’t know him would likely think he wasn’t capable of. She knows she couldn’t have picked a better man to have a child with, to have more children with at some point in the future, and she’d happily spend the rest of her life making sure he believed it. 

She leans in and stamps a kiss against his lips, Lily contently pressed between them, and she smiles contentedly as she pulls back, “Let’s get this little one home, and maybe we’ll even be able to sneak in a nap ourselves.” 

He chuckles and nods, “I think there’s more chance of her first words being Behavioural Analysis Unit than that happening, sweetheart.” 

-x-

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[bloodblanks]

a field of red spider lilies [eyeless jack x reader] — part i.

Hanahaki disease. A sickness caused by unrequited love, where the one afflicted with such feelings suffers from flowers blooming in their heart and lungs which are then coughed out, gradually worsening and eventually resulting in death.

inspired by coughing in the bathroom from @whaleofatjme1920! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain darker content, including sickness, death, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

Hanahaki disease. A sickness caused by unrequited love, where the one afflicted with such feelings suffers from flowers blooming in their heart and lungs which are then coughed out, gradually worsening and eventually resulting in death. This disease is naturally cured by their beloved returning their feelings, however, there also exists a surgical procedure in which the victim’s emotions are removed, thus saving them.

—

Wednesday was the day the two of you broke up.

At least, that’s what you believed it to be. It only made sense—after all, that’s the day he stopped replying to you.

It had started as insidious as a lack of a ‘good morning’ text, which you found to be abnormal, but simply shrugged off as him being busy. While you took no part in it, you knew what he did for work and you knew that alongside it can come some odd hours and unexpected events. Still, you couldn’t help but fret, and it wasn’t just that he wasn’t replying. It was more so the fact that deep in your gut, you could feel an uncomfortable twist, hinting that there was something truly and unsettlingly wrong.

You weren’t usually one for superstitious beliefs, but you trusted your gut feeling more than anything else in the world. Each time something had gone wrong in your life, you had first felt it. A heavy sense of dread that settled inside the depths of your stomach, a feeling that instantly set off alarms in your head warning you of impeding misfortune.

And so, this time, when this bothersome nagging feeling tugged at your intestines, causing them to knot, you knew something bad would soon happen. When lunchtime rolled around and Jack still didn’t reply, it only confirmed your suspicions; you knew you were right.

You hated it. You hated that your gut feeling was always right, because each and every time you had prayed that it would be wrong. Each and every time, your prayers would go unheard, and calamity would strike where it would always hurt most.

This time, it was Jack.

Dinnertime came and went with no answer from Jack. You had sent him a myriad of texts by now and called him numerous times, all to no avail.

Your first thought was that something terrible must’ve happened to him, the mere prospect of that happening sending your heart into a harrowing acceleration. With shaking hands and brewing anxiety, you turned on the TV, only to see that there was no news of anyone missing. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad news, and so you proceeded to message your mutual friends in a panic, asking if they had any idea where Jack was.

Some of them answered with confusion. Some of them said they were sorry. The rest asked if you were okay. The combination of the three responses gave you an idea of what was occurring, but you desperately wanted it to not be true.

After all, how could he just leave you like that? Without a word? Without even a goodbye?

You felt sick to your stomach. You could feel an overwhelming nausea, bile threatening to rise up, tickling at your esophagus. You swallowed hard, trying to hold back from throwing up as you sank to the ground, knees clattering against the floor the same time the air was stolen from your lungs. Your heart was racing, its beats shuddering rapidly in your chest as you gasped and choked on an apparent lack of air, the room suddenly growing cold. You clutched your chest, which was threatening to explode, each beat sending waves of agony through your bloodstream. The oxygen in the room had either dissipated, or was refusing to be inhaled, rejecting you and leaving your lungs desolate and deprived of air.

You couldn’t breathe. Your heart was throbbing with pain. You felt like a fish out of water, desperately struggling and flailing before your imminent death.

Tears, warm and salty, cascaded from the corners of your eyes, splashing upon the ground as you choked on another sob. With each blink and attempt to clear the clouding vision from your eyes, you could feel the liquid dripping down your cheeks, causing you to wipe rashly at your face with your hand. You could feel the wetness on the back of your hand as you hiccuped, wailing with forlorn cries.

Just like that, you continued to sob, crying and crying until your heart emptied itself inside out and you laid on the floor, sniffling. You continued until you were exhausted, peeling yourself off of the floor and absentmindedly stumbling into your bedroom, where you flopped down, shutting your eyes and waiting to be relieved of your pain through the escape of sleep.

But not even then could you avoid the reality of your situation.

You woke up in the middle of the night, just a quarter past three, with a fresh wound opened in your chest.

You had dreamt of him. You had dreamt of Jack, in all his lifelike beauty, and the dream had been so vivid, so visceral that it had absorbed every ounce of pain that you felt, reflecting it back towards you tenfold.

That was when it started. You felt something scratch at your lungs, and so you reflexively coughed, before noticing that you could feel something lodged in your throat. Tentatively, you coughed again, and then again, before eventually the feeling evaporated at the same time as something fell out past your lips, landing in the palm of your hand.

With the room shrouded by darkness, your vision was limited, but you didn’t need to see it to know what it was. With the tiny, still wet object clutched in your hand, you got out of bed.

You staggered into the washroom, turning on the light, filling a glass of water and taking a few sips from it, soothing the burning sensation in your throat before setting it back down. It was then that you unfurled your hand, fingers splaying out and displaying a singular, glistening red petal. Even though you had already known what it was, you were once again hoping that you would be wrong, but you were unfortunately correct in knowing that you had developed the very first stage of the disease.

—

The first time you met was on a Friday evening, three and a half years ago. It was only by sheer chance you had come across him, and looking back, you wondered just how much would be different had the circumstances not aligned so perfectly, like it had.

It was wintertime, the sky setting relatively early compared to how it did a mere week ago. You had just finished your study session at the library and were about to make your way home.

It just so happened that that day marked the first snowfall of the coming year. Although the winter season had just started, the snowstorm that came was violent—within an hour of the first snowflakes falling, the entire ground was covered with a solid foot of snow. You only noticed it when you left. The second you opened the heavy front door of the library, you could feel a gust of freezing wind scrape against your skin.

You thought then, to text a friend and ask for a ride. To your misfortune, they were occupied at an evening class when this occurred. You grit your teeth and grimaced. You knew the only way for you to get home was to walk there yourself.

You weren’t too far from home, just a fifteen minute walk. But fifteen minutes in this blizzard that you were facing was no small feat. At that moment, you remembered that there was a shortcut to your home. It required walking through a few unsavoury alleyways; you had always avoided taking that route, preferring to just walk an extra ten minutes instead. However, today was different. You just wanted to get home as fast as possible and escape the harsh weather.

Plus, there likely wouldn’t be anyone else outside in this weather. You didn’t have to worry about potentially getting kidnapped and having your organs sold on the black market.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you trudged through the snow, leaving the library grounds and making your way towards the alleys. You quickly noticed that your shoes weren’t fit for the weather, and quickly it felt as if your lower legs had gone numb, the cold seeping through the clearly not waterproof shoes. Not that the shoes really mattered much, because your ankles were also exposed and left to the mercy of the snow that had your extremities so painfully frozen.

You had been so focused on the freezing hellfire that your feet were subjected to that you didn’t hear him when he first called out to you.

“Hey!” the man shouted. You snapped your head towards the source of the sound, seeing an older man, middle-aged, walking towards you. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out alone in this weather?”

As soon as he spoke, you felt an instant wave of discomfort go through you, and you forgot about the throbbing cold in your legs as your senses were heightened to full alert. Your gut instinct was telling you that this man was bad news, but knowing that information, you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“I’m going home,” you stated, voice as firm as you could make it.

“Really now? It’s too cold out here, why don’t you come back with me and I’ll take good care of you?” he questioned, a smirk on his face. You felt an overwhelming sense of disgust at his words, unable to hold back the glare you shot at him, your mouth curled down in a frown.

“I’m good, thanks,” you spoke curtly, before turning your back to him and trying to walk away.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, immediately sending shivers crawling down your spine as you turned around again to face him.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he persisted. “You know you want to.”

You forcibly yanked his hand off of your shoulder with a scowl, backing away from him tentatively.

“Piss off.”

Suddenly, his expression went from vulgarly menacing to downright furious, and you gulped at his next words, wondering just how the hell you would get yourself out of this mess.

“You fucking bitch,” he raised his voice to a shout, “you think you can talk to me like that?”

His eyes were blazing with rage, a sharp contrast to the cold surrounding the two of you. Your heartbeat was racing as if it was running for its life, and you could feel your palms get clammy as panic rose up within you.

Shit, you thought. Shit. Just what had you gotten yourself into? Maybe you should’ve played nice; gently let him down. Or maybe you should’ve just ignored him from the start. You should’ve done something differently and it wouldn’t have ended up like this.

No. There was no time to think about that now. You had to deal with your present situation.

Your eyes darted around the area in search of an escape. You had only two ways to go. Back towards the library, or run your way home. Flight was probably your best option here—fighting didn’t seem like it’d work in your favour.

You were seconds away from turning on your heels and running off when the man grabbed you by the collar of your shirt.

“Don’t you fucking ignore me!” he roared, and you grimaced as you felt a speck of spit land on your face. As you curled your lip in disgust, your hands instinctively grabbed onto his wrist, attempting to pry his hand away from you, but he only tightened his grip around the fabric of your clothing, pulling you closer to him.

“Fuck you,” you snarled at him, your heart pounding away in fear, adrenaline rushing through you as you struggled against him. You were past the point of thinking rationally, only reacting to what was happening. With his hold on your clothes, he suddenly flung his arm forward, throwing you back and onto the ground.

You fell backwards into the snow, which thankfully padded your landing with a puff of snowflakes that exploded around you. As you struggled to catch your breath, you tried to get back to your feet when he came up to you, towering above you.

You saw him reach down towards you, and you scrambled to get away from him but ultimately failed as he grabbed you by the ankle, forcefully tugging you back towards him as you miserably fought for your life. You flailed in his grasp before resorting to throwing closed fists at his face, but your punches did little to hinder him, your last chances at surviving slipping away before your very eyes.

In a desperate attempt to hold on to your life, you started screaming at the top of your lungs, your vocal cords painfully protesting as you shrieked with every last bit of force you had. You saw the look on his face, one of panic and fear, and right then and there you knew you had fucked up irreparably.

He was going to kill you. You knew that for a fact when he got down on top of you, his burly hands wrapping around your throat, strangling the last of any noise out of you, effectively silencing your screaming. Your fingers were on his, pulling them to no avail when specks of coal began clouding your vision.

You kept fighting, your hands on his face, pushing and scratching and doing anything you could to possibly save yourself from your imminent death. You kept fighting, even as your head started spinning, your body tingling with a foreign, fuzzy feeling as you felt your body go numb. You kept fighting, even as your vision blacked out, your body suspended in space, as your consciousness slipped out through your bones.

But then, slowly, there was light, and your vision was fuzzy, but you could see again. Much to your surprise and confusion, the man was no longer on top of you, but instead he was on the ground beside you, limp in a puddle of a red so rich it melted and seeped through the snow, what once was pure white now stained with an unrelenting crimson fluid.

The same fluid coated your skin and clothes as well, soaking into the fabric where it covered you and glistening over your skin where it didn’t. Mind still hazy, you gently touched your hand to your face, pulling it away to see sanguine, sticky, and warm, a stark contrast to the frozen climate surrounding you.

And then you saw him.

Above, and hovering over the man’s inanimate corpse, stood a figure clad in black, their face covered with a deep blue mask. Its eyes were empty, twin abysses that seemingly led to nowhere. But what stood out the most was the scalpel in its gloved hand, a sharp metal coated in the same liquid that was plastered over your surroundings.

You let out a soft gasp, and the man—you assumed it to be a man, at least—tilted his head down in response, the empty husks of his mask boring into you with intensity.

After a long minute of staring at each other, you finally spoke. Or at least, tried to. What came out instead was a hoarse, rasping sound, so small and muffled that you barely even heard it yourself. You coughed to clear your throat and then tried again. This time, you could speak, though your voice was quieter than usual and far raspier.

“Hello?” you spoke in a questioning tone. “What’s going on?” The man didn’t reply. You didn’t really care; your head was still fuzzy. You groaned as you sat up, the task far more difficult than you had originally imagined. Your limbs were frozen solid, completely numb, and you struggled as you got up to your feet, standing uncomfortably stiff and knee-deep in scarlet snow.

“Thanks, I guess?” you let out a small and awkward laugh, not really sure of what to do. They didn’t teach you this in school. The man didn’t react to that either, his expression unreadable behind his navy blue mask. You were just about to turn away and leave, thinking that this interaction was over, when he finally spoke up.

“Come with me,” his voice was deep, velvety smooth, but with a darker undertone. You didn’t move, merely glanced at him with a confused expression. He seemed to read what you were thinking, at least that’s what you assumed, judging by his response.

“You don’t want to be guilty for murder, do you? Come with me,” he repeated himself.

“But I didn’t kill him,” you mumbled.

“You’re covered in his blood,” the stranger explained. “What do you think the police will believe?”

“Even if I did, wouldn’t it be self defence?” you asked. Despite how hazy your mind was, you were still hesitant about following a stranger somewhere, regardless of if he might’ve saved your life or not.

“I slit his throat with a scalpel,” he scoffed. “Just come with me.” That was enough to convince you, and so you nodded in agreement. He turned his back to you and started walking in a direction unknown to you. You followed closely behind him, shuffling forwards with cold feet.

You had barely walked for a minute when he suddenly paused. He glanced over his shoulder, looking at you.

“It’s too cold,” he stated. “Get on my back. It’ll be faster, and you won’t have to walk in the snow.” You gave him a wary look, causing him to sigh audibly.

“If I wanted to do something bad to you, I would have done so already. Just come.” You nodded again, thinking that he had a point. He bent down—you only noticed how tall he was, then—and you climbed onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Then he ran.

Your eyes were wide with shock. You had never had anyone really run while carrying you, much less at this speed. He was fully sprinting, dashing through the snow with impressive speed and even more impressive stamina as he continued to do so for the entire way. Through the alleys, then through a few barren streets, devoid of anyone to see you being possibly kidnapped, then into and through a heavily forested area in the neighbourhood. You recognized it as uphill from where you lived, which was on the outskirts of town, on the lower half of a small mountain.

The house the two of you eventually stopped at was much higher up from where you lived, and you knew that for certain since you could feel the incline as he was running up. You hadn’t even begun to process what was happening, the situation so surreal to you when he bent back down, slowly letting you back onto the ground, just in front of the large, elegant gate to the home.

“We’re here,” he said, rummaging through his pocket to pull out a cluster of keys, putting one through the lock and swinging the large door open.

You followed behind him as he led you through his snow covered garden, all the way to the front door of the rather majestic house he resided in. He unlocked the front door, pushing it open and holding it for you to enter. You waddled in, bending down uncomfortably to take off your very much soaked shoes.

You heard the door close behind you, the lock following suit, and you gulped anxiously, still hesitant about being in a house alone in somewhere you weren’t familiar with, with someone you didn’t really know.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to the washroom,” he spoke as he took his own shoes off, walking inside with you on his heels. “You can take a hot shower there, warm yourself up and clean off the blood.”

You nodded, following him into the washroom, where he stood outside as you closed the door.

You noticed instantly how grand the washroom was. It was completely made of marble, polished and clean, complete with an enormous bathtub and shower.

He must be very wealthy, you thought.

You peeled your bloodstained clothes off; the blood had begun to coagulate and stick to the surface of your skin, which was awfully unsettling for you. You tried your best to ignore it as you left your dirtied clothes in a pile on one of the counters, feeling somewhat guilty for getting blood everywhere in this pristine home.

You stepped into the shower. The room temperature water felt as if it was scalding as it touched your skin, and you gasped, quickly pulling yourself away to turn the temperature down even further. You let the water run over your skin, clearing the caked garnet fluid off of your skin, layer by layer, watching a deep shade of rust run down through the drain.

You stayed in the shower for quite some time. Every once in a while, you took to turning the temperature higher, slowly removing the cold from your body, returning it to normal. While adjusting to the gradually increasing temperature, you took to washing yourself, using some of the shower gel that was already there. You found that you rather enjoyed the scent; it was too masculine for you but nonetheless the fresh, aquatic smell of the soap was pleasing to your senses. When you could comfortably have the temperature akin to what you usually showered with, you turned the water off, finally stepping out.

You saw a few dry folded towels sitting on the counter and figured that you could use them. It was only when you dried yourself off you realized you had nothing to change into. With a curse under your breath, you decided to wrap the towel around yourself as modestly as you could before exiting the room.

Your hands twisted the doorknob, and you opened the door just a crack, poking your head out to see if the stranger was there. To your surprise, there was nobody, but then you looked down at your feet and saw a pile of fluffy, folded fabric that surely had to be clothing.

Quickly, you snatched them up, closing the door to the washroom again before taking your towel off. When you unfolded the clothing, it was revealed to be a bathrobe, which made sense; he likely didn’t have any women’s clothing.

You put the bathrobe on, making sure it was tied firmly around your waist before you left the washroom. You weren’t too sure where to go from there, seeing as you didn’t recognize this place. Just as you were thinking about what to do, you heard the man speak.

“I hope this is fine. I didn’t have anything else for you to wear,” he explained. You turned around to look at him; he was still masked, his face concealed from you.

“No, it’s good, thank you.” You gave him a soft, reassuring smile. He merely nodded.

“What should I do with my clothes?” you questioned.

“I’ll dispose of them, don’t worry about that. Would you like some coffee or tea?” You thought about his question for a second, before answering with your drink of choice, making sure to thank him as well.

“I’ll be right back, then. Make yourself comfortable in the living room if you’d like, it’s just down the hallway.”

You followed his instructions and went to the living room, sitting down on the sofa. You felt a bit weird not wearing underwear, crossing your legs just to make sure you would not flash anyone. You hadn’t even had much time to think to yourself when he returned with a mug for you, handing it to you before sitting down beside you on the sofa. As much as you wanted to bombard him with questions, you waited patiently for him to speak first.

“I don’t usually get involved in other people’s affairs,” he stated, his eerily calm composure a surprise to you. Not that you were freaking out either, but you also weren’t the one who had just committed murder, and you were still processing everything.

“Well, I’m kind of glad that you did.” Your voice was softer than usual, still a bit dazed from what had just happened. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Now, I need you to listen to me carefully.”

You nodded.

“You were never there. You don’t know that man. You don’t know me.” He paused before following up with a question. “Do you live alone?”

“Yeah,” you answered, glancing at his unwavering blue mask.

“Good. You returned home from wherever you were, and that’s all there is to it. Now, nobody should suspect you of having anything to do with this, but if anyone asks, do not speak to them. Ask for a lawyer.”

You nodded again to show your understanding.

“That’s all I need to do?” you meekly inquired.

“Yes,” he responded, his voice sounding confident enough to soothe your worries, at least in the meantime. But there was something else on your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” You knew curiosity killed the cat, but you couldn’t resist.

“Go on.”

“Have you done this before?” You were almost afraid of hearing the answer. The room fell silent for a moment, before he finally spoke, his answer unnerving.

“Yes.”

“I see,” was all you could think to reply. You were at a loss for words. Through the quietude, you could hear the ticking of a clock.

The man then stood up, walking towards the window. He pulled the velvet curtains aside, peeking through them to look outside. After a second, he let the fabric go, turning back around and returning to where he was seated.

“You can stay here until the storm dies down,” he offered, changing the topic.

“Thank you,” you thanked him again. “If there’s anything I could do to repay your kindness—”

“No, there’s no need for that,” he quickly refused. The two of you continued to sit in tranquillity before another question popped up in your head.

“Can I ask another question?” you queried.

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you wear a mask?” You hoped this question wasn’t too intrusive. The smarter part of your mind was telling you that you should stop asking, but you found it far too difficult to resist.

“I—” he started, but then changed what he was about to say. “It’s best if I go. I have some work to do, anyway.”

You felt a slight sting at the rejection.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling ashamed for prying.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he quickly explained. “I just— I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t.” You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence came from, but somehow you felt sure that you would not be afraid of whatever this man was hiding behind that sapphire mask of his.

“You sound oddly sure about that,” he observed, slightly chuckling.

“Because I am,” you replied. On second thoughts, perhaps you were coming on a bit too strong. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to—”

“What’s your name?” he questioned, cutting you off.

“Uh, Y/N,” you answered, unsure of what this had to do with anything.

“Y/N,” he repeated, almost as if he was talking to himself. “It’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, to your own surprise, blushing.

“Y/N,” the man started, “I’m not human.”

His words caught you off guard, not having expected it in the slightest.

“What?” you asked, not sure if you heard him right.

“I’m not human,” he stated again, the empty holes of his mask burrowing into you.

“What do you mean?” you inquired, not fully understanding what he was trying to tell you.

The man was still for a second, but then he lifted his hands up, slowly—either not to scare you or for dramatic effect, you couldn’t tell. He unhooked his mask from his ears, lifting it off of his face, lowering his hands and resting them on his lap.

You stared at him, stunned.

His skin was grey. You hadn’t noticed earlier because of the situation at hand, and also because he was wearing a thick coat outdoors and now just a turtleneck indoor, his ears mostly hidden behind his hair, but his skin was a pale shade of ash. The rest of his face was ‘normal,’ attractive even, with his chiseled cheekbones and sharp jawline.

But none of that was nearly as remarkable as his eyes. Or rather, lack of. His eye sockets were empty, not any less of a void than it had previously appeared to be. His eyelashes were a dark brown, full and fluttering when he blinked like the wings of a butterfly, serving as the edges of the small abysses.

“I told you I didn’t want to scare you,” he muttered, sighing at your evidently shocked reaction.

“No,” you rushed to speak, “I’m not scared. I’m just surprised.”

“You aren’t afraid?” It was his turn to be bewildered when he asked that question. You shook your head no to emphasize your point.

“No, not really.” You shrugged sheepishly. “You look good.”

Your words caught the both of you by surprise. Evidently so, since you saw the man’s eye sockets widen. And as for yourself, you did not know when you had become bold enough to say things like that; perhaps your near death experience had changed you in some way. You supposed it only made sense after all. You had looked death in the eyes. What more was there to be afraid of? Surely not just telling some man he was attractive.

“Thank you.” It was his turn to blush now, and it was odd, to you, to see the same rosy glow that would appear on you, to appear on him as well. It was surprisingly attractive.

“You never told me your name,” you observed, having just realized that you didn’t know what to call him.

“Jack,” he responded.

“Jack,” you mumbled to yourself. “It’s nice,” you commented, remembering what he had said about your name earlier. Your words were rewarded with a smile, one that you found to be so genuine, so beautiful.

“It’s nicer when you say it.”

part two ->

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta reader insert #marble hornets #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack creepypasta #hoodie mh #hoodie creepypasta #masky mh #masky creepypasta #ticci toby #ticci toby creepypasta #angst #angst fanfic #angst writing #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #creepypasta nsft #eyeless jack smut

[midnightstargazer]

Trick or treat!! 🎃🍫

Thanks @thecasualauthor18! Here's a fluffy Potter family drabble for you:

The needle slipped easily between layers of orange and black fabric as Lily sewed triangular eyes above a jagged, toothy smile. “You know it would be quicker to just use magic,” said James, leaning against the doorframe with three-month-old Harry in his arms. “Too late,” said Lily smugly. “I’m almost done.” She made a few final stitches and carefully snipped the thread. With a smile, she held up a soft, round jack-o-lantern costume just Harry’s size. “He won’t remember,” she said. “But we’ll take pictures.” Their baby was going to be the cutest little pumpkin the world had ever seen.

Trick or treat!

#answered ask #ask game #trick or treat #Potter family #Harry Potter #Lily Evans Potter #James Potter #my fanfic #drabble

[kay-elle-cee]

Hello there! I just finished And The Roar Will Rise and I'm speechless (okay maybe not really speechless because I have a lot to say about it) but anyway, I'd love a director's cut of this fic. What drew you to it, why and how you changed some things, et cetera...

Also, while I'm on the subject, I left a comment on AO3 but totally forgot to mention how incredible the kiss and the moment at the pub later on (including Sirius' perfect reaction) were, so please please tell me more about that too.

Much love ❤️

🙈 A director's cut for And The Roar Will Rise? Prepare yourself, Leda, because I have a LOT to say! (also thank you so much for asking, I'm so happy you enjoyed this fic!!!!)

Alright, let's go point by point:

What drew you to it?

I LOVE Newsies. Like, as someone who listens to musicals on Spotify on a daily basis, as someone whose top genre on Spotify Wrapped is Musicals/Showtunes every year, Newsies is one of my favorite musicals. (The others being Next to Normal, Spring Awakening, and Hadestown, if you're interested in that tidbit of trivia). I love the music, I love the choreography, and I love the push-and-pull of Jack and Katherine.

While watching the pro-shot on Disney+ for the umpteenth time (because yes it's available to watch whenever you want and features Jeremy Jordan with a comical NY accent but the face and singing voice of an ANGEL) I was deep into a particular wave of Jily Brainrot and maybe it's because Katherine has red hair and that helped spur me on, but I just thought "oh my god it's Jily." Not to mention the whole fighting-against injustice plot and the ragtag crew Jack is so embedded in.

Fun fact, I worked so hard on including nods to the lyrics and lines from the actual script without just, like, dropping them in clunkily. It was my first time doing something like this and I really enjoyed the challenge of at least trying to make these things seem natural. I didn't want them to feel out of place, but noticeable to people who are familiar with it (like James telling Lily to "Give 'em hell, Evans" in place of Jack telling Katherine to "Write it good." or James shouting to the newsies "All for one and one for all, we newsies are on strike!" in place of the lyrics "No one can make us quit before we're done/one for all and all for one" followed by chants of "strike!") I actually color-coded and annotated my doc last night and you can see that here.

Why and how you changed things.

*cracks knuckles* alright SO. A few things happened during the planning process that brought it all together:

The World

I knew off the bat that I didn't want them to be in New York, so I needed to move them to London. But with this came the complication of the entire plot—namely, the history of labor unions in England. I looked at that and thought "I don't really want to do that research and get something wrong" so I needed to find the new crux of the Newsies issue.

Sometimes I regret not adding magic into the world of my other AU, restless waves rise and fall, so for this fic, I was like hmmmm what if there is still magic, and there's no statute of secrecy. How would that work? (I went through a few different iterations of this, if they still went to Hogwarts or not, if they all lived and schooled across England but came to London for the summer, etc) This also helped firmly establish a fictional world instead of it being more historical.

The Characters

And honestly first and foremost, I quickly identified the direct ties to the Newsies characters. I have been so adamant from the start (you can ask @alittlebitofeverything23) that Sirius was my Crutchie, even though Remus was probably the obvious choice. And Remus still would've been a good choice! But Remus is so Davey to me, and Crutchie being caught and sent to the Refuge very much felt like Sirius being caught and sent back to live with his parents for whatever reason (which I then changed to Azkaban, for ease and also canon-related reasons).

Picking my Pulitzer was hard for me.* I waffled endlessly on if it'd be Petunia or Vernon, but knowing it was them meant that there was kind of a clear canon-adjacent issue for the Newsies to face. It also made the reveal tricky, because if you know Newsies, you know Katherine's father runs the paper, but when you see it for the first time and she's in the office during that confrontation with Jack, it's a complete surprise. To kind of draw out that suspense a bit in Roar, I name dropped Mr. Mason as the owner (who the Dursleys have over for dinner in CoS), then you get Vernon, and THEN you get Petunia barging in with Lily at her heels. I'm calling it "the slow release reveal" 😂.

*On the subject of Pulitzer, I did briefly consider having it be an old wizarding family, or someone like Umbridge or Voldemort trying to sow division but that was too complicated to pull off so we just kept it simple.

The Plot

Now as for the plot (oh god this is getting so long, I'm sorry!), not only did I have a different central premise for the strike (which meant I had to find a new solution), I also had the fallout of Lily's article happen before the act break/chapter break, so that left a lot of questions for me while writing the second chapter. I had to adjust a bit, and I think finagling that is why it took me longer than expected to update. So I brought in a ringer, and that ringer was a nod to Katherine Plumber from Newies, and once I introduced her and other publications, the ending solution seemed a little more clear to me.

I didn't intend to get too in-the-weeds with press and prejudice but that's what I get for not wanting to do research on labor unions, haha. But it was really nice to write something just hopeful about everything, and I really loved writing how the Muggle newsies stood their ground and supported the wixen newsies.

The kiss and the pub.

Listen, the kiss scene in Newsies makes me absolutely FERAL. The anger to kiss speed does something to my brain, and I was SO EXCITED to write it! I've had the line "God you're so infuriating! I’m about three seconds from hexing you, you know.” written since like last summer, lol. James grabbing her wrist to place her wand under his chin, feeling like he deserves it, to have her GRAB his FACE and kISS HIM?!?!?!?! I'm unwell.

And I'm so happy you enjoyed the end scene at the pub and Sirius' little quips. I missed him in this chapter and wanted to give him some of those lighter moments after I rudely put him in jail. The end was a little tricky, I won't lie, because as I had the Newsies script up, I realize Jack's decision not to go to Santa Fe is pretty....abrupt? Like his friends are just like 😔 and Pulitzer offers him a job that he doesn't even seem excited about and he's like ALRIGHT NEWSIES HIT THE STREETS! So I really wanted to make James' decision a little more fleshed out....he's still getting out of London, just not leaving everyone halfway around the world, which seemed like a pretty good compromise to me.

Additionally, in Newsies, Katherine is very much a "wherever you go, I'll go, too" type of person in the finale, and while Lily has her own plans, I wanted her to have that same sort of encouragement for him. She encourages him to go to Australia if he really wants to, because she wants him to be happy. She listens as he talks through his thoughts, even gently offers her own thoughts on it all. It's been a whirlwind week for them, but she helps offer him clarity for his next big step.

*breathes* Wow I'm....so sorry. This got SO long. I hope you at least enjoyed my ramblings? Could honestly talk about this fic for hours probably. Thank you again so much for the ask and I'm so happy you liked this fic!

#asked and answered #pennyrigby #And The Roar Will Rise #newsies au #director's cut

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

WT #6: Made To Watch

Summary: She didn't have to watch him sleep, but Lily had made Oliver a promise she'd watch over him.

TW: drugging | withdrawal

WC: 1193

She’d watched him fight tooth and nail against other contestants; her eyes never straying from the screen that showed uncomfortable close-ups revealing conflicted emotion and pupils blown from the synthetics.

The drugs themselves were administered in pills that were forced down the contenders necks in an ugly display before the cameras, though the disgust emerged from some of the fighters reluctance to bite back. At the start of the month, Oliver had been one to fight back vehemently; biting and kicking whenever he could and contorting himself in the grips of jacked up Invigilator in any way he could. Still, they persisted; having to force gloved fingers into his mouth in order to get the pill down his throat. Every time he’d gag and spit, but eventually they’d win - and it was becoming easier for them to do so. 

Across the weeks, it was evident that he was giving up the fight, yet the fiery anger in his eyes revealed to Lily a determination far beyond physical action. 

Or so she hoped, anyway. 

Because when he fought in the Arena, mind and judgment clouded by narcotics, she knew that it wasn’t him. They all knew that the humanoid beast that was unleashed by hyper-stimulants was a distraction for those watching; the more irrational and exciting the contenders appeared, the more interest the crowd would take. And it was terrifying to watch. 

Even more so at night, as when the Arena emptied and the fanfare moved to the streets and surrounding hospitality areas, the contenders were sequestered back to their cells by the Invigilators. This was followed by a brief visit from a physician and two orderlies who did their best to patch up any wounds, wash them, dress them in clean clothes, and then leave food for the fighters before leaving for the night. While this may have been viewed as a small mercy, the action was just to get them through the next day and to make them appealing for Investors to bet on them. However if the contender was seen as a lost cause, then the physician would simply try and make them comfortable. 

After the visit, the contender was left alone to the elements of their cells. The bars of the cages filtered in the cool night air that chilled the shivering bodies to their sunburnt cores, and the bed was no more than a plastic mattress on a dusty, cobbled floor. 

Perhaps alone was a generous way to describe Oliver’s situation, as in the corner of the cell, posted just out of reach, was a camera streaming his entire existence to the world. 

He knew they were there - after all it’s what they had depended on. But it made it no easier to watch him deteriorate from a man of wiry muscle and reasonable weight to a skeleton functioning only by drugs. Drugs that had to leave the system at some point. 

From the time they’re force-fed the pills at 12:15 PM, there was a six hour window in which contenders where physically pained to exert the energy and adrenaline coursing through their systems. But this energy had to go somewhere - the drugs had to wear off. 

So while watching her love fight for his life out in the open was painful, it was even harder to watch him sleep. It was intimate; it was supposed to be his time for vulnerability but the nature of the Arena left little room for privacy. In a way she preferred to watch him sleep - to have him all to herself. She promised him as such; she said she’d keep watch. While her promise was to ease his mind, she often worried about how defenseless he must have felt; to have his insecurities and weaknesses supplied to the public so easily. Every night, she watched him toss and turn and toss again in a beaded sweat as his body came down from the effects of synthetic adrenaline. 

On his bed, he tried to keep curled towards the wall, baring his bony back for all to see. His legs were crossed at the ankles, shaking and twitching against fried nerves as the symptoms slowly bled through fresh bandages and soaked his shirt with sweat. He jolted, however, when the tremors sent spikes of agony through his stomach, and he let out a garbled yell. And then another as a domino effect of pain caused tremors of discomfort throughout his body… and he cried out once again as the tremors turned to full body shakes that opened the floodgates of previously hidden emotion. For the first time in months, he began to cry. They were ugly sobs that wracked his entire body and left him more exhausted than a day in the Arena could ever. It hurt her even more to hear that he was trying to be quiet about it - his shaking shoulders rarely interspersed with gasps and whines as his lungs protested in earnest. 

Lily watched Oliver's torment unfold in the privacy of her thoughts, her heart aching with every moment of his suffering. As she observed the raw, gut-wrenching cries escaping his trembling lips, she wished she could reach through the screen and hold him, to let him know he wasn't alone - to tell him that it was all going to be worth it if he only held on for just a little longer. He just needed to win. 

In the twin bed next to her, Gem shifted in her sleep, and Lily became acutely aware that she wasn’t alone like Oliver was. However, her tears had little consequence on her image, not when she was granted the privacy of her own bed and a slumbering roommate. In a way, Lily supposed the sobs would scare away the bidding investors, therefore leaving more room for their team to get their claws in. They had a lot riding on whether or not they were able to get in for their allotted Pep Talk time, and if Lily knew then what she did now, then she may have begged Oliver to be more vulnerable…Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, so  in the quiet darkness of their shared despair, she reserved herself to whispered promises of love and unwavering support, even though he couldn't hear her. She vowed that when all this was over, she would do her best to mend what had been broken, though the relationship healing would have to wait, she supposed, as the chamber of horrors left far more permanent scars than their argument could have ever created. 

In the end, Lily wondered if Oliver believed she kept her promise of keeping watch. Regardless. the incessant hum of the surveillance camera's machinery seemed to mock them; a constant reminder of the world's relentless gaze 

Across the better half of the late hour, Oliver's cries eventually subsided, his exhausted body finally laying still as the last dredges of the synthetics oozed away with every bead of sweat; leaving him vulnerable and depleted. 

Lily wished she didn’t have to watch him at all, but the jagged rise and fall of his chest presented a comfort far greater than any five star hotel room. 

#whumptober2023 #made to watch #surro writes: wotp #will of the people #original writing #drugging tw #forced to fight #whump #angst #withdrawal

[welcome-to-the-nunyverse]

Symphonies & Stories on Saturday!

Where I take songs I heavily relate to GAC and discuss it.

First song for this: Bubble Wrap by Precious Pepala

This is a song that has themes & undertones of religious trauma stemmed from overzealous parents, and it represents breaking away from that. And for that reason, I relate it to my characters, the Espositos.

The Espositos (shown right below) are eight siblings who have what’s known as gifts and curses—otherwise known as power with a downside (I can probably touch on that in a different post).

My story is a low fantasy, taking place in our world, so this magic is uh… not exactly normal nor expected! And for the two Catholic parents of the Espositos, this is unspeakably nightmarish. They are under the belief that their children got this magic from the Devil, and as a result treat them as so. They treat the children inhumanly, referring to them as demonic scum, & prohibiting them from going outside as a means to keep them from being seen from the outside world and henceforth associating the Esposito reputation with demonics.

They essentially grew up with the idea that they’re hell born being ingrained into their mindset.

And that relates very well to the song :3

I’d imagine it’s the Espositos’ internal struggle after they run away from their parents. They want to find against everything they’ve been taught, but at the same time struggle with believing it’s true. After all, they’re an outlier in society and, as far as they know, the only people with gifts and curses in this world (haha untrue).

The ongoing verse that’s repeated three times has different inflections and tones each time and goes as:

If I get to those golden gates

And he turns me away,

Well then you can say “I told you so” and

I’ll burn forevermore

Like the sun that’ll rise

Even after I die

The first time the verse is sung is the softest version of itself, and to me it feels like the Espositos that don’t put up much of a fight for varying reasons. Beverly because she’s more of a mediator and caretaker than a fighter, Wolfgang because he can never truly find it in himself to defend his own humanity since he hardly believe he has any, August because he’s quite numb and really accepts any pain he’s prone to, and Lily because she’s a timid child.

The second time this verse is sung, it’s with more intensity in the voice, and that reminds me of the more fighter or angry Espositos. Tess because of her generally defensive nature mainly to protect her younger siblings, May because she’s learned that having a hard exterior as a form of protection, Jack because he’s so confused why they can’t be accepted as normal, and Benjie because he’s been hardened by witnessing the suffering of all his older siblings and himself.

All the Espositos internalize this message their parents scorned into their ears, and it’s made them all types of ways: most importantly, fearful. Fearful of acceptance from the world that they’ve been told hates them. And this can mainly be exemplified in how they fear rejection from their foster mom, Janette O’Reilly.

And I imagine that most with the third verse, when in my mind it’s a shift from the Godly imagery that the song itself is representing to a comparison to the Espositos fearing rejection from the only source of parental affection they’ve had.

“Golden gates” instead of referring to the Heavenly gates, now may refer to the gates of Janette’s home. “Turns me away” refers to a fear of Janette rejecting them; tied to that misbelief that they’re unworthy of love, especially that parental love. If this one, singular chance of hope turns them away, then what the Espositos have been told their whole lives would be true. They’d be nothing more than demonic spawns, unfit for society, and unloved by all but each other. And that final verse represents all that is on the line for them in my relation to them and the song.

And that’s all for that! Gonna hopefully do another next Saturday!! Bye.

#nuny’s scribbles #gac #gifted and cursed #g&c #nunyverse #espositos #tess esposito #beverly esposito #wolfgang esposito #may esposito #august esposito #jack esposito #lily esposito #benjie esposito #oc #long post #symphonies & stories on saturdays

[randomingoftherandomness]

Could I get a Shangzhi fic where one is having a bad nightmare and the other comforts?

A/N: I'm rewatching Episode 5 and absolutely re-swooning over the scene where Gege comes to the prison to pick up Didi. And the matching black robes with the gold embroideries? Unf. Couple clothes FTW.

Side note, I can tell that Yuanzhi's embroidery is of a lily, but what's the one on Shangjue's? Does anyone know? Inquiring minds wonder.

Enjoy the fic!

--

It comes in flashes.

The sight of his mother and younger brother dead at the door of their home. Shangjue's world is burning and the air is thick with the screams of the dead and dying. Someone calls his name and he turns to see a glimpse of a black robe disappearing around a corner. When he moves to give chase, he finds himself at the bottom of the prison steps, waiting with bated breath for a shade, a shadow.

And then.

In the clinic. The acrid smell of burning herbs, sweat, and the tang of blood. A hand so cold, so unnaturally weak, pressed between his own. How many more times will his weaknesses cause him to lose the ones he loves?

Gege...

It turns to pitch black. Then to daylight. A field of corpses lay around him. Faces of people he knows. Faces of those he can only half remember from a life ago. But one face. Shangjue frantically runs through the dreamscape, screaming without sound.

...ge!

He is in the throes of lovemaking. Body to body, tangled in ecstasy and passion. A kiss brushes over his lips and he gasps, pulling back to see Yuanzhi choking on a mouthful of blood, chest slick with red, eyes wide and fearful as he sobs--

Shangjue makes a grab for his knife the moment he crashes back into the world of the waking. Frantic jack-rabbiting heartbeats ring loud in his ears, and he kicks off, scrambling back and away.

"Gege, gege, hey hey, it's just me. It's just me, Ge."

Yuanzhi's face swims in front of him. He repeats himself, coaxing him softly until he lets Yuanzhi take the knife away from him.

"Ge, can I touch you?"

Shangjue's throat clicks on that swallow. Breath hitching, he holds out his arms. "Yes, of course, yes..."

Yuanzhi practically throws himself into Shangjue's embrace, climbing into his lap and wrapping his body around him. Shangjue welcomes the weight against his body. Holds on to the anchoring heat of him, the way he moves, breathes and feels so, so alive.

He reaches up to sink his fingers into Yuanzhi's hair. Tilting his head, he breathes him in, letting himself drown in the way Yuanzhi smells like himself and them all at the same time.

"I had a bad dream."

With gentle pats, Yuanzhi hums his understanding against the side of his head. His breath tickles against Shangjue's scalp. Wrapping his arm around Yuanzhi's waist, he allows himself a moment to reorient.

They're in his room. Still in the bedclothes they'd fallen asleep in. The watery silver of the moonlight slips in with the autumn chill.

They're alright. Yuanzhi is alright. The family is alright. There is no imminent threat to contend with. Shangjue is safe. They all are.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Yuanzhi asks.

Shangjue exhales, relaxing his hold on Yuanzhi enough to reach a hand to splay over his left breast. Keeping it there for a beat, he runs his touch up to his neck, brushing his thumb over his pulse point. Carefully, he traces the line up to Yuanzhi's jawline.

Caressing the corner of Yuanzhi's gentle smile, he shakes his head. "No," Shangjue says. "Not right now."

Yuanzhi nods, placing his own hand on Shangjue's chest. "What do you need?"

Curling his fingers, he dips in to press their brows together. Savouring the way their breaths mingle, he murmurs, "Just let me hold you?"

"Of course, you can," Yuanzhi huffs, tilting his head to carefully kiss him. "But if we could just move this to the bed, I think I'd be grateful."

The request is sudden enough to startle a bark of laughter from Shangjue. "Alright. Whatever my Didi wants."

#my journey to you #my journey to you fic #gong shangjue #gong yuanzhi #gong shangjue x gong yuanzhi #gab writes stuff #no but for reals though what's the flower embroidery on Shangjue's couple pj

[criticalwrites]

i'm definitely looking for more writing partners (21+ only) to do more fandom 1x1s on discord! i prefer ccxcc but will do ccxoc. i only do fxf/nb or mxf/nb and will play either gender. i'm also happy to double and/or world build.

under the cut are canon characters that i either write as or would like to start writing as, and a list of ships. please read my rules and what i do first before interacting with me.

CANON CHARACTERS: - will write most of these against ocs

buffy the vampire slayer:

• buffy summers • spike • willow rosenberg • tara maclay • faith • cordelia chase • anya jenkins

charmed:

• leo wyatt • piper halliwell • phoebe halliwell • prue halliwell • paige matthews • cole turner • chris halliwell • wyatt halliwell

daughter of smoke and bone:

• karou • akiva

god of war:

• kratos • freya

marvel (mcu):

• bruce banner (before he becomes smart hulk) • natasha romanoff  • tony stark • pepper potts • thor odinson (post thor:ragnarok) • jane foster  • peter quill • gamora • sam wilson • m'baku • wanda maximoff • loki • bucky barnes (post falcon & the winter solider) • valkyrie • kate bishop • yelena belova

pirates of the caribbean:

• will turner • elizabeth swann

stranger things:

• joyce byers • jim hopper

snowpiercer (netflix):

• andre layton • melanie cavill

the addams family:

• morticia addams • gomez addams

the boys:

• hughie campbell • starlight • billy butcher • the deep • queen maeve

the witcher (netflix):

• geralt of rivera • yennefer of vengerberg

the mask of zorro:

• elena de la vega • alejandro de la vega

the munsters:

• lily munster • herman munster

the mummy:

• evelyn o’connell • rick o’connell 

twilight:

• emmett cullen • rosalie hale

underworld:

• selene • michael • david

van helsing (netflix):

• vanessa helsing • axel miller • jack • ivory • scarlet harker

SHIPS: - these are all ccxcc but will do ocs as well

buffy the vampire slayer:

• buffy summers & spike • willow rosenberg & tara maclay

charmed:

• leo wyatt & piper halliwell • phoebe halliwell & cole turner • prue halliwell & cole turner

daughter of smoke and bone:

• karou & akiva

god of war:

• kratos & freya

marvel (mcu):

• bruce banner & natasha romanoff  • tony stark & pepper potts • thor odinson & jane foster  • peter quill & gamora • kate bishop & yelena belova • wanda maximoff & oc (only adding this since i have a female oc i would like to play against wanda)

pirates of the caribbean:

• will turner & elizabeth swann

stranger things:

• joyce byers & jim hopper

snowpiercer (netflix):

• andre layton & melanie cavill

the addams family:

• morticia addams & gomez addams

the boys:

• hughie campbell & annie january • billy butcher & becca butcher

the witcher (netflix):

• geralt of rivera & yennefer of vengerberg

the mask of zorro:

• elena de la vega & alejandro de la vega

the munsters:

• lily munster & herman munster

the mummy:

• evelyn o’connell & rick o’connell 

twilight:

• emmett cullen & rosalie hale • oc vampire & oc werewolf (only adding this as i have a male wolf oc i want to use)

underworld:

• selene & michael • selene & david

van helsing (netflix):

• vanessa helsing & axel miller • jack & ivory

#1x1 rp #discord rp #fandom rp #fandom 1x1 #discord 1x1 #indie rp #marvel rp #btvs rp #charmed rp #the witcher rp #discord roleplay #1x1 roleplay

[maddymoreau]

Fallout New Vegas Live-Blog Part 4

I went on a killing spree against all the Fiends. I murdered every single member including the ones inside Vault 3.

I tried to take a cool picture on Fiend Leader Motor-Runner's chair but for some reason the player sits like this 😂😭

I stuck to my word and burned Cook-Cook alive. Before that I blew up his precious Brahmn named Queenie with a Plasma Mine. It was really satisfying seeing him lose it and kill his companions.

I also turned in all the Fiend Leader's bounties to the NCR at Camp McCarran, freed those held captive in Vault 3 and helped retrieve Ranger Morales' corpse.

I got a lot of interesting intel from a handsome ghoul at Freeside named Rotface.

I worked on Quests for the Khans like saving Anders from the Legion and delivering drugs to Vault 3.

I then killed all the Khans. I killed them despite the fact they agreed to help me fight against Ceaser and that they idolized me.

In game the only way to kill them is through a bloody massacre but for my Courier I'm rewriting it a bit. Killing the Khans the same way she killed the Fiends doesn't make sense for her character.

Since she really got to know the Khans beforehand (even Papa Khan tells her she had the makings to become one of them). I imagine she poisons them all. Her Science Skill is high so she'd easily know how to do it. Her Speech Skill is also super high so she'd be able to talk around and stop anyone from finding out. She was also idolized so if anyone saw her messing with something (helping with dinner, cooking drugs etc.) no one would find it suspicious.

She really wanted to let the Khans live, but after speaking with Yes Man she started to doubt her decision. His opinion is EXTREMELY important to her. To an unhealthy degree.

While fighting the Fiends she starts to wonder. After the fight with Ceaser even if the Khans do leave will their drugs? How long until the Khans grow in size before their drugs begin to get trafficked into her New Vegas?

So I picture her visiting the Khans by herself after she kills all the Fiends with Lily and ED-E. The Khans are very vulnerable right now since they're distracted after losing their biggest buyer (The Fiends). She tries to subtly engage the idea of them no longer selling drugs and finding other means to support themselves. However from their reaction it's clear that will never happen. So she goes through with her plan.

She kills them all in one sweep.

During it I imagine she's eating dinner with Regis, Diane, Jack, Melissa and Papa Khan. The poison kicks in and she'd take the antidote in front of them. Apologizing and explaining her reasoning. Jack would be too focused trying to help Diane. While Regis, Melissa and Papa Khan try to attack her but it's too late.

Despite being poisoned around the same time Papa Khan would die last. It's almost fitting. Him desperately fighting to survive like his people always have.

By the time she'd leave Papa Khan's home all other Khans have succumbed to the poison. It was merciful! I had no other choice! She'd try to convince herself.

When she reports to Yes Man hearing his praise is like a god sent.

It's almost enough to clear her conscious . . . almost.

akdf;k I actually picture this conversation between her and Yes Man happening inside the Presidential Suite in The Tops that Benny gave her before she killed him.

I can imagine after Yes Man says this she just giving him a big silent hug. It's the first time she's ever done something affectionate like this so he's like ?? but reciprocates. Yes Man would probably make a remark about it (not sure exactly what). Afterward she pulls away and acts completely fine. Trying to pretend that didn't happen because she's embarrassed. From there she'd go back to normal. Changing the topic and trying to figure out what she should do next.

Also I think it's REALLY funny my Pit Boy says the Great Khans view me as a Wild Child but no is actually left to view me that way.

I'm going to do the Old World Blues DLC next. When she discovers the satellite at Mojave Drive-in projecting onto the theater's screen and gets abducted I like to think during that time she's going to feels like this is divine punishment for what she did.

Part 1-3 Below:

Part One:

https://www.tumblr.com/maddymoreau/738944610851864576/i-spent-a-majority-of-my-time-exploring-the-top?source=share

Part Two:

https://www.tumblr.com/maddymoreau/739188768511229952/finally-leaving-the-strip-i-worked-on-a-quest?source=share

Part Three:

https://www.tumblr.com/maddymoreau/739399214287749120/fallout-new-vegas-live-blog-i-was-looking-at-a?source=share

#I want to learn more about his Yes Man’s character before even trying to think of dialogue for him. #I can’t wait to read a bunch of Analysis posts about his character when I finally finish the game!!! #Fallout New Vegas Spoiler #MadisonPlaysFalloutNewVegas #Long Post #Long Text

[whiskeynwriting]

Babe. Idk about you but it’s like 75 and sunny where I’m at and my brain is stuck on babycakes and daddy Jack 😍 (honestly this scenario could also work for Frankie baby) Thots below:

Spring is in full bloom. Babycakes has been doing some spring cleaning, the house is all clean,candles are lit all over, windows open to let the breeze in. She’s got her favorite sundress on, looking cute! And let’s say Jack comes home from work early to surprise her( or maybe he’s been out doing something, either way he’s not been at home lol) He’s got a big bouquet of flowers 💐 bc they reminded him of her💕 and she’s in the kitchen baking some cookies. He walks in and sees her, she has her back to him and hasn’t heard him come in so she’s just humming and baking away. Daddy Jack is so smitten and in love and the human form of 😍 bc that’s his baby! But obvi she turns around and jumps bc oh shit jacks home lol and she’s all awe 😍 when she sees the flowers and runs to him and practically jumps in his arms and showers him with kisses and the tightest hug ever.

Okay honestly I originally was thinking thots about getting railed in a sundress but this took a super fluffy turn instead lol don’t worry tho I’ll be back with thots but possibly with another Pedro boy 😉

Did I damn near make myself cry while writing this? Yes. Do I regret it? Absolutely fucking not.

Before You

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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1k Follower Celebration

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Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) mentions of sex, established relationship/marriage, mentions of death and widowship, sad Jack to happy Jack (we love to see it, that’s my baby)

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A/N: This made me emotional. If this doesn’t scream “Agent Whiskey is my comfort character” I don’t know what will. Baby, I love you &lt;3

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Agent Daddy Whiskey Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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They reminded him of you; delicate, soft, and pretty enough to catch your eye even from a glance. He’d stopped by to pick up your favorite bottle of wine, and once he saw them, he knew he had to get them for you, too. It wasn’t a particularly special day, there wasn’t a reason to celebrate. He’d thought about you all day, replaying the events that had happened between your bedsheets last night, physical love made with gentleness and intimacy, something that made him feel so loved by you. That isn’t to say he didn’t feel loved when sex with you wasn’t gentle, it was certainly just as enjoyable. It was just that sex with you, when delicate and slow, felt like something entirely different as a whole.

He could compare the act of you coming into his life to that of a butterfly’s wings, the butterfly effect. Nothing was the same after you’d arrived; it astounds him that something as simple as the flap of an insect’s wings, as a dance between two strangers, held the ability to create the world anew.

The bouquet Jack holds in his hands are in fact comparable to you. An arrangement of light pink lilies and roses in the shade of magenta, the two flower types intermingling and tied together at their stems with a pretty, white bow. The color pink reminds Jack of the candy wrappers on Valentine’s Day, of the color of the Cherry Blossoms in his childhood front yard, the strawberries he picked every spring at the back of his parent’s farm. Something romantic, something delicate, and something sweet. And altogether, that perfectly describes you.

He thinks about his life before you, almost laughing quietly to himself as he shakes his head. There’s so much about him then, so many things he did and traits he had that are entirely nonexistent now. One-night stands with strangers from bars, endless nights spent in his empty house alone, going out to eat because he never liked making dinner for just himself, working late at the office with no one to come home to, always feeling lonely in the world because no one understood him the way that you do.

“Oh!” you jump, finally turning around and facing him.

He grins at your surprised state, having been leaning against the wall near the front door for about ten minutes now. When he came in, you were busy baking, singing along to the radio you have on. He could tell by the smell that you were making his favorite cookies, oatmeal raisin. The cleanliness of your shared home was obvious as soon as he stepped in, everything neat and tidy, a few candles lit, with the windows open to let in the smell of spring.  

“Hey baby,” you grin, gazing warmly at him.

Your eyes then flicker down to the bouquet he’s holding in his right hand, his left resting in his front pocket. And your smile grows at the sight, having not only been greeted by your loving husband, but by a beautiful bouquet of flowers, too.

“Hi honey,” he returns, his smile widening when you dart over to him.

He holds his arms out, stumbling back a step or two when you run into them. Your quiet, giddy squeal makes him chuckle, wrapping both arms around you tight, though he does his best be careful of the bouquet.

Jack feels sturdy when you leap into his arms, his deep laugh vibrating against you. Immediately, you duck your head down into the crook of his neck. You can smell his cologne here, chest squeezing tightly with happiness when you feel his strong arms wrap around you firm and snug. It feels so natural for you to be here, nuzzling your body against him. The same arms that hold you when you’re sad, the same ones that pick you up only to plop you down on your shared bed, wrapping just as tightly around you now as they do then.

“Why’re you home early?” you ask, the brightest smile still plastered on your face when you pull back.

All Jack does is smile, moving to hold up the bouquet. “Missed you, babycakes.”

Your cheeks lift even higher with joy, twirling slightly in your little dress. You then lean in, giving him a few passionate kisses before your lips move elsewhere. He smiles as you pepper his cheek and jawline with kisses, heart bursting with affectionate joy at seeing you so happy that he’s returned home.

With prudent hands you take the bundle of flowers from him, turning to bring them into the kitchen. Jack watches you with love warming his heart, following behind you and moving to lean his forearms on the stone counter. He watches as you fill a vase up with water, sprinkling in the packet of flower nutrients before setting it aside. You then go to cut the stems, making sure their length is to your liking before arranging them in the vase.

There hasn’t been a time where Jack wasn’t absolutely smitten with you, and the current moment is certainly no exception. You’re in a small sundress, the olive green one you’ve had in your closet for about a year. It’s slim-fitting and goes down to your mid-thigh, held up on your shoulders by two straps. Simple, but elegant.

“You’re so pretty, sugar, you know that?”

You glance up at him with a slightly doubtful smirk, a playful one that makes him round the counter and pull you into his arms. He hugs you from behind, watching as you continue to perfect your arrangement. Jack’s warm, soft lips find your neck, humming ever so slightly. He’d taken off his hat before he came over, setting it on the chair so it wouldn’t get in the way of his tender love. Memories of last night once again drift into his mind, his lips roaming your neck making you think the very same.

“I love you, baby.” You grin, leaning your head to the side for him. “And I really missed you, too.”

The two of you ended up cooking dinner together, talking about your days while eating at the table. Once you were both finished with your food, you decided that cuddling up on the couch and watching a movie seemed like a nice way to end the day. Since you’d already cleaned so much today, Jack insisted on taking care of the dishes. With an appreciative kiss on the cheek, you let him, roaming off to your shared bedroom to get changed.

You decide on a pair of black shorts and one of Jack’s old army long sleeves. This one in particular was always a favorite of yours, dark green with his unit’s number on the back. A sleek ponytail seems comfortable and cute, so you tie one up before making your way back out.

You hadn’t thought you were gone that long, but apparently, you were. It was long enough for Jack to clean up the rest of dinner, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and packing up any leftover food, eventually finding his way over to the couch to pick up on an old hobby.

Immediately, it brings tears to your eyes. You continue walking down the hallway, making sure to be quiet as to not disturb him. You want to soak in every ounce of this you can get.

A curious smile forms on your face as you continue to hear the guitar’s strings. He’s humming at first, and you expect it to stay that way, but then, he starts to speak alongside the melody. You hadn’t ever heard him play the guitar before you were married, let alone sing. He’d only played one other time since Anna died, that intimate event occurring on the first night of your honeymoon. And he’d played this very song for you. So, you’re careful not to make any noise, you just take it all in, your heart filling with a combination of sadness and joy.

“Was my heart beatin’ in my chest? Was I even alive before the day we met?” it’s quiet, soft, and barely audible if you didn’t know the tune.

“Heard I was a wild one, actin’ like a child some,” he continues. “Heard I was a fast one always was the last one, waitin’ for the other shoe to fall.”

You step forward again, inching closer to the beginning of the hall, listening to Jack’s fingers rhythmically pluck the strings, his deep baritone continuing to sing.

“I’ve heard stories ‘bout the boy I used to be,”

Each tiptoe brings you closer to him, brings you closer to this melody. It’s one of the songs you danced to at your wedding, too, the one he dedicated specifically to you.

“But I don’t remember me, I don’t remember me…”

And then he sees you, smiling softly as you lean against the wall, admiring him openly. He meets your eyes, an affectionate smile now on his own face.

“Before you.”

Thank you for reading <3

“I Don’t Remember Me (Before You)” - Brothers Osborn

#baby #I love you #so so much #daddy whiskey #agent daddy whiskey #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Four

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi besties <3

As always, the love for this version of them means the entire world...especially after the anon saying I should stop this fic. You are all the absolute best and I am forever grateful for this little corner of the internet.

Anyway, I got yelled at for the last chapter. I will probably get yelled at for this one and I will deserve it.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She stares at him, her mouth falling open as a disbelieving scoff escapes her, “Pakistan?” 

It feels like his heart is in a vice, the grip on it getting tighter and tighter with each passing second. It was a feeling that had settled in his chest the moment the Deputy Director had walked out of his office, something he knew wouldn’t shift until he had this conversation with his wife. He nods as he reaches for her hand and links it through his, their wedding rings knocking against each other as he squeezes tightly. 

“He said the request for me to head it up came from the director himself,” he says, and Emily presses her lips together as she looks down at their joint hands, turbulent emotions rolling through her stomach. A mix of pride for her husband and the fact he was being recognised by the FBI for everything he’d done, for the things he’d almost died for, and dread at the thought of having to live without him. 

“What did you say to him?” She asks carefully, pleased when her voice remains even, that she’s able to cover the nausea climbing up her throat. 

“I said I had to talk to you about it,” he replies, stroking his thumb back and forth over the heel of her hand, “I’d never agree to anything without doing that.” 

She blows out a shaky breath, and closes her eyes, shaking her head as she laughs humourlessly, “Neither one of them is someone who takes no for an answer,” she says, swallowing thickly, “If you say no you could tank your career.” 

“I’ll quit tomorrow if you want me to say no, Em,” he says seriously, his eyebrows furrowed as he leans in closer, eliminating any space between them. He smiles at her and it wavers, the breath he huffs out skipping across her face, “My wife is pretty well off.”

She chuckles and closes her eyes, “You love your job.” 

“I love you more. I love Lily and Jack more,” he says, cupping the back of her head and drawing her closer, resting his forehead against hers, “Nothing is more important than the three of you.” 

She stamps a kiss against his lips before she pulls back, “Do you want to go?” 

The answer was complicated. It was an amazing opportunity, one he would have jumped at a few years ago. He knew if his life was different, if he had more to run away from than he had to run towards that he’d probably go. Find solace on the other side of the world in an attempt to fix what he’s sure would be missing if he and Emily weren’t together, to somehow stitch himself back together without her handing him the thread. He didn’t want to be far away from her and the kids, didn’t want to potentially miss milestones in Lily’s life that he’d missed in Jack’s. 

“I don’t know how much of a choice I have,” he says honestly, “He said it would be a few months-”

“A few months?” She exclaims, her calm exterior slipping and she frowns at him, “That’s ridiculous. We have an almost 10-month-old-” 

He squeezes her hand, cutting her off with a soft smile, “I already told him that amount of time wouldn’t be acceptable. If I did it…it would be one month. Two months maximum,” he assures her, “I’d be back before her birthday.” 

She nods and blows out a breath. She felt vaguely reassured by that, but she knew how these things worked. That they could delay him coming home, that once he was out there his stay could be extended. “Do we have to make a decision now?” 

He shakes his head, “We can sleep on it, but we have to make a decision soon,” he says and she nods, looking back at their joint hands, falling silent as she tries to figure out how she feels, “I’m sorry sweetheart.” 

She looks up so quickly it briefly hurts her neck and she feels her heart break at the look on his face, the genuine devastation in his eyes, and for a moment she puts aside her feelings about all of this. He was the one who would be leaving if they decided he was going to do this, he was the one who would go weeks, maybe months, without seeing his children, and she could tell he was worried she was angry at him. 

It’s a hangover from his marriage with Haley, her lack of understanding about his job, about how much of it was out of his hands, still deeply ingrained within him. Emily feels a flash of anger towards the other woman that she knows she doesn’t deserve. It was one of the many reasons Haley herself had said Emily and Aaron were better suited, because they understood this part of each other in a way she had never been able to. 

“Oh, honey,” Emily says, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug, his head pressed against her chest. He holds her tightly, his arms banding firmly around her, and she feels his breath stutter against her collarbone. She rests her cheek on the top of his head and runs her hand up and down his back, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m so proud of you.” 

He pulls back and looks at her, his eyebrows furrowing, his eyes shining in a way she knows hers are too, “Really?” 

She nods and runs her fingers through his hair, “Really,” she says, smiling softly, an edge of mischievousness to it he sometimes sees in their daughter’s smile, “Although, part of me wishes right now that you weren’t so damn good at your job.” 

He laughs, loud and bright and it eases some of the ache in her gut. He nods and rests his forehead against hers, “Me too.” 

They are cut off by a cry from upstairs, the baby monitor on the table crackling to life half a second later and they both smile. Aaron stamps a kiss against her lips and pulls back. 

“I’ll go,” he says, kissing her once more before he stands up. He stops before he gets very far and he turns to look at her, “I love you, Em.” 

She smiles at him, a sad edge to it that makes him wish he’d never said anything, that he’d given them the evening to just be together and happy. 

“I love you too.”

___

Emily smiles as she watches Jack patiently holds his hands out so Lily can use them to hold herself up, briefly standing on shaky legs before she falls onto her bottom, giggling when Jack joins in too. 

“That was so good, Lil,” Emily says, reaching out and smoothing her fingers through her daughter’s unruly hair, “Is Jack helping you learn to walk?” 

“When will she be walking properly, Emily?” Jack asks, tilting his head at her curiously, forever impatient when it came to his sister being able to play with him. 

“Probably soon, Jack,” she says, smiling softly at him, “Remember we said it would be around the time of her birthday?” 

The thought of it made her ache. She loved seeing her daughter grow, loved seeing her personality develop and watching her hit milestones, but she also missed when she was tiny. When Lily was a dot of a thing who would sleep against her chest for hours. She felt the same way about Jack too, how he’d changed so much right in front of her eyes over the last few years.

“I can’t wait,” he says enthusiastically, holding out one of Lily’s toys for her, his focus entirely back on his little sister. 

Emily’s smile falters, the reality of the fact Lily’s birthday was going to be on the other side of Aaron’s time away from them all weighing heavily on her. They’d made the decision together that he would go, on the grounds that it was only to help the task force get set up and that he’d only be there a couple of months at most. It was something the deputy director had agreed to and Aaron had signed all the paperwork just the day before. They hadn’t told anyone on the team yet and she was dreading their reactions, but they had told Haley, both of them aware they couldn’t make that decision officially without telling her. 

It hadn’t been an easy conversation. As predicted Haley hadn’t understood, her initial reaction the same that it would have been if she and Aaron were still married. They’d talked about it in detail. Told her how Aaron would be away for a couple of months at most, that Emily would still be at home and that nothing with their arrangement with Jack had to change. Emily was nothing short of grateful when Haley eventually agreed. Part of her had been worried that she’d be hesitant to have Jack come over when Aaron was away for such an extended period of time. She loved Jack just as much as she loved Lily, and she wanted to have as much of Aaron around her as possible while he was gone. 

She hears the doorbell ring and she blows out a breath as she hears Aaron’s footsteps as he goes to answer it. They’d agreed with Haley that they’d all tell Jack together, so they hadn’t hinted at anything whilst he’d been with them the last few days. She gives herself a moment before she stands up and lifts Lily into her arms, as she smiles at Jack.

“That will be your mommy, honey,” she says, sitting on the couch and resting Lily on her lap before she pats the cushion next to her, “Come sit here.” 

He frowns as he stands up and walks over to join her on the couch, “Am I in trouble?” 

She shakes her head and presses a kiss to his forehead, “No sweetie, you’re not in trouble. Mommy, Daddy and I just need to talk to you about something, okay?” 

He nods, his eyebrows still furrowed together, and snuggles into her side as Haley and Aaron walk into the living room, “Hi Mommy.” 

Haley smiles as she settles onto the couch opposite them, warmth that feels a little like jealousy spreading through her as Aaron settles on Jack’s other side, the sight of the four of them all together something she still needed a second to get used to. 

“Hi honey,” she replies, “Did you have fun with Daddy, Emily and Lily?” 

He nods enthusiastically, “Emily says Lily will be walking soon and then she can play with me more.” 

“That’s so exciting,” she says, looking at the baby sitting on Emily’s lap, her fist in her mouth as she looks up at her mother. Haley smiles softly before she looks over at Aaron and they lock eyes, a silent conversation they’d had countless times since they were young and dumb and convinced their love would last forever. He nods and clears his throat, turning his attention to Jack, his hand running through his hair. 

“Jack, buddy, we need to talk to you about something,” he says, and Jack nods earnestly. Aaron feels his breath catch in his chest, briefly unsure what to say even though he’d practised it a dozen times in his head. He looks up at his wife as she places her hand on his knee, reaching over Jack and squeezing the joint for a second, her smile reassuring as their eyes meet before he looks down back at his son, “You know my job is to fight bad guys, right?” 

“Emily does too!” 

He chuckles and he nods, “Yeah, she does. Well, sometimes I go away for a few days at a time to fight the bad guys. And you stay here with Emily and Lily if I’m away when you’re supposed to be here,” he says, clearing his throat before he carries on, “Well, I have to go away for a little longer than I usually do.” 

Jack frowns, his brows furrowing together in a way that makes him look so much older, “How long?” 

Aaron sighs and feels Emily squeeze his leg again, “Until just before Lily’s birthday, buddy.” 

The room falls into silence for a moment before Jack looks back and forth between all three of his parents, “Thats so long.” 

“I know it is,” he says, tugging Jack into his lap, holding him close as he drops a kiss to the top of his head, “But I love you so much, and so do Mommy and Emily. And whilst I’m gone I need you to help look after Lily.” 

Emily smiles and reaches over, running her fingers through the little boy's hair, “And nothing will change here, okay? You’ll still be here half the week just like normal.” 

Jack nods slightly absentmindedly and looks over at Haley, “Really?” 

Haley nods, wanting nothing more than to pull her son into her arms, but knowing this had to be a moment for Aaron and their little boy, “Really. We’ve already talked about it. I know you enjoy your time here.” 

Jack’s lower lip starts to tremble and he presses his face into his father’s chest, “I’ll miss you, Daddy.” 

Aaron closes his eyes and pulls him close, pressing a fierce kiss to the top of his son’s head, “I’ll miss you too. So much.” 

He’s proud of himself for holding it together, for not falling apart, until Haley and Jack leave, an agreement that they’d get together for dinner before he left echoing around them as the door closes. It's only when Emily turns to look at him, Lily on her hip, matching expressions on their faces, that he breaks. 

As Emily comforts him, Lily pressed between them, babbling to herself and blissfully unaware of everything going on around her, all he can do is hope he’s made the right decision.

___

Emily holds her daughter close, making sure her little jacket was covering her properly. It was easier to focus on protecting her from the cool spring evening air than it was to think about what was about to happen, about the fact she was about to say goodbye to her husband for a few weeks. Lily presses her face into Emily’s neck, rubbing her forehead against her skin, and she kisses the top of her head. 

“I know, sweet girl, you’re tired,” she says, kissing her head again, “We’ll be heading home soon.” 

She clears her throat to get rid of the shake in her voice, desperate to hold it together, to not show Aaron just how much she was struggling with this now the moment was here. She looks up as he walks towards them and she fixes a smile on her face. 

“We’re all ready to go,” he says, and her eyes drift past him to the plane that would take him away from her, full of other agents and military personnel who were also in the middle of saying goodbye to their families. “Em-”

“You know that promise you made when I stopped going on cases with the BAU?” She asks, her eyes drifting back to his, “I was pregnant, this one was Nugget,” she says, bouncing Lily slightly, both of them taking a moment to smile at the fond memory of their daughter’s first nickname, “And we were in that kitschy hotel in Alaska.” 

He nods and looks at Lily, reaching out for her hand, smiling when she grabs his finger, “You’d just had that fall and were told to rest for the rest of the day. We sat in bed and you asked me to promise to not take any unnecessary risks.”  

She smiles, feeling how it trembles, the force of her emotions climbing up her throat. It felt like a lifetime ago not just a year. They hadn’t met Lily, they didn’t even know they were having a daughter, and they weren’t married yet. So much had changed, but the foundation of their relationship was still the same - they loved each other fiercely. And that was why she understood that he had to do this.

“I’m asking you to make that promise again,” she says, cupping his cheek, “I need you to not do anything stupid so you come back to us, okay?” She asks, her chin shaking as a tear finally breaks free from her lashline, “You need to come back so you can watch Lily and Jack grow up. And so we can make half a dozen other adorable babies.” 

He chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in his chest, and he nods, capturing her lips in a kiss. It tastes of their tears, a tang of sadness stuck to their lips as they pull away. “I promise.” 

She nods, her forehead pressed against his, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her nose and then her cheek, “So much,” he turns his attention to Lily. He kisses her forehead and then her cheek, taking a moment to breathe her in, “Love you Lily-Pad, I’ll be home soon okay?” 

Lily babbles, grabbing his face with her tiny fists, her sharp nails digging into his skin, the imprints of her touch that would last until after he walked away. 

They hear his name being called, the final call for boarding ringing around them, and they both sigh. Emily brushes his hair off his forehead and then cups his cheek again. He turns his head and kisses her palm. 

“I’ll let you know when I land.” 

She nods, dragging him into one last kiss, “Don’t do anything stupid,” she says, reiterating her earlier point, “You’re already a hero to me.” 

He smiles and kisses her before he steps back, “Right back at you, Mrs Hotchner. I love you.” 

“We love you,” she says, sniffing, wiping tears from her cheeks as she waves at him as he starts to walk away, “Wave goodbye to Daddy, Lily.”

Lily waves too, mostly encouraged by Emily who smiles sadly when her little girl mirrors her movements. Emily watches as Aaron boards the plane and he turns back to wave, his smile reassuring even with the distance between them. She stays until the plane leaves, until it’s nothing more than a spec in the sky, something easily confused with the constellations she’d once mapped with her grandfather. 

Lily grumbles in her arms and Emily adjusts her hold on her, kissing her daughter’s forehead as she turns to leave, “Come on baby. Let’s go home.” 

-x-

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