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causenessus · 7 months

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Waking up with You. | Stardew Valley

inc. : Sam, Sebastian, Elliot, and Haley headcannons <3

written in 2nd pov

song recc: corduroy dreams by rex orange county

word count: 921 words

there is absolutely no bias towards any one of these characters i have no idea what you mean ( ´_ゝ｀)

sam

definitely is not awake before you but is waking up as you are

has no reason to wake up early but does so anyway to spend time with you and see you off :)

tries his best to help where he can but we all know his real time to shine is at 10 pm with a frozen pizza when you've just come home from a day of errands

after you've left in the morning he sits for a little bit in silence not sure what to do with himself without you

he might go back to sleep, he might start his day too and walk to town to see friends or family

sometimes forgets he lives on a farm now so if you forget to do something in the morning, he definitely won't remember either unless you ask him to do something

and as soon as he hears "can you-" he'll already be nodding his head

"just tell me what to do, babe"

if he wasn't able to sleep during the night, he'll try and take care of chores anyways or try his hand at instant pancake mix

nonetheless, he's always there as emotional support and to be your ray of sunshine in the mornings <3

sebastian

definitely is awake before you

before living with you, he couldn't be paid to wake up this early but now he's used to it

his bedtime still hasn't changed though, meaning he'll get maybe 2-5 hours of sleep before he's back up and out of bed

(he hasn't told you but secretly he makes up for lost sleep with naps during the day while you're gone)

he starts on coffee as soon as he's awake to keep himself awake but mainly for you

most mornings you wake up a little later and will make your way sleepily to the kitchen

without fail, every morning, with a mug of coffee in his hand, will turn and kiss you on the forehead when you come in

"good morning, love"

will let you take the mug in his hand or if you leave to get ready, he'll leave one for you on the counter

if he wakes up early enough before you, which happens frequently, he'll definitely take care of the crops and feed the animals

he always wants to help in any way he can and admires how you did this all on your own before he moved in

if you're running late or forgot to take care of something on the farm, he'll take care of it no question whether you asked him to do something or not

he won't even tell you that you forgot to do something, he simply has a checklist in his mind of what has to be done and makes sure it's all been done every morning

if you have enough time to sit down in the morning, you both will sit down in the kitchen, talking softly as warm sunlight starts to pour in from the window

elliot

what an overachiever

even before moving in with you he always woke up at the crack of dawn (or earlier)

for what? idk

early bird gets the worm or something

might have woken up with a sudden burst of creativity and now can't fall back asleep

he doesn't always drink coffee but makes sure to brew some for you

enjoys morning walks around the farm and will often take care of your animals and crops on the way

if you've gotten to the chores first, he'll still walk with you and help in anyway he can

he also walks you to wherever you're starting your day, whether that be the mines or bus stops

sometimes if he's woken up early enough, he'll take a longer walk to the forest and pick something to bring back to you on the way

definitely one of those guys who finds and brings pretty rocks and shells to you for you to sort through and pick the ones you like <3

"darling, look at the rocks i found this morning"

"elliot, it's 5 am when did you go to the forest"

it's mainly impossible for you to forget to do any chores on the farm because he's always with you with a mental list of what needs to get done

if you're running late, he's always more than happy to finish any chores for you :)

haley

loves loves loves feeding and petting your animals

loves watering your crops too if you don't get to them first

not the biggest morning person but still wakes up a little bit earlier than you to help out

her first priority is usually making you something to eat

another pro of the early mornings that keeps her motivated is the pretty sunrises

even inside, from the windows she's often caught up in the beauty of the blend of colors in the sky <3

living in town, looking at the sky was beautiful either from outside her house or by marnie's, but on your farm, it looked even better, being above the product of both of your guys' hard work

always keeps you company in the mornings and has a story to tell while you're both eating

sometimes it's about how the farm is doing, sometimes she'll show you pictures from this morning, or if you guys didn't have enough time to catch up yesterday you'll both talk about your days

if you haven't woken up by the time she's finished making you something, you can always find her outside

if she's out on the farm taking pictures of the sunrises or taking care of chores, you can't help but smile when you see her

when she notices you, she'll smile and wave you over

"good morning, dear. look at this..."

always asks to see if you have any errands she can take care of to lighten your load

if you've forgotten to do anything in the morning, she'll either take care of it or make sure to remind you when you come home

#stardew valley #headcanons #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv haley

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radioisntdead · 2 months

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Good evening folks! Happy to have you join us this fine evening!

I'm Ace and I write for the fandoms I like! At the moment it's just hazbin hotel and Stardew valley but many more may appear! Might do something with my OCs as well if some of y'all would like to see that? I may produce some fanart if I get around to it!

↓Rules for requesting, Master list and info below ↓

I'll write:

°°Hazbin hotel Masterlist°°

[NOT YET MADE] °°Stardew valley masterlist°°

Canon x reader

A lil' bit of Canon x Canon [Can be Platonic or romantic] [For example Hazbin hotel found family headcanons]

Headcanons

One shots

Angst, fluff and all that good stuff!

[Readers will typically be gender neutral unless specified otherwise]

Alastor [Platonic or romantic] [He will be kept on the Aroace spectrum]

[Hazbin hotel] I'll write for:

Angel dust [Platonic, if asked for romantic it'll be male reader only as he's canonically gay according to the wiki, for platonic though the reader can be anything]

Rosie [Platonic or romantic]

Husk [Platonic or romantic]

Charlie [Platonic]

Vaggie [Platonic]

Niffty [Platonic]

Susan [Platonic]

Sir Pentious [Platonic or romantic]

Vox [Platonic or romantic]

Velvette [Platonic or romantic]

Valentino [Neither Platonic or romantic I'll only write about him if you wanna beat him up, I DO NOT LIKE THIS MAN, We bully him on this blog]

Lute [Platonic or romantic]

If you don't see a character you want me to write about on this list feel free to ask! I may have forgotten em' or I may make an exception to writing them! [This may not always be the case though! I retain the right to say no]

Emily [Platonic]

[Stardew valley] I'll write for

Sebastian [Platonic or romantic]

Sam (Platonic or romantic]

Abigail [Platonic or romantic]

Alex [Platonic or romantic]

Haley [platonic or romantic]

Harvey [platonic or romantic]

Elliot [Platonic or romantic]

Penny [platonic or romantic]

Leah [Platonic or romantic]

Shane [platonic or romantic]

Maru [Platonic or romantic)

Robin [platonic]

Evelyn [Platonic]

George [Platonic]

Krobus [platonic]

The children [ Platonic, found family]

Things I won't write:

Smut, Most content involving Angel dust will more then likely have some suggestive bits because it's Angel dust, but other then that, I refuse to write smut, I can and will pull out the holy water.

And that's about it, If I need too I'll add more!

Anything involving Valentino in a positive lighting, there is a good reason that man is in hell.

Clint in a romantic lighting, I'll write him a redemption arc but not much else.

Brief guidelines for requesting:

Also if anyway wonders what the little character I doodle sometimes when responding to asks it's my funky lil' Sona that is very much Alastor inspired {The deer obsession I have does NOT help}

Please be respectful, be as feral as you want but please treat me like a human being.

Please keep the cannibalistic requests somewhat sane, I'm not writing you getting eaten, the regenerating reader one doesn't count because the reader can regenerate immediately.

Respect boundaries if I have stated I will not write something do not push on it, thank you!

Her mouth privileges gets revoked in doodles

.........

Thank you for joining us! We hope to see you again soon!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you

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universitypenguin · 10 months

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Chapter 15

Summary: Lloyd takes things too far in his threat against Deputy Russell and has to change tactics mid-stream. Princess and Zach decide to push back against Detective Roth's allegations.

Word Count: 3,936

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of drug trafficking, murder, legal proceedings, spy/intelligence agencies, corruption, stalking, violence, threatening, and discussion of criminal behavior. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

The Princess & the Lawyer Chapter 15

Lloyd stood at the stove stirring a noxious mixture of gasoline and aluminum hydroxide. Pungent fumes hung thick in the air, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose with a bandanna.

The screen door slammed, and familiar footsteps echoed through the hall.

“Ugh! What is that stench? Did a gas line rupture?”

Elliot’s voice rang through the house before he came around the corner into the kitchen.

His bright-eyed appearance was in sharp contrast with Lloyd’s sleep-deprived state. Knowing his cousin had been left in charge of their captive all night, Lloyd couldn’t help but draw the obvious conclusion. Elliot’s excessive cheerfulness was derived from a more potent source than caffeine - he was smoking ice again.

“I followed your instructions and made a copy of Carl’s phone,” Elliot said, buzzing with excitement. “Guess what? Sheriff Holbrook’s texts are still on there, tucked away in some encrypted app. We could use it as leverage!”

Lloyd shook his head. “No. We can’t deviate from the plan. Did Russell agree to a meeting time?”

“Eleven o'clock at High Meadows.”

“Not a bad choice. Lots of entrances and exits,” Lloyd said. “I’m almost finished here. There’s water cooler jugs filled with this stuff piled up on the back deck. Bring your truck around and start loading them for me, will you?”

“Sure thing, man.”

Elliot bounded down the hall and Lloyd rubbed his tired eyes. He desperately needed some sleep unless he planned on asking Elliot for a bump of meth to keep him going. Lloyd shut off the stove, checked the final batch of chemicals, and rinsed his spoon in the sink. He stuck his head outside to inform Elliot he was going to bed and headed up the stairs.

Just as he lay down, his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Hansen? This is Judy Lange from the HOA. I wanted to let you know that the association swimming pool has been fixed and approved for reopening on Monday. Should I leave your keys in the mailbox for your house sitter, or wait until you’re back?”

Mrs. Lange didn’t actually hold an official position with the Homeowners Association. Her husband had campaigned for the post out of pure spite. His single-minded crusade against Della Collins’ window box planters and their “busy-looking” Ultra Star Petunias earned him a landslide victory in the election. He’d passed a statute banning all multicolored blossoms from public spaces and after his triumph, lost interest in executing the duties of his office.

Despite her eccentric husband, Lloyd found Mrs. Lange to be a reasonable person. Her annoying habit of speaking at a million words per minute was made up for by impeccable manners and a sharp sense of humor. Even Mrs. Collins, who was still torqued at Mr. Lange a year later, couldn’t resist her charms.

After his brain finally managed to process her rapid fire words, Lloyd grunted.

“The mailbox is fine. I’ll text my friend and let her know to pick them up.”

“Excellent. I apologize for calling you at such a time, Lloyd.”

Mrs. Lange’s voice carried a hint of horror, as if she’d just realized she had contacted someone in the midst of a family tragedy. Lloyd didn’t view the situation as such, but he recognized the apologetic shift in her tone as she launched into a long winded explanation.

“With everything going on, I am sure now is a terrible time for you… I just didn’t want to forget. You’re the most frequent patron of our athletic facilities. Well, usually the only patron to be frank. Mrs. Collins isn’t getting around like she used to after her knee surgery. Anyways, I’ll personally take those keys to your friend so they’re ready when you get back. And if there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

She really meant it, Lloyd thought, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. If only she knew what the man who he was supposed to be grieving had done to him.

“Thanks, Judy. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, darling. I’ll see you around.”

Already half asleep, Lloyd hung up the phone. His last thought was that he needed to call you. Hearing from Judy reminded him of home, and of you. It had been days since your last talk and that was far too long. Before the meeting with Russell, Lloyd promised himself he’d make time for a conversation.

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

You stalked back and forth in front of Zach’s desk, breathing hard, your fists clenched in frustration.

“I can’t believe his nerve! Can you believe this? Can you?!”

“Uh-huh.”

Zach grunted and continued tapping on his keyboard.

“He has the audacity to accuse us of leaking information to the media, without a shred of evidence? It’s unprofessional!”

Zach nodded, seemingly absorbed in his work.

“I spent so much time building them a database and now no one can use it. The whole process was exhausting and tedious and… are you even listening to me?”

“Yes. Roth is an infuriating bastard. I knew it from the start, and you thought he was cute.”

“I did not!”

“Did so,” Zach said.

“Did not.”

“Let’s not lose sight of our most important objective here.”

“Yes, let’s not. What is that objective, again?” you asked.

“Getting back in Roth’s good graces and thereby, restoring our access to information and resources.”

“I’m sorry, were we just in the same room? About twenty minutes ago, when Roth kicked us to the curb and Bishop had a melt down?”

“We’re not going to let our hard work go to waste. There’s more than one key for every lock, you know?”

“Uh… that’s not how locks work.”

“It is when you know how to pick locks,” Zach quipped.

“I haven’t even told you about my conversation with Mr. Liu!”

He resumed typing, his attention focused on the monitor. “No sister?”

“Well, that’s a very anticlimactic way of putting it, but yes. He’s certain that Julia didn’t have a sister.”

“That’s the conclusion I ended up at too.”

“Should we tell Roth?”

“I’d rather clear our names first,” Zach said.

“How?”

“Look at this.”

Zach pivoted his monitor to show you the screen.

You stared at a map of Arlington with a route highlighted in purple. Squinting, you noted the web address of a popular running app called PacePal. The account’s username was generic and the profile picture was an image of a man's athletic shoes.

“What am I looking at?”

Zach smirked. “This PacePal profile belongs to Peter Shaw. The account photo is of the same running shoes he’s wearing in the Twitter he shared last year of himself finishing the Miami Marathon.”

“Okay, not to make myself look like an idiot, but who is Peter Shaw?”

“A very tenacious investigative reporter with Rolling Stone Magazine. He’s also the only person who knows the real identity of the leaker, and thanks to his lax attitude toward social media security, we know where Mr. Shaw will be at two o’clock this afternoon.”

“So, if I’m hearing you correctly, we’re going to give Detective Roth a taste of his own medicine?”

“I intend to serve him a fresh plate of crow as soon as humanly possible,” Zach said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Ruthless much?”

“I didn’t pull in that jackass Lattimer without a damn good reason. We’re onto something with Julia’s supposed sister and if we don’t keep pushing the trail will go cold. What do you say, Princess? Shall we go put Shaw on notice?”

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

Lloyd called you when he woke, but reached your voicemail instead of you. He sent a text instead and dove into the shower to scrub off the lingering stench of gasoline that clung to his skin.

None of the clothes he’d packed suited the character he wanted to portray tonight, so he rummaged through Joe’s closet in search of better options. In the back, he discovered a garment bag containing the winning ensemble: a navy suit with wide lapels, bootcut trousers, and a matching waistcoat. It screamed 1970’s gaudy at the top of its lungs.

To complete the look, Lloyd installed the hair extensions he’d sent Elliot to acquire from a beauty supply store two towns over. Cutting the remaining extensions into three-inch pieces, he applied them carefully across his jaw, smirking as he remembered April's suggestion that he should grow a beard. The overall effect was a cross between Jerry Garcia and Medusa on a bad hair day.

For accessories, Lloyd raided Joe’s dresser. He added rings, a gold chain necklace, and a pair of lightly tinted orange sunglasses. The oversized frames elevated the look from vintage inspired to unmistakably costume like - a perfect fit for the character he was putting on. He slapped on a strongly scented aftershave he found in Joe’s medicine cabinet and instantly regretted it when his eyes watered from the fumes.

Resisting the urge to wash it off, he turned his attention to more practical matters. Joe’s gun cabinet yielded a wide assortment of armaments. He owned weapons from every firearms manufacturer on the market in the past fifty years. Lloyd wasn’t keen to give a hopped up meth addict a gun, but circumstances demanded it. He picked up a Winchester Renegade and checked the ammunition.

“Hey, Elliot! How’s your aim these days?”

Elliot turned around from his task of cleaning up the kitchen and did a double take of Lloyd’s outfit.

“Better than most people’s. What are you wearing, dude? Are we going to make a drug deal or audition for Saturday Night Fever?”

Lloyd snorted at the question and held out the Winchester Renegade.

“I need you to watch my back while I’m meeting with Russell. Just in case things don’t go according to plan.”

“Understood. I’m the second shooter on the grassy knoll,” Elliot said.

They took back roads to the meeting spot. By the time they reached their destination, Elliot’s old truck was covered in mud from the unpaved roads that cut through the vast Idaho landscape. They were deep in the countryside, hidden from prying eyes of passersby on the highway by miles of barren hills.

High Meadows had once been a thriving venue for team roping and barrel racing events. Now, the clay earth he remembered as being meticulously groomed played host to an invasion of dandelions and scotch thistle. The red aluminum roof over the pavilion had faded to a dull rust color and the cedar panel fencing that encircled the space was bent with age and broken in several places.

He helped Elliot unload the water cooler jugs filled with the gelled fuel that he’d spent the morning cooking. Lloyd marked out a circle, about twenty feet in diameter, in the middle of the arena and cut a small trench into the ground. With Elliot’s help he poured the viscous mixture into the trough and raked the displaced dirt back into place.

They hid their equipment in the bed of Elliot’s truck and moved the vehicle into a ravine near the main access road to High Meadows.

Lloyd turned to his cousin. “Go take up position on that hill over there.”

He pointed to a spot beyond the dilapidated grandstands. “It has the best vantage point. Also, there’s a thermal scope in your backpack in case the night vision doesn’t cut it.”

Elliot slung his backpack over his shoulder and disappeared into the hills. Lloyd took his position in the arena as the sun settled behind the horizon. He lay down on one of the risers in the grandstands, propped his feet up, and dozed until the sun went down. Suddenly, the crackle of the Bluetooth in his ear brought Lloyd back to the present as Elliot’s voice broke him from semi-unconscious.

“Russell is pulling in,” Elliot said.

“I see the headlights,” Lloyd confirmed.

The beams of Russell’s headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the arena. Lloyd leaned casually against a pillar on the far side. The position gave him plenty of time to observe Russell as he approached. The deputy was clearly spooked - he’d worn a bulletproof vest over his khaki uniform.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Lloyd called out in greeting.

Russell stepped into the arena, his eyes scanning the space, trying to assess the situation.

“Who are you?”

“Didn’t Carl tell you? We’re the Canadians,” Lloyd said, flashing a mischievous grin.

Russell’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Now, let’s get down to business!” Lloyd clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Don’t look so tense, Luke. I’m here to make you rich, and myself even richer. You see, I came here to shake down a former associate, but the trouble is this jackass died before I could get to him. So, I found a locally connected businessman and squeezed until he spilled your name.”

The deputy’s nostrils flared, a warning sign Lloyd waved off dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of him.”

“What do you mean you ‘took care of him’?” Russell demanded.

“I took him for a swim in Redfish Lake, the kind you don’t come back from,” Lloyd said, punctuating that statement with a wink.

Russell’s shock was palpable. Lloyd gave him a beat to recover, but when he just got a blank stare in response, he shifted tactics and threw his arms out in exaggerated frustration.

“Oh, come on! Be fucking for real, bro. Do you have two brain cells left rattling around in that ugly mug, pig? I got rid of your dealer because, number one, he’s a snitch and I don’t fuck with snitches. Number two, getting rid of Carl gives you the opportunity to set up a more reliable distribution system. Isn’t that nice? An open playing field with no territorial disputes from the locals? You can thank me now, or later.”

Russell hesitated. Lloyd didn’t let the silence linger.

“Okay, then. You’ll thank me later. Look, about-”

“You really killed Carl?”

Lloyd sighed. “Would I lie to you? Me? I have a reputation to uphold, Deputy.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath, that’s what you are,” Russell said, edging backwards.

“Hey! We’re not done talking business!” Lloyd yelled after the man as he turned away.

“Yes we are. Go to hell!”

“Don’t walk away from me, pig! This isn’t the kind of conversation you can just walk away from!”

Lloyd’s voice echoed through the pavilion, ringing with anger.

Russell glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, Luke… My number one rule is simple: I don’t fuck with snitches. Rule number two? Dirty cops who know your face are bad business. You see, they always end up being snitches. It’s like different flavors of the same ice cream. Triple chocolate fudge or brownie delight, who can tell ‘em apart?”

As Russell’s hand went for his gun, Lloyd flipped open his lighter and tossed it on the ground. The carefully prepared mixture of gasoline ignited instantly, shooting up and forming a wall of fire that raced around to encircle them.

Taken by surprise, Deputy Russell instinctively moved away from the searing heat of the flames an action that inadvertently drew him closer to Lloyd.

“Isn’t this nice? I find it rather cozy, like stepping into a bubble of security.”

Lloyd chuckled, his smile twisted with madness.

“This is how you conduct business?” Russell hissed, eyes glinting with shocked desperation as the flames continued to roar around them.

“I find it refocuses the attention when a deal starts getting off track.”

“What the hell do you want?!”

“I’ve made myself very clear, Russell. You need to work on your attention span. Here’s the deal: we become business partners… or you become a victim of what I like to call ‘spontaneous human combustion.’”

“Spontaneous,” the deputy muttered, looking at the flames.

“I never really plan on cremating anyone,” Lloyd said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world to discuss incinerating your business associates. “Every time I’ve actually gone through with this, the whole thing happens so fast, it really does look spontaneous. Now, Deputy… What do you say? Ready to make a deal?”

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

You sat beside Zach on a park bench, trying to make the most of the slight shade of a tree that offered a tiny bit of respite from the blistering August heat. The sound of approaching footfalls was a major relief. Five more minutes out here and you would have melted. You glanced up to see Peter Shaw, a man of average height with close cropped dark hair, nearing your bench.

Zach stood up and moved to the center of the path, blocking access to the parking lot.

“Peter Shaw. I’m Zach Hightower and this is Y/N. I assume you know who I am?”

The journalist stopped a few feet away from Zach. He was dripping with sweat, but still had the energy to offer a cocky smirk. He glanced in your direction and arched an eyebrow.

“The investigative duo. Where’s Hansen? Isn’t he usually your partner?”

“I read your article this morning. It was very interesting,” Zach said.

“Thanks. What part did you enjoy the most?”

“I thought it was very well researched. You even knew where the recent evidence was being stored. That was a very… interesting… detail to include in the article.”

Peter shrugged. “I take pride in my work.”

“The other little thing that jumped out and grabbed me was about the evidence collected in the Nguyen case twenty years ago. Your source criticized the chain of custody related to Shun Nguyen’s cell phone. That was extremely specific.”

Shaw’s grin turned from smug to sly. “I always make sure my sources have a keen eye for detail. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“One more thing. The criticism you leveled at the State Police for handling the digital evidence from that cell phone? Well, it went over my head, but I’ve got a guy who’s a genius with that kind of thing. When I showed him the article he said you’d need to consult with an expert in digital forensics to break down those kinds of technical concepts as clearly as you did.”

“Actually, I’m just that good,” Peter said, crossing his arms.

“You have a degree in English and absolutely no background in tech. You’re not that good… but I believe your source is. The level of insight they gave you left their fingerprints all over that article, Shaw. Your man’s days are numbered. If you were as good as you think you are, his head wouldn’t be heading for the chopping block.”

The journalist snorted. “Do you run, Mr. Hightower?”

“Only when someone’s shooting at me. Why?”

“Just wondering if you get any other forms of exercise, besides jumping to conclusions.”

��It’s more of a step-by-step chain of logic that links together quite nicely. You really are a good writer, Shaw - very organized. That made it much easier to fill in the blanks. Does the name Leo McKenzie ring a bell?”

The blood drained from Shaw’s face, turning his lips white. Zach grinned.

“Good talking to you, Pete. Thanks for your time! Come on, Princess, let’s go.”

“You’re way off base, Hightower,” he called after you.

Zach gave him a cheerful wave. “Hey, Pete, since you’ve undoubtedly got my number, why don’t you give me a call next time you need a source? I can teach you how to cover your tracks so you don’t keep burning through informants.”

Then he lengthened his stride, forcing you into a jog as you tried to keep up. Once you were in the privacy of his vehicle, you gaped at him.

“Are you crazy? Did you just invite that sleazebag to call you?”

“Sure. He’s made more progress on this case than anyone else. We can’t ignore that.”

“How did you know who his source was? Did you guess?”

“Deduction isn’t guessing and that look on his face was all the confirmation I needed.”

“We should tell Detective Roth.”

“No. Let him figure it out on his own. He won’t believe anything we tell him at the moment.”

“But the security of the investigation is at stake!”

“Not for long. Shaw will contact his source and alert them that we’re onto them. I want to give Detective Roth the chance to redeem himself. Also, if he can’t find a mole in his own department, I’m not sure I want to work with him.”

“Right. Hey, where are we going?”

Zach turned onto an unfamiliar exit, one that headed away from his office.

“I’ve got to make another stop. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

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

Elliot drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You really freaked him out."

"Mmmhh."

"He's going to send those drugs up in flames."

The insight was spot on. Deputy Russell’s wavering commitment to the sale was becoming more evident as dawn broke. He had raced back to the security of the Sheriff’s Offices after meeting with “the Canadians” and spent the rest of the night holed up there. Through the front window, Lloyd watched his shadow move behind the blinds.

The silhouette moved from left to right, and then crossed back again, from right to left. Russell was already a paranoid bastard and introducing a real threat to his life may have been a step too far. His restless actions raised a red flag in Lloyd’s assessment of the situation. Watching him through binoculars from their high vantage point in the parking lot of the White Rivers campsite, Lloyd decided it was time to ease the pressure and give Russell an escape hatch.

He was too spooked to hand the drugs over directly to the Canadians. After the ring of fire incident Russell was probably more likely to shoot Lloyd if he ever saw him again instead of cooperating with him.

“We’re going to plan B,” Lloyd said. “Give me a burner phone.”

He held out a hand and Elliot pressed a device into his palm. Lloyd dialed and watched through the binoculars as the blinds of the Sheriff’s office raised. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew Russell was somewhere inside.

The call connected.

“Hello? Who is this?”

Lloyd spoke hoarsely. “Hello. Deputy Luke Russell?”

“This is he.” Russell sounded suspicious.

"This is Agent Ambrosio of the ATF. Do you have a moment to speak with me? Somewhere private would be best if possible."

"Yeah, yeah. I can do that," Russell said.

There was feedback as he moved, the the sound of a door closing. He must have gone to his office.

“Okay. I can talk now.”

"Russell, I'm calling about your boss, Sheriff Holbrook. Are you aware of the case against him?"

"Uh… you mean that thing from last year?"

"Eighteen months ago," Lloyd clarified. "The federal investigation into Holbrook's involvement with the drug trade has continued, which is why I'm reaching out. We need your cooperation."

"What can I do to help you, agent?”

"We have everything that we need to make an arrest. This is a courtesy call, Deputy. We're moving on him tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

"Oh… Wow… Okay, is there anything I can do?" Russell asked.

"We're still organizing things. Holbrook is constantly armed, and we're aware of how high-risk this operation will be. I’d be more comfortable with the situation I’m sending my men into if we had your cooperation.”

“Absolutely. Whatever you need, sir.”

Lloyd’s mouth curved into a smile. Pushing too hard may have been the right play after all. His prey had just swallowed the bait without noticing the hook that pierced his lip along with it.

Game. Set. Match.

All that was left to do was reel in his catch.

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

Next - Part XVI

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

Masterlist

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#the princess and the lawyer #series: the princess and the lawyer #the princess & the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem! reader #lloyd hansen au #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fic #chris evans characters #chris evans characters fanfic #chris evans characters fic #the gray man fanfiction #the gray man fanfic

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livelaughwhump · 9 months

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Worthless - Part 18

Masterlist | Previous

Content: strong language, brief mention of past captivity, brief mention of past abuse, brief mention of past noncon, self-hatred, self-deprecation, former pet whumpee

If I forgot any content warnings, please let me know

Landon woke up to the sound of his text tone. It was a sharp ringing sound directly beside his ear, and it made him jerk in surprise and sit straight up. After a few seconds of catching his breath and gathering his bearings, Landon grumbled and lay back down in order to go back to sleep.

Then, he heard the sound again. And again. And one more time, for good measure. Landon groaned and turned onto his side to peer at his phone screen. His eyes were watering as he gazed at the bright screen. The digital clock read 12:42, but Landon hardly paid it any mind. He would've slept much longer if he'd been given the chance.

The text messages were all from the same sender, his little sister, Colleen. Seeing this, Landon's heart rate skyrocketed. It wasn't like the two didn't speak often, but it wasn't like Colleen to send more than one text at a time, unless it was important. Landon just hoped it wasn't about what he suspected it was.

However, as Landon read the texts, the anxiety in his stomach calmed, but only for a moment.

Hey, L! Remember that time you promised to introduce me to your mysterious team? Well, that was over a year ago. Soooo, I've taken the initiative, and I'm on my way over. See you in half an hour!

The next couple texts read,

You better not still be sleeping

I swear to God, Landon, if you're asleep by the time I get there, I'm gonna lose my shit

Landon Jackson Copeland!!!

Landon's stomach dropped. He had intended for Colleen to meet his friends so long ago, but that was before Elliot had been kidnapped. Since then, she'd asked more times than he could count, but he'd had to turn her down every time. Only a few weeks after Elliot had been rescued was not at all a good time to introduce his sister.

Landon quickly sat up, cursing under his breath. "Shit, shit, shit." He clicked on Colleen's name and held the phone to his ear.

She answered on the first ring.

"Good, you're not asleep," she giggled.

Landon wasn't laughing. "Coll, listen to me, now is really not a good time."

"Because of your so-called 'emergency'? It's been over a year, Landon!"

"Because it's really bad! A member of our team is going through something really serious right now, and he can't have any distractions. I'm begging you to go back home. Now is a really bad time."

"It's too late, Landon," Colleen said. "I'm not driving two and a half hours back home when I'm twenty minutes away from you."

Landon dragged a hand down the side of his face. "Colleen, I'm serious."

"So am I. I haven't seen you in over a year. Sure, we talk every day, but it's not the same. You need to be with your family as much as I do. I'm sure your team will understand."

Landon scrambled to his feet and began slipping on a pair of pants that had been discarded on the floor. He kept his phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder to keep it close to his ear. "Can't you do this one thing for me, as my little sister?"

Even though he couldn't see her, Landon could tell she was rolling her eyes. "Come on, Landon. How bad could this 'emergency' possibly be?"

Landon quickly put her on speaker as he slipped a red t-shirt over his red. "Bad enough to last more than a year."

"Well, I can't wait to hear all about it when I get there. See you soon, bye!"

"Colleen...!" She had already hung up.

Landon was panicking. To say that Elliot was doing better wasn't untrue, but he was nowhere near ready to interact with people outside of the team yet. How was Landon supposed to explain to everyone that his stubborn little sister was on her way over? What would Lyra and Karine say about it? Surely, they were going to blame him. What other possibility was there?

After pulling on a pair of socks and shoes, Landon burst from his room in search of the rest of the team.

Elliot was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, with his new art kit open on the coffee table in front of him. He'd hardly put it down since Lyra had gifted it to him, and it seemed to improve his mood exponentially. At the very least, it gave him something to focus on, and something to distract him from the panicked discussions the rest of the team had been having about the pictures they'd received from Elliot's kidnapper.

Lyra was sat beside Elliot, fast asleep and snoring loudly. Broderick was playing some kind of video game, and Karine was writing something in a notebook on her lap. A delicious smell wafted in from the kitchen, so Landon could only assume that Yvonne was in the process of making lunch.

Landon's loud footsteps alerted Karine and Broderick, who looked up from their activities in order to meet his gaze. Karine smirked. "'Bout time you woke up. I was starting to think you had somehow drunk yourself into an early grave." Broderick chuckled, but Landon still wasn't laughing.

Landon rolled his eyes. "Funny. Anyway, Karine, I need to talk to you. We have a...situation."

This seemed to strike Karine. Her amused smile disappeared, she hopped up from her chair, and approached him. "How serious?" she asked as she grabbed him by the arm and steered him into the hallway, out of earshot.

"I'm not sure," Landon said. "Remember my sister, Colleen?"

Karine wore a mask of suspicion. "Yes?"

"Well...she's on her way over."

Karine's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. "What?" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do! She's been trying to get me to introduce her to the team since I joined!"

Karine glanced in the direction of the living room and lowered her voice, "Landon, Elliot is not ready to meet a stranger, least of all someone related to you."

Landon rolled his eyes. "Cool it with the insults, would you? This is serious. There's nothing I can do. I tried calling her, but she's already driven two and a half hours to come here, and she refuses to turn back now."

Karine sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How far away is she?"

"About twenty minutes."

Karine threw her hands into the air in exasperation. "Fucking hell. All right, we'll have to warn the team and figure out what to do about Elliot. When she gets here, you're going to meet her at the door and try one more time to see if she'll change her mind."

Landon pursed his lips. "Whatever you say, but I wouldn't put much faith into that plan."

Karine glared at him. "I'm just trying to cover all our bases here, Landon. Let me think, and feel free to chip in, if you feel like being useful for once."

Landon rolled his eyes. "Would it help if Elliot stayed in his room the whole time? Lyra could stay with him."

Karine shook her head. "We can't confine him to his room. He'll think we're hiding him because we're ashamed of him." Karine dragged both of her hands down her face. "How long is she planning to stay?"

"I'm not sure," Landon admitted. "I didn't ask."

Karine sighed in exasperation. "Great," she mumbled. "In that case, we'll warn the team, see how Elliot feels, and then figure out what to do once she gets here."

Landon nodded. "Okay. I assume you want me to tell the team?"

Karine shrugged. "She is your sister."

Landon rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He rounded the corner and entered the living room. During his conversation with Karine, Yvonne had joined the rest of the team and Lyra had woken up. Now, Elliot was in the middle of hiding his drawing from Lyra's eyes, while Broderick was explaining the game he was playing to Yvonne. Landon sighed. "Guys?" All eyes turned to him. Elliot yelped in surprise and curled up to Lyra, but quickly relaxed when his mind caught up with the situation. "We, uh, we have a situation."

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "What kind of situation?" They asked.

"It's not a really serious one. It's just, um...my sister is on her way over."

Elliot's face went white. Lyra's grip tightened around him and they whispered reassuring words into his ears.

Karine appeared behind Landon with her arms crossed over her chest. "We've probably got about fifteen minutes before she gets here."

Elliot's breathing ceased and Lyra gently rubbed his back. Guilt swelled in Landon's stomach as he watched Elliot dissolve into a mini panic attack. His shoulders were shaking and tears started to fill his eyes. The sight was heartbreaking. Luckily, Lyra was able to guide him out of it pretty quickly.

"You're okay," Lyra whispered. "There's nothing to be afraid of. You didn't do anything wrong. Just breathe."

Elliot followed Lyra's breathing until he started to calm down, but he didn't look any less panicked. "I'm s-sorry," he mumbled. Lyra tried to reassure him, but it didn't seem like he believed any of it.

Broderick look at Landon and gestured to Elliot. "Are you sure that's a good idea, given the circumstances?"

Landon shook his head. "I couldn't change her mind. Karine just wanted me to warn everyone and to see how Elliot feels about it."

All eyes turned to the shaking boy on the couch, who flinched under the weight of their gazes. Lyra hugged him close and glared at Landon. "How do you think he feels about it?"

Karine approached Elliot and kneeled in front of the couch. "What would you like to do, Elliot? You don't have to meet her if you don't want to."

. . .

Elliot's mind was racing. He'd almost forgotten that people existed outside of the safehouse. The safehouse was just as the name implied; it was safe. It was warm and comforting and predictable. Nothing ever changed. Elliot knew everyone that lived there and they knew him. How was he supposed to deal with a stranger coming in? What would they think of him?

It took him several moments to realize he'd been asked a question.

Elliot sniffled. "I-I will d-do as I'm t-told."

Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Karine sighed and the expression she wore was unsatisfied. "Would it help if I gave you some options?"

Elliot didn't know the answer to that. He looked at Landon. "I-I will d-do whatever L-Landon w-wants me to. If-If he wants me to-to meet his-his sister, then-then I will. If he w-wants me to-to leave, then..." He turned his sad eyes down to his lap. "Then I'll leave. I-I understand if-if you're embarrassed by me."

Landon frantically shook his head. "I'm not embarrassed by you. I'd love for you to meet Colleen, but only if you're comfortable with it. She can be very stubborn and brutally honest, but she means well."

Karine scoffed. "Sounds familiar," she mumbled.

Landon ignored her. "I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with."

Elliot was conflicted. He wanted to make Landon happy, but he just didn't know if he was ready. "Do-Do you think she'd like me?" He mumbled.

"She'd love you!" Landon exclaimed. "Believe me, you have nothing to worry about. But if you're not comfortable with it, you don't have to meet her. It's totally up to you."

Elliot nervously picked at the skin around his nails. "I-I wanna try."

Lyra rubbed his back. "Are you sure, sunshine? You don't have to."

Elliot nodded. "I w-wanna try," he repeated.

Karine smiled. "That's very brave of you, Elliot. And if you get too overwhelmed, I'm sure Lyra would be happy to stay with you in your room. Right, Lye?"

Lyra nodded. "Of course. I'm very proud of you for trying, but I don't want you to force yourself. I'll help you out of there the second you get uncomfortable, okay?"

Elliot nodded again. "O-Okay. Th-Thank you, L-Lyra."

Lyra smiled and gently combed his hair with her fingers. "Anytime, sunshine."

The room froze when the sound of knocking filled the air. Elliot's face went white and Lyra wrapped their arms around him.

Karine looked at Landon and nodded in the direction of the door. "You know what to do."

Landon rolled his eyes and approached the door. "This isn't gonna work."

"Just try," Karine urged.

Landon sighed and pulled the front door open.

. . .

Seeing his little sister on the other side of the door was bittersweet for Landon. It had been almost two years since he'd seen her, but there was also the matter of Elliot. Still, it was nice to see her smiling face again.

Colleen was grinning from ear to ear, her bright green eyes shining with joy. "Landon!" She exclaimed as she practically tackled her brother in a massive hug.

Landon grunted and stumbled backwards, laughing. "Uh, hey, Coll." He glanced back into the living room. Elliot was still lightly wrapped in Lyra's arms. "Can we talk outside for a minute?"

Colleen let go of him and gave him a skeptical look. "Okay?"

Landon led her onto the porch and sighed as he closed the door behind them. He looked over at her with a tired expression.

Colleen raised a brow. "You okay, L?" Landon didn't know how to answer that.

Landon sighed again and gave a small smile. "It's nice to see you, Colleen."

Colleen's smile returned and she wrapped him in another hug, which nearly cut off his air supply. "God, it's been forever. How are you? What's been going on? Tell me everything!"

"Later," Landon said as he released her from the hug. He shoved his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and smiled. "So, how are the kids? Or, I guess I should ask, where are the kids?" Landon chuckled.

Colleen smiled. "They're great. They're staying with Andrey this weekend while I work to get the divorce finalized. I just got back from grabbing the paperwork, and we decided that we'll sign it together when I pick up the kids on Monday."

Landon raised an eyebrow. "Damn, well...I wasn't gonna ask about that, but I'm glad its going well, I guess. How are the kids taking it?"

Colleen sighed, but her smile didn't falter. "A lot better than I expected, to be honest. Jamari was a little upset at first, but Kiernan was very brave and helped to calm him down quickly. Once we explained it to them, they both understood and they're doing a lot better now."

Landon smiled. "Damn, Kier is more mature than I was at age seven."

Colleen laughed. "She's more mature than you are now."

Landon rolled his eyes. "I guess that's fair. Um..." He needed to try to do as Karine had asked, but the thought was too daunting. No matter how he phrased it, there was no way Colleen was going to take it well.

Colleen nodded. "Yeah?"

Landon didn't know how to say it. It was so nice talking to his sister face-to-face and he didnt want to ruin it by trying to kick her out. He sighed again. "I'm sorry, but...you shouldn't be here, Colleen."

Colleen's smile died. "What?"

Landon shook his head. "I wish I could explain it to you, but..."

"Well, you're gonna have to," Colleen exclaimed, folding her arms over her chest. "I just drove three hours to get here, Landon. I'm not leaving now, especially not without an explanation."

Landon dragged a hand down the side of his face. He didn't know what to say. "Look, I want you here. I really do, but something really bad happened to the team, and we're in a bit of a recovery period. That's all I can say."

Colleen shook her head. "That's not good enough. Why don't you want me here?"

"I do!" Landon exclaimed. "But things are complicated."

"Complicated how?" She asked. Landon didn't know what to say. "You can trust me, Landon. Whatever it is, I can help."

"No, you can't, and that's the problem. None of us can. This is something that just takes time, and you being here won't make it any easier," Landon said.

Colleen didn't say anything to that. After spending a few long moments staring at him as he paced the porch, Colleen released a heavy sigh. "Landon, please. I'm your sister. You've been with me through my rough times, of which there have been many." Landon looked up at her. "So, let me be here for you. I promise, I can help if you'll just let me. Just tell me what's going on."

Landon's shoulders heaved when he exhaled. "Fine," he said. "One of our team members was kidnapped last year." Colleen gasped, but Landon didn't look at her. "He was tortured and dehumanized and...and sexually abused." Landon took a moment to breathe. It was never easy recounting what had happened to Elliot. "When we rescued him, he was nothing like the person we remembered. He was quiet and frightened and-and so, so skinny. He would only move around by crawling across the floor like a dog, and-and he wouldn't eat." Landon had to try hard not to cry. "He's only been back for a few weeks, and-and we've only just gotten him to start eating again. That's why I didn't think it was a good idea for you to come. He hasn't interacted with anyone outside of this house since we rescued him."

Colleen was awestruck. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was agape. Of all the things Landon could've said, she clearly wasn't expecting that. Landon pursed his lips and shrugged. "Any questions?"

Colleen glanced at the door behind Landon before fixing her gaze back on her brother. "What's his name?"

"Elliot," Landon answered. "He's twenty-two."

Colleen nodded. "I remember you telling me about him when you first joined; how you thought he was a kid at first." Landon nodded, smiling slightly at the memory. "You told me how funny and loud he was. You said he was the human equivalent of a ray of sunshine." Landon's expression turned sad once more. He nodded again. Colleen was silent for a moment. She scratched the back of her head, completely unsure of what to do. "Does he know I'm here?"

Landon nodded. "I told everyone just before you showed up. I wanted to know his thoughts on it and what he wanted to do about it."

"And?"

Landon shrugged. "He wanted to try to meet you; even though I told him that he didn't have to."

Colleen clamped a hand over her forehead and sighed. "Oh god," she mumbled. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it wasn't a good idea for me to come here."

Landon nodded. "Would've saved you a long drive and a lot of trouble if you had just listened to me when I told you we had an emergency."

Colleen ignored him. "Does his family know?"

Landon's face fell. "We are his family."

Colleen nodded. "No, I know, but I mean like his parents and siblings, if he has any. Do they know?"

Landon sighed and rubbed at the growing headache behind his eyes. "Colleen, this team, the five of us, we are his family. We're all he has."

Colleen's eyes widened. "That's so awful. That poor boy." She covered her mouth with her hand as tears flooded her eyes. "But-But maybe that's how I can help. I'm a mom; I'm naturally nurturing."

"Coll-"

"How am I supposed to leave now, knowing what all of you are dealing with? I can help."

"By doing what?"

"I don't know yet, but I want to help." Landon was silent. "Please, Landon."

Landon sighed in defeat. "Fine. Come inside and we can talk to the team about it, okay?"

Colleen's wide smile returned. "Okay."

As Landon pushed the door open, he wasn't surprised to see Karine's disappointed expression. He shrugged and looked at her in a way that said I tried.

Karine's face quickly shifted into a welcoming smile, but anyone that knew her could tell that it was forced. She, along with most of the team, approached the door to greet Colleen, but Lyra remained on the couch with Elliot. They whispered something into his ear, to which he responded by shaking his head.

Colleen smiled as she stepped through the door. Landon couldn't help but glance between his sister and the top of Elliot's head over the back of the couch. The rest of him was buried in Lyra's arms.

Karine stepped forward and held out a hand to Colleen. "You must be Landon's sister. I'm Karine."

Colleen quickly shook her hand. "Colleen. It's very nice to meet you." She giggled. "It's also a long time coming."

Karine nodded. "Agreed, but we've had a bit of a situation we've been dealing with for a while. I'm sure Landon's mentioned it to you."

Colleen nodded. "He told me all about it."

Karine glanced at Landon with an unreadable expression before she gestured to Broderick and Yvonne. "This is Yvonne and Broderick, our researcher and medic."

Colleen shook each of their hands with a large grin on her face. "It's nice to meet both of you."

Yvonne smiled back. "You as well. We've heard a lot about you. It's incredible how close you and Landon are."

Colleen nodded. "We've always been close. I had some tough times growing up, but he was always there for me." She glanced at Landon and gently nudged him with her elbow. "I couldn't ask for a better big brother."

Landon rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Don't compliment me. It doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth." Both Landon and Colleen laughed.

. . .

Elliot listened to Landon introduce his sister to the team. As much as he wanted to join them, to do what Landon wanted him to, he couldn't move.

Lyra rocked him back and forth and whispered, "You don't have to do this. We can always hide out in your room or mine, if you want. Don't push yourself."

Elliot shook his head. "I-I can d-do it," he whispered. "I can b-be good."

Lyra smiled sadly. "Okay, sunshine. Would you like me to go with you?" Elliot nodded without hesitation. Lyra gently rubbed his back. "Okay. Don't worry, I've got you."

Lyra helped both of them off of the couch and started to lead Elliot toward the group by the door. The movement caught their attention and Elliot felt the weight of everyone's eyes bore into him. He whimpered quietly as Lyra squeezed his hand.

Lyra smiled as they reached the door. They stuck their hand out and said, "I'm Lyra, the team caretaker. I've heard a lot about you."

Landon's sister gently shook Lyra's hand and said, "I'm Colleen. It's so nice to meet you." She glanced down at Elliot, who was still protectively wrapped in Lyra's embrace. "And you must be Elliot," she said. "I'm Colleen." The woman quickly stuck her hand out for Elliot to take. He didn't take it, though. Instead, he flinched away and clung to Lyra desperately.

Colleen's smile disappeared and she quickly retracted her hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to shake your hand. Landon's told me a lot about you."

Elliot didn't know what that meant. What had Landon told her?

Elliot squeaked and buried his face in Lyra's shoulder.

Colleen frowned. "All good things, I promise. He's very proud of you."

Elliot glanced up at her when she said that. Actually looking at her face was odd. She looked very similar to Landon, but with more feminine features. She had long blonde hair and kind green eyes. She wasn't as tall as Landon, but Elliot could tell she was taller than anyone else on the team. She wore a sweet smile and the tension in Elliot's shoulders started to relax, slightly.

Elliot's mouth was bone-dry, but he forced himself to speak, "H-Hello." It was barely more than a squeak, but Colleen's smile grew when he said it.

"Hello, dear. It's very nice to meet you."

"N-Nice to m-meet you t-too," Elliot forced out. Lyra rubbed his arm encouragingly. He felt pathetic. The old him had no trouble talking to strangers.

Pathetic. This is why stupid dogs shouldn't try to act human. All you're doing is reminding everyone how utterly useless you are.

Colleen glanced at Landon, who's face was a mask of sadness and pity. Elliot wondered what he'd done wrong. He thought he was being polite, but maybe Colleen was put off by how clearly broken he was. Elliot's eyes grew misty, but he forced himself to push back the urge to cry.

Go on and cry, you fucking mutt. It's what they've come to expect from you. It's the only thing you're good at. Show them how pathetic you are.

Elliot squeaked as he fought to hold back the flood of tears threatening to overcome him. His face grew red-hot as the weight of everyone's eyes fell upon him.

"Everything okay, hun?" Colleen asked, genuine concern painting her words.

Lyra rubbed Elliot's back and shoulder. "Are you okay, sunshine? Do you need to step out?"

Elliot couldn't bring himself to speak. He desperately tried to hold back the tears that threatened to push him over the edge. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just talk to Colleen like any normal human? Why couldn't he do anything he was told?

Colleen leaned over a bit so her face was level with Elliot's. "If you need some time alone, hun, that's totally okay. I completely understand. Please don't push yourself."

Lyra squeezed Elliot's shoulder. "Come on, sunshine. Let's get you to your room."

Elliot wanted to argue. He wanted to say that he could do as he was told, that he could be good, but it was too hard. He did need some time alone, but he didn't want to displease anyone. So, he simply nodded and let Lyra gently guide him to his room with a hand on his back.

Colleen Copeland has finally made an appearance! I've been looking forward to adding her in for so long and I'm so excited that she's finally been introduced! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope you like my newest character! (I will be adding her backstory onto the character backstory link on the masterlist)

Taglist:

@l-antre-des-merveilles @pigeonwhumps @nicolepascaline @burningkittypoet @whumpinggrounds @suffering-and-misery @make-them-scream-blog @honeycollectswhump @rabass @whumpdreamz @clairelsonao3 @rosewriteswhump @cepheusgalaxy @pinkraindropsfell @mj-or-say10 @considerablecolors @whatamidoingherehelpme

If anyone wants to be added to or removed from the taglist, please let me know!😊

40 notes · View notes

somuchwhatever · 4 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Got tagged by @somewhereapart, and I figured y'all may be sick of seeing me just post fic so here ya go.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

305,612

3. What fandoms do you write for?

AO3 tells me I've written for Battlestar Galactica, Buffy, General Hospital, Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: OC, Lie To Me, Stargate: Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, and The West Wing. And I honestly can't think of any others outside of just ficlets I've tossed into the wild over the years.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Flinktober 2022 (EO, SVU/OC)

i remember skies (EO, SVU/OC)

gala (EO, SVU/OC)

bizarre love triangle (EO, SVU/OC)

Chautauqua (EO, SVU/OC)

I did not include one that was cowritten with a bunch of other people because I will always assume the kudos are for them.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

As often as possible. If someone takes the time to comment, I want them to know that i care enough to acknowledge and thank them for that kindness and effort. Especially when I write mostly for a fandom where I've seen people specifically state that they will read works but NOT comment on them as some sort of punishment for whatever random/imaginary fandom sins the writer whose free content they are enjoying has committed. That's just dumb and unkind, so I make the effort to let people know their comments are appreciated, even if it takes weeks to circle back.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm. There are several chapters in the first flink posting that would qualify, but I'm going to go with my largest Sam/Jack (SG-1) fic, Gravity Sings. It's hard to pretend it's not angsty when you've literally killed off half the planet.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm. Not really sure. I'm a sucker for fluffy endings, so I tend to write them quite a bit. Maybe waltz or Chautauqua?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally, but I shut it down quickly. If you come up in someone's space where someone is providing you free entertainment and be rude? Don't expect a pass from me about it. The scroll bar isn't difficult to use, and neither is the back button. I use it frequently on poorly-written works or things that may be well-written but just aren't my thing. What I don't do is sling entitlement issues around demanding things be written to my satisfaction (unless you employ my beta services, in which case, you asked for it!). :D

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I never really did prior to the first flink experiment, and I created that experiment purely to practice writing smut. Well, I take that back. @rgrdsalxndra would be the first to remind me I'd often cockblock Elliot and Olivia by having them dream-smutting without real-life release. But I started that project with the express purpose of getting better and more comfortable with writing smut, so I'm making that the hinge point.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Because SVU and OC are different shows, I write them regularly. But if you mean out-of-universe crossovers, I've only really written one, R.E.M. (SGA, BSG, Buffy). It was based on a prompt from an LJ friend, "Elizabeth Weir, Kara Thrace, and Buffy Summers walk into a bar..."

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware. There are much better people out there to steal from. Also, I always assume if something is similar to what I've written, it's because fandom truly does become a hivemind at some point. Nothing new under the sun and all.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware. If I had to guess, I'd say Gravity Sings would be the most likely candidate since SG-1 fandom is probably the most global and that fic has been around much longer than any other likely candidates.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Wrote Wet Dream with much better smut writers than myself in a group chat, and a bunch of us in SG-1 fandom way back in the day once built an SG-1 AU loosely based on The Big Bang Theory called The House That Jack Built, and I have several entries in that little universe.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

How does anyone pick this??? I love them all for different reasons. I will say EO has a grip on me nobody else ever has, but then they have that 25 year slow burn that is just absolutely and sickly delicious.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Glazed and Fired (SGA) was originally the first part of a 5 Things fic that got away from me, and I had always intended to go back and finish it but eventually just put it away for good. I fully intend to finish my others (Skies, I'm looking at you).

16. What are your writing strengths?

Grammar. Economy of language (this is also sometimes a weakness). Getting into the head of characters who are typically very closed off.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I feel my writing is way too mechanical. I'm also still not comfortable writing smut. I always walk around with a sense of imposter syndrome with my writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm literally one class shy of a degree in French, and I had to write many upper level term papers in that language, but let me assure you I have zero plans to ever write in another language. I sincerely applaud those of you who do.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stargate SG-1

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Geez. It probably changes regularly, and I'm hesitant to say because my faves are never anyone else's. all i ever wanted (a rather dark Elliot-centric fic) holds a very dear spot in my heart just because of how my muse just grabbed a keyboard and churned it out. This is not a popular opinion, and hardly anyone read it, but I still love it a lot. And just because it was the first fic I wrote that was widely recc'd, I have a soft spot for Things Not Dreamed (SG-1), a Sam & Jack & Daniel fic written from Daniel's POV.

tagging in a no-pressure way (and sorry for any double tags):

@morethanwords229, @whatbecomesofyou, @samwrites99, @rgrdsalxndra, @shut-upjohn, and anyone else who wants to do it!

#fanfic #ao3 #memes #writing #writer stuff #sg 1 #buffy the vampire slayer #lie to me #l&o svu #law and order oc #law and order svu #battlestar galactica #stargate atlantis #stargate sg1 #west wing

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hiwelcometothemonstersancturary · 7 days

Note

How was the Poppy doll able to be so intelligent for its time?

Elliot's experimentated a lot, and he made a device using the results of his work. That's also why the insides of Poppy dolls look so fleshy/organic, but they are not made from real people! Unless you count Elliot's sanity while trying to understand how to make the smartest doll ever so Poppy (the real kid) could always have someone to talk to her as an unethical sacrifice, the dolls are pretty okay.

#poppy playtime #poppy worldwide #save everyone au #ask tag #elliot ludwig

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bbygirl-aemond · 9 months

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I was reading the past Lucemond discord. I was wondering if you had an issue when the characters are aged up?

i actively like it! i'm not personally a fan of fics that turn lucerys into this uwu submissive weak ooc bean just because he's a bottom, but that's not inherent to the ship itself, and there's nothing wrong with people who do like that- it's just not personally for me. the only real hard boundary i personally have is not shipping irl minors, especially in explicit situations. lucemond is especially squicky to me in this regard because lucerys's actor is a minor; he's not just like an animated character where there are no irl humans or minors involved.

but i have no problem with aged-up lucemond fics, or art that doesn't use elliot as a reference for lucerys. i'm a multishipper and a proshipper, so i'm usually chill about pairings in general. lucemond are both assholes but they're both sensitive in different ways and ofc have tons of individual and collective baggage. the idea of the two families mending because of the new generation choosing to unlearn their parents' hostility is beautiful. what's not to like?

people in this fandom have an interesting habit of claiming you aren't allowed to like a ship unless you ship the characters in one very specific way. it's very reminiscent of the "if you think X is a top then you don't count as a real fan because he's clearly a bottom!" discourse from earlier fandom spaces. i ran into this issue with helaemond since i don't believe that aemond fathered her kids, and i ran into this issue with lucemond since i don't personally prefer some of the more prevalent ways they're depicted. there are multiple ways to enjoy things, folks; having a preference isn't a dig at anyone who has a different preference; and i promise everyone will be happier if we can just accept that and focus on the things we do have in common.

#moral of the story: having different headcanons doesn't mean two people can't both like a character or ship #aged up lucemond has SO much goddamn potential like come ON #ask #asks #answered #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #luke velaryon #lucerys strong #luke strong #lucerys #luke #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #fab

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inviouswriting · 10 months

Text

Warning

Normally I am not filling my blogs with drama and things unless it is highly important.

I want to phrase this off the top that this is IMPORTANT for the fanbases of Genshin Impact and HSR in particular because Vulpinevoice is starting to make audios in HSR and I have readers of that fanbase no doubt. So I want you all to be informed and warned about this man.

https://twitter.com/crypticcolubrid/status/1678299146229362689?s=20 This is a full document post of his past misdeeds. He is a dangerous individual, he’s a stalker, and has broken into this individuals home attempting to SA them. I am a huge advocate against domestic abuse, I’m helping this person and her group of friends be heard. So if you are a patreon of Vulpine please do not support him, REPORT him like Elliot Gindi was done. He does not deserve a platform and to take advantage of us for our happy fanbases and prey on that fanbase. He said that he was quitting patreon to stop this chance of happening, he broke that promise to me he’d stop so here I am going full tilt on him to hold him accountable for his actions too.

https://twitter.com/VirumVelstar/status/1669429147557416969?s=20 Other docu of his cyber activities with personal friends, and an instance where he did groom a minor.

https://twitter.com/wollemmi/status/1670050695284662279?s=20 These are just the tip of the iceberg of the people he has hurt. There is on count at least 30+ other people he has hurt. He has either manipulated someone or harassed them into silence.

He’s starting to make content for Star Rail and I want to protect the creators and consumers of that fanbase from getting wrapped up in his circle.

I know this isn’t my normal posts, but this is important to me as someone who supported him and watched him prey on my friends. He is dangerous, he is a classic narcissist where I have experience dealing with them. He needs to be deplatformed and I cannot STRESS enough the damage he has done to precious people to me.

I wouldn’t go so hard if this wasn’t something big and using my platform to spread this word. Be cautious and please do not get wrapped up in his web. Spare your money too, please.

I use to be a patreon to him and knew him personally. He’s very mentally abusive, I’ve been subjected to some of these mental attacks myself. He’s very good at manipulating people too. So please protect yourselves from him.

#honkai star rail #dan heng #genshin impact #zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #diluc #genshin impact diluc #Kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #vulpinevoice

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away-ward · 1 year

Text

Make No Apologies, part 3

Master List

Emory

Present

Was I excited to be told I was explicitly requested on a project? Yes. And no. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it’s always a compliment.

The excitement turned to stone-cold fear when I learned of the location. Thunder Bay was the last place I wanted to be. Nothing good happened to me here. And walking into the conference room proved it.

If I could get out of it, I would have. Short of dying or quitting, there was nothing I could do to get out of working on the project. That told me everything I needed to know about who made the request. Only so many names out of Thunder Bay could hold that much sway in California.

“So, this is home?” Elise asked as we packed up our stuff at the end of the day. We had completed the designs for the new gazebo and sent it over for them to approve in the morning.

“This is home,” I confirmed, shouldering my leather laptop bag.

Byron came around my side. “Has it changed much?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been outside yet.” We arrived and came here directly from the airport in Meridian. I couldn’t look at anything as we drove in, too on edge to see what had changed.

And what hadn’t.

We trailed behind Brett and Elliot to the SUV that was provided. We were all staying at a hotel in the area – one of the Torrance’s, no doubt. That made me nervous, like living in a pit of snakes. But I’d rather be there than at the house.

“Where’s the best place to get a bite around here?” Byron asked.

I laughed. “Sticks.”

Elise made a face, joking that it sounded like a dive bar. “Close,” I answered. I didn’t want to tell them I hardly ever went there or about my life before San Fran. My experiences wouldn’t match up with what they were expecting to hear about small-town life.

They continued to ask about the area, wanting to explore it and get a feel for the real Thunder Bay, their home for the next month or so. I held firm in my resolve to stay in my hotel room. No chance was I leaving the security of four solid walls and a door between me and them.

I wasn’t dumb enough to believe this was about ‘honoring the town’ and ‘staying true to Thunder Bay.’ This was Will’s doing. His threat hung over my head for years, and he was finally cashing it in.

He looked good. I hated him for that. He always had one of those faces. Nice. Attractive. The years of drugs, booze, and girls did nothing to detract from that, damn him. He looked healthy, actually. And the muscles...even beneath the suit jacket, I could see the outline of round biceps and pecs. He didn’t play sports any longer, as far as I knew. Unless the occasional round of pool or a pick-up basketball game counted as a sport.

That’s just what good genetics get you. Good genetics, and a whole bunch of daddy's money.

/-/-/

At the hotel, we dived up the room keys. Elise and I would share a double, Byron got a single, and Brett and Elliot shared the penthouse suite with two separate bedrooms. The suite would be our temporary headquarters when we weren’t working at Damon’s firm.

Damon’s firm. Ugh. When did that happen? He never once showed an ounce of interest in design and construction, but suddenly, he became a big name in the field. I have nearly a decade of work behind me, but he gets to start his own firm within a few years of getting out of prison. Okkkaaay.

Not that I'm jealous. Not at all. I just want to tear the whole thing to the ground and get the hell out of Dodge. Maybe then they'd get the message to leave me alone.

Elise and I settled in our room. I deposited my luggage on the bed farthest from the door, leaving her one closest to the bathroom. She spent more time in there, anyway.

“You sure you don’t want to come out,” she asked, freshening her makeup in the mirror in the room as I unpacked my suitcase. She’d already changed out of her professional clothes. I was planning to get straight into my pajamas.

“No, you guys go.”

She gave me a sad but understanding smile. The same one she always gave me when I didn’t join them back home. What can I say, I’m still not big on joining.

Once she left, I changed, pulling on my cotton shorts and matching long-sleeve top. October wasn’t cold, exactly, but it could get chilly out. Setting up at the desk in the room, I pulled up my laptop and continued working on some of the other projects I had started before being dragged away.

I was in the middle of a design when my phone screen lit up with a message. I swallowed. There, like, three people it could be, and none of them I wanted to talk to. When I finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and check the message, I saw it was from a blocked number.

I relaxed. Only one person called me from a blocked number. My eyes scanned the empty room before opening the text message.

‘I want you’

My breath came out heavy through my nose, and I ground my teeth together. Images of lying with my back on the carpet floor in his office, his pants pulled down just enough, and a week of rug rash for ten minutes of pleasure flashed through my head.

I put an end to that. Leaving San Francisco didn’t change anything.

Putting the phone back down without answering, I tried returning to work. The screen lit up again, and again I exhaled, glaring at the device.

‘It’s going to be a long four weeks'

‘Stop.’ I shot back.

The phone rang. When I didn’t answer, Brett left a message. Against my better judgment, I pressed play.

A heavy breath. “Ems," he cooed, and I grimaced at the nickname.

We were once comfortable, Brett and me. It was fun. Our arrangement was easy. He was separated from his wife; I wanted no strings. But then he returned to her, and it no longer made sense.

He only pulled this shit on trips now, as rare as they were. And was never because he wanted me, really. He wanted quick and easy, and at least with me, there were no expectations.

Brett called again. Rolling my lips, fighting with myself, I answer, pressing the phone to my ear. I allow my silence to ring loudly over the line.

“I’m sorry,” he said first, and I almost fell for it. “But four whole weeks, Em. I’m already going crazy over here.”

“Call your wife,” I told him.

“Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, a decent human?”

“I said I was sorry, okay.”

I shook my head. That didn’t make it better because he was still asking. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. Something about being in Thunder Bay made that one betrayal too far.

“Let me see you,” Brett continued. “Meet me in the restaurant downstairs. We’ll have dinner and put it on the firm’s card. No strings.”

I didn’t even need to think about it. “No,” I said, hanging up. I put the phone face down and returned to the laptop, but my motivation had disappeared.

Closing it, I pushed away from the desk. The window was closed so that I couldn’t see the lights of the town. It had only been two hours since Elise left, so I didn’t expect her any time soon. I hoped Thunder Bay was treating her well. Better than it had ever treated me, at least.

Laying across the bed, I flipped through the TV channels, looking for anything to fill the silence. There was always a movie I could pass the time with. Finding something, I stretched out and got comfortable, realizing this would be my life for the next few weeks, and I might as well get used to it.

I zoned into the movie, finally relaxing by putting Brett and everyone else out of my head. It was perfect until a knock at the door during an intense action scene had me jumping in my spot. Grabbing the remote, I muted the TV and waited. It could be anyone – Elise, having forgotten her card. That would be the best case. Actually, the best case would be if someone had the wrong room.

Brett would be the most logical option. I hadn’t looked at my phone since putting it down. He probably came to see if he could persuade me in person.

Another knock. Three slow, intentional raps against the wood. I slid silently from the bed and approached, standing on my toes to see through the peephole. All I got was black. Whoever they were, they were smart enough to hold their finger over the viewfinder.

The possibilities were dwindling, as were my options. I knew I should keep the door closed and hope he went away.

“Emory.” My guts twisted at the sound of his voice, and my breath froze in my lungs. He hadn’t said anything during the meeting or after. The hold that just one word had over me was insane.

I pulled open the door, a shot of heat flooding my body at the sight of Will. He leaned forward, one arm braced on the door frame above his head. The suit jacket he wore earlier was gone, leaving him in black slacks and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck and the sleeves rolled. In the light of the hall, I was able to see the tattoos that spanned across the slight opening and disappeared on both sides of his collarbone. On his arms, too, were a collection of images and words that I couldn't decipher at the moment.

“Expecting someone else?”

I held out a hand out a hand to stop him. “Will. You shouldn’t be here.”

He moved off the frame, stepping into the room. “Byron or Brett, maybe? Both?” I backed away as he shut the door, closing us inside. “Be honest with me; how many have there been over the years.”

A part of me was thankful he came in angry and aggressive. Will being mean was something I could handle. It was when he was nice that I stumbled.

“Why,” I taunted, “you want to swap stats?”

One dark eyebrow lifted, he drifted forward with a calm ease. “Be honest for once in your life, and I might be a little forgiving.”

“You can’t be serious,” I scoffed.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea.”

“While we’re on the topic of body counts, how’s Heidi? Bet she's just loving the life of a trophy wife.”

He followed me in the limited space until I’d been backed up to the bed I claimed as mine. I refused to sit, to let him tower over me even more. So even as he got close enough that my chest brushed the front of his shirt, I didn’t lower.

Satisfaction sparked in his green eyes. “Oh, she’s good. She takes real good care of me. But I’m tired of blonde.” He took a lock of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers and thumb. “Answer me, Emory.”

My stomach dropped. “Is this all you are? After all this time.” I couldn’t believe it. He’s out of prison. He’s got a job. His life is back on track. Why had he waited all this time? “Please tell me there’s more to you than this.”

“I told you. You’re going to pay back what you owe.”

I kept my glare trained on him, even as I felt his hand brush my shoulder and the skin of my neck. He stopped at my nape. I looked into his eyes, and for half a second, I let myself believe he’d let me go. Then his eyes hardened, fist tightened, and he hauled me forward until I could feel his breath against my lips. Growling, he pushed us back. We both fell on the bed, me under him; his knees braced my thighs.

“How many others have had you like this?” He breathed on my neck. “You always had so many excuses, but only for me, huh? Not for anyone else.”

He still didn’t understand how hard it was. “Will, get off!” I shoved at him. It made no difference. His lips connected to my jaw as he moved over me, and I had to bite back a moan at the fire that lit in my veins.

With one hand still around my neck, he moved around my face to my mouth, taking my bottom lip between his teeth; his other hand went to my hip and pulled at my cotton shorts. “You told me your ass was up for grabs, remember? So what’s the problem now? Still ashamed of me all these years later?”

No. Not of you.

“I did everything," he growled. I gasped as his hand got to my bare ass, grabbing it tight as he moved my body to his liking. “I left you alone. I partied my heart and brain out. I got clean. I’m big and powerful, just like you said I’d be. We did everything your way for ten years. Tell me why I can't have my turn.”

“Will, I-” My breath hitched.

He stopped, staring down at me, lips tightened and brow drawn. I could see the anger on the surface and underneath that, all the pain. As if disconnected from the rest of my body, I watched my hand lift toward his cheek. As if my touch could soothe away that pain.

I can’t solve his problem. I am his problem. We're each other's problem.

I pulled back before my palm could touch him.

“Afraid to face the mess you created?”

Yes.

He pushed himself off, and it felt like I was floating without his weight pressing into me. Stupidly, I missed the warmth of his body.

After catching my breath, I pulled myself up to meet Will’s glare.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” he said. “You’re going to pack your bags and leave with me.”

I snorted, ready to tell him he could get fucked, but he continued.

“And for the next four weeks, you will do everything I wanted. Do you remember?”

Everything he wanted? I forced a lump down my throat. Of course, I remembered. “Everything?” I asked. Some things just weren’t going to work according to his plans. Can't have a baby in four weeks.

“Four weeks won't make up for the nearly three years I lost, but it’s a good start.”

I didn’t move. He couldn’t be serious. What was the idea? We’d play house for a while, and all would be better? We couldn’t fix this. We’d only make it worse and possibly burn down the town while we’re at it.

One look at him told me he was deadly serious, leaving me with no doubt that he wasn't leaving here without me.

I gritted my teeth. It didn't matter that there was enough blame to go around. If one of us was going to burn, it would be me.

But jokes on him. I would making no apologies.

/-/-/

Note: So I know this probably isn't what was expected. I tried to mess with Will's motivation a bit to make it less about what Emory did and more about what he was "owed" [Insert Eye Roll], but also keep it true to their reuniting.

There was originally a fourth part that was much lighter and more cute but still featured a jealous Will, set after the four weeks when they'd finally gotten together, but it was giving more even more difficulty. I figured I'd rather get this up and work on that when I'm up for it than keep holding off. Who knows if that part will ever get done.

As always, I appreciate all those who took the time to read, and am looking forward to any thoughts and opinions you feel like sharing. If you noticed any mistakes or typos, feel free to mention.

Thank you!

Edit:

Part 4

#devil's night series stuff #emory scott #will grayson iii #willemmy #my fic #au #requested #multiple chatpers #devil's night series

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pinheadsboyfriend · 4 months

Text

a perverse enamourment [part 6] — pinhead / self insert [ao3 link]

Elliot was certainly Crawford's first love, though they were well aware that the former had taken many lovers before them. He was older than them, more confident and self-assured, conscious of the appeal and allure of his own arrogance. And while they were excited, if not nervous, to recreate just about every scene they'd ever had the displeasure of witnessing in a Hallmark film, they didn't like Elliot enough to hope he was their last love, too. Not yet, at least. Despite their appetite for connection, Crawford did not delude themselves into naivety, and understood that Elliot likely felt the same.

He was still a novelty, really; they'd finally given in and purchased the glimmering snowglobe that caught their attention every so often from behind the store window - it was just a matter of whether or not they thought the snowglobe was tacky in the end. Of course, one can't politely put a man in a cardboard box, tape it up, and take him to the local Goodwill.

Unfortunately, the return policies people had were a bit more punishing.

Elliot knew well that Crawford had never been loved before, even if they hadn't said it to him outright. Between the bewilderment they displayed toward any proximity with them that was closer than what one would tactfully keep with a stranger, and the acute humiliation they failed to hide when trying to interlace their fingers with his, it wasn't particularly hard to tell. He hadn't either, really, unless you counted his many post-war hedonistic indulgences or the occasional man he'd paid or met in an alleyway for a fuck or two, which, he did not. There were some that lingered in his mind here and there, but there was never any time, and they were hardly alive for long enough. The hostile climate didn't allow for many opportunities, either.

Unlike Crawford, however, he did not so obviously crave it. He found that a bit pathetic of them, the helpless romantic that quietly leaves their heart out upon the street, waiting for someone to come and pick it up without putting in the effort required to make a connection. Wide, brown eyes, practically indistinguishable from black, incessantly flickering over his form when they thought he wasn't looking — it would have been flattering had they concealed their worry and suspicion better. Yet, despite their inexperience and neuroticism, they were accessible - pliable, soft, masculinely androgynous, and at least marginally attracted to him.

Occasionally, when he found Crawford particularly draining, perhaps as a reminder of what he was tolerating them for, his mind conjured an image of their muscle, divaricated by his own hand. Elliot pictures the many layers visible in the meat - the skin, the dermis, the yellow sticky fat of the subcutaneous tissue, the fibrous muscle. He sees them clutching at their wounds on the bed, eyes slick with tears. Arousal ensues, but so too does guilt.

Romance fit them both very poorly, like unflattering and constricting fabric. They had stiffly agreed one night, next to the Seine, to try anyway.

Crawford shifts uncomfortably, sitting on the floor in front of the window at Elliot's flat. He had extended an awkward invitation they were too timid to deny. Elliot sits on his mattress and thumbs through a book picked up earlier that day that he hoped would be more interesting.

"You can see the Eiffel Tower from here."

"What was that?", Elliot asks automatically for clarification, looking at Crawford overtop delicate rectangular frames that made him look rather smart.

"Oh", Crawford reddens, turning quickly to face him, "I just said you can see the Eiffel Tower from here."

"But you already know that. It's just - a really pretty view. You're lucky," they quickly add.

Elliot laughs at that, folding the top corner of the page he'd stopped on as a bookmark.

"I'm lucky?"

Crawford didn't know all of it, yet. No one had elected to tell them the disconcerting details of the prior position he had in hell, but he was sure that if any of his associates found out they were seeing each other, they would demand that he did, or would perhaps do so themselves.

They eye him quietly. "Maybe not. If you really were lucky, you'd have a bedframe."

Elliot laughs through his nose and leans against the wall in his undershirt. His book sits face down on his crossed legs, and his glasses slowly begin to slip off of his face. He looks very pretty like this.

He reaches a hand up to remove his glasses.

"Hey - don't."

Elliot freezes, curious. He adjusts his glasses, placing them rightly on his nose, if not putting them away. His eyebrows twitch, a wordless inquiry.

Crawford uncrosses their legs and shuffles a few feet on their hands and knees to be next to him. The position allows them about a head's worth of leverage, and they carefully cup the sides of his face, tilting it upward. He allows this, and feels the tips of their fingers quivering against his cheeks, but only just. He waits for them to say something.

"Your hands are cold."

"I don't remember ever liking anyone with blue eyes before." It's said quietly, out of near reverent admiration. They wanted to see him weep more than they've ever wanted anything in the world. Something feels like it's lodged in their throat. They feel like they're dying.

"I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Crawford presses their lips against his with torturous caution. Still, this kiss is firmer than the last, which was firmer than the last, which was firmer than the last, and so on. Their thumb skims over the corner of his lip, and his hand sits comfortably at the bend of their waist. Their other hand finds the back of his neck, and they squeal in surprise when they feel a hand grabbing a fistful of their sweater, yanking them closer. The heat rising to their face is overwhelming, and they can feel gooseflesh quickly erupt over their arms.

Elliot slips two fingers underneath the edge of the fabric, but pauses, waiting for a reply. Crawford offers their assent by moving so that his palm touches their stomach, and shudders pitably at the contact. He slides both hands over their bare, warm torso, and feels alive. Momentarily he dismays at the barrier of skin, unable to explore them in the way he desired, but there was a gift on his lap, now, and he wasn't going to allow himself to be distracted. Crawford parts from him, and partially out of a desire to avoid eye contact, nestles themselves into the crook of his neck.

"I like you, at least," quietly thrumming behind his ear.

"You were doubting?" He rubs a loose lock of their hair between his fingers.

"You aren't?"

He doesn't reply, electing instead to breathe them in.

#pinhead #APE #e/c #hell priest / elliot #self shipping

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jellysxtarr · 1 year

Note

Hi,can you do Elliot reaction to Reader hugging or saying "i love you"to them?but if you don't have times,pls don't do my request!

Of course I can!

I did both incase if that's how you wanted it

Aside from that I love Elliott with all my heart, they are AMAZING, I'm such a simp for them it's incredibly

Elliott with a gn! S/O who hugs and says "I love you" to them

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff (make sure to get a appointment at the dentist!), established relationship (?), little sad Elliott moment :(

Hugging

✧ Elliott themselve are quite open with touch, hugs being one of them. Though, getting hugs from their S/O can be a little different, the hugs they would receive from you would suddenly feel tender, making their chest feel warm on the inside.

✧ of course, those hugs do get returned, they can't just leave their S/O with one-sided affection, that would leave you empty! Must say, they would return those hugs with a smile etched so lovely, you can see that they truly appreciate it.

✧ they probably aren't a big fan of surprise hugs, much to them almost not leaving Emmett's side and suddenly getting surprised by someone none other than their S/O, can catch them off guard fast.

✧ Elliott would stumble a little while looking behind themselves to see who it is, only to find out it's you who gave a sudden surprise hug, their shocked expression turns softer, scolding you in a friendly manner to give them a heads up especially if its in their work place, would be risky to almost fall if a train is nearby.

✧ the only way you can make them fall is if you tackle them into a hug, they can't keep their legs stable enough and end up falling to the ground, with you following right behind (poor Emmett if he sees this all escalate).

✧ on the other hand, the hugs they would probably enjoy would be the classical hug or reverse hugs (also known as back hugs), it gives them a warm and comforting feeling, the need to push you away hurts for them, it might make them feel bad but they can't do it, they feel calm if it's you who gives them these hugs, making it unable to push you away even if they wanted to.

✧ rarely occurring hugs would be a long hug and a spin hug, after seeing each other for so long they can't help but either want to stay in the hug for more than 3 seconds or feel the need to spin you around after not seeing you for so long, those hugs are something Elliott cherishes, which why those hugs are rarely given.

✧ either way, they're happy with any hug you give them, especially if it's ones they prefer! Unless is a surprise or a tackle hug, they really get surprised by them and lose their stability.

⊰ — ♡ — ⊱

I love you's

✧ the iconic 3 words, something that Elliott would also cherish whenever you say it, it feels nice hearing it, even if it's sudden or expected they can't help but smile whenever they think about it. Someone like you, their S/O truly loves them, it's really something special to them.

✧ their own "I love you's" aren't as random, but are said at the right moment and right time, even though they may or may not say it as much as you do, but they mean it by heart. Even if you want to hear them say it more, they can't help but only say it when they truly mean it.

✧ the first time Elliott heard you say "I love you" to them, made them feel happy, with a small hint of blush making it across their face, a smile would be visible on their face as well.

✧ they also share their own "I love you" in return, they can't leave you empty if it's only you who said it, wouldn't that just make them look bad?

✧ they don't mind if you say it more than they can count, it gives them them a warm feeling, they are surprised you aren't even tired of saying the same 3 words to them, but it's not like they mind, it's their own S/O with their own mind.

✧ yet again, Elliott loves you endlessly, even the thought of you makes them smile. You love them and they love you, what else could they wish for aside from their brother? And thus, like how they never want to leave their twin's side, they never wish to leave your side either.

*some of these are based off the official discord server, to give Elliott the more canonical appeal I went with "The more I desire something, the more of push it away." (Which doesn't have to be sexual dear readers) from the recent "whips-and-whatnot" post.

#elliott x reader #dear dere #deardere #dear dere x reader

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justapurrcat · 2 years

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Tiptoeing Around Your Heart | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!ballet dancer!reader

Synopsis: A secret ballet audition brings together a former Billy Elliot and a (possible) future Giselle. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3.840k

Warnings: English not being my first language, me writing about ballet while not being a dancer, mutual pining but they’re both just idiots.

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: I usually don’t take requests, but I just couldn’t resist this one:

“can you do a fic where tom helps y/n train for her ballet audition”

You could consider this an offspring of Giselle, sweet Giselle and this other cute little jewel both by the lovely @thollandsdarling (I don’t know if this ask was actually addressed to her, honestly, but Mags, if you wanna write it too, I would absolutely love to read your own version of it 💜).

“Remind me again why you asked me to help you out with this”, Tom sighed in fake irritation as he stretched his arms. At first, he had tried to keep up with your exercises, but after seeing all of the crazy bending they involved, he had quickly given up.

After all, he was only supposed to give you a hand, which probably meant holding your waist while you were doing pirouettes and simple things like that, so he had opted for a lighter warm-up.

Fuck, he hadn’t felt that similar to a piece of wood ever since that day he was getting ready to shoot a sequence with Willem Defoe, but in the humiliating tragedy – okay, maybe he was exaggerating a little – he had discovered a silver lining to it. Not doing much meant he could look at you more, and look at you more he did.

The way you moved was nothing short of entrancing, your flexible body conveying both gracefulness and strength, every muscle being perfectly under control, allowing you and your flawless lines to paint an invisible, yet mesmerising art in the air, your limbs shaping themselves like you had no sharp angles whatsoever.

You didn’t even know it, but God, you practically had him wrapped around your finger. And he was going to lose his mind when you would actually start dancing. Just like he did whenever he showed up to your shows. Always in the front row, of course.

Hand on the barre, you leaned back, grinning at him from upside-down when he entered your field of vision. “Because I need to try some steps with a partner”, you told him, not a trace of struggle in your voice, as if you were sipping a cup of tea.

Tom was one of the two people knowing about this audition, the other being your dance teacher who had suggested you’d give it a try. Consequently, that made him the only person you had told. The only person with whom you had shared that information.

Unless it was necessary, you had never been keen on telling people about something important until it was done. Exams, medical visits, auditions… all things that already tended to put a lot of pressure on you. Having the responsibility of people’s expectations weighing on your shoulders would only stress you further.

You hated it, because it could make you sound ungrateful, but even having them cheering for you would cause you to get anxious, the fear of disappointing them clinging to you like an enthusiasm-sucking parasite. So, you preferred to deliver the news after everything was over, negative feelings taken off.

With Tom, though… with Tom it was different. Everything was different.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, you would’ve entrusted him with your life. Yet there you were, able to tell him everything but the things you were dying to confess.

“Plus, revising a bit of ballet wouldn’t kill you”, you added with a shrug, trying to shake those feelings off of you as you straightened your back in one fluid motion.

Read the room, y/n. Read the fucking ballet room.

You moved away from the barre, going to sit on the floor and Tom pretended to scoff and roll his eyes when you looked at him, earning a little chuckle from you. But in reality, he almost couldn’t tear his gaze from you. His teacher had told him once that a good dancer can be recognized even from the way they walk on stage and bloody hell was your walk fucking amazing. The elegant sway of your hips, the muscles of your back… he was on the verge of drooling like a Saint Bernard.

Tom shook his head, mentally slapping himself and decided it was the moment for a pause. He knelt down, reaching for his backpack to grab his bottle of water, but the damn mirror wasn’t going to give him a break.

He had his back turned to you, and it was the same for you, but he still witnessed every single moment of it. With his throat running dry, he watched you lay down on your back, holding your legs up and then slowly parting them. And you didn’t stop, no, you kept going and going, until they were literally touching the floor.

Holy shit, how could you even open your legs like that? And why the fuck was it so easy for Tom to imagine himself between them, hovering over you to brush his lips over yours, as his hands caressed your inner thighs, teasingly getting closer and closer to your–no. No, no, no, no, no.

He had to think of something else. He needed to.

“First of all, fuck you”, he said without thinking, the words leaving his mouth probably surprising him more than you. But oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Second of all, fuck you.”

You sat up, turning around and locking gazes with his reflection, a silent question shaping itself in your raised eyebrows.

Tom pouted like a baby, letting go of his water – he wasn’t really that thirsty, it was more… metaphorical – and standing up, finally facing you. “I’ve never been able to stretch like that, not even in my Billy Elliot days of glory”, he clarified.

You got up as well, flashing him an amused expression. “Relax, movie-star: you won’t have to do much”, you replied, your light-hearted tone carrying a sweet note of reassurance. “Just watch and tell me if it looks good to you.”

“And what about the couple steps?”, he wondered, tilting his head to the side a bit. To be blatantly honest, that was the part he looked forward to the most. He absolutely adored seeing you dance, you were a literal joy for the eyes. But being your partner, he would’ve had the occasion to hold you close, to be loved by you, even if it was just pretense…

“I just need you to help me with my balance and to move me around a bit”, you explained, barely holding back a dreamy sigh at the image of you, nestled in his strong arms, that flashed through your mind due to your own sentence…

“I’ll do the rest”, you continued, dismissing it immediately. “And if you’re comfortable we can try a couple of lifts. Not complicated stuff, we’re not taking risks.”

Tom nodded along, understanding what you meant with that. It wasn’t that you didn’t think he could be capable of lifting you, because he was, but despite his classical training, he had little to no experience as a porteur, and had things gone wrong, he could’ve injured himself. “Mh. I can do it.”

“Great, come here”, you invited, beckoning him closer and then guiding him towards the centre of the room. “Let’s try this with no music, and while I’m still not sweaty.”

“Charming”, he commented, winking at you, completely ignorant that your heart skipped a beat at that simple action, and you simply smiled and glanced at the ceiling, forcing out a little breathy laugh, no witty comeback coming in your favour.

But now you couldn’t have time for that. Now it was the moment to concentrate. So you cleared your throat and switched to your professional instructor mode, explaining to your partner the steps, the context, the story, the meaning behind each gesture, even the tiniest details of the little fragment you were going to practise. It was only a minute, literally nothing when compared to the full ballet, but it was a dense one – at least for the performer of Giselle –, almost entirely on pointe, and it contained one of your favourite bits, right in the first few seconds.

Tom listened to you religiously, like the most attentive student, the smug spark in his eyes now totally vanished, replaced by a stubborn determination. He wasn’t gonna let you down. When he gave you the green light and a thumbs up, you took a few steps back, getting ready to start, to let Giselle take over.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

You made your way towards him and he did the same, your right hands reaching out and intertwining with each other, being held against your chests, as you went on point and rested your head on his shoulder, your free arms wrapping around the other’s body in a tender embrace.

With your hand above his heart, Tom’s eyes fluttered shut, and he breathed in your delicate scent of lilies and jasmine, savouring the feeling of completeness your presence in his arms gave him.

However, the ballet told a precise story, and this was nothing but a sweet, wistful moment, a glimpse of calm the two lovers had managed to rip from the unforgiving course of time… and it wasn’t destined to last. For that reason, after an instant Tom unwillingly took a step back, and that was your cue.

You slowly lifted your leg, compensating it by leaning back with your torso, your hand secured in his being the sole support for your balance.

There it was: this, along with the hug, was your favourite part. It wasn’t particularly complicated, but you liked the idea of the joined hands being the centre of it all, like both Giselle and Albrecht were combining their pleas, pouring them in an affectionate touch. There could be so much behind an apparently insignificant thing and it fascinated you beyond words.

Tom didn’t flinch. Not even a little, no matter how violently the fear of messing up was flooding his veins with liquid ice.

When you came back from it, you turned around, still standing on one leg, and he was there to support you, firmly grabbing your waist with one hand, just like you had told him.

There was not much left for him to do, the next steps involving you arching your back and then leaning forward, your raised leg coming to form a perfect continuous line with the one you were supporting yourself on. So, he simply took you in in all your melancholic glory, as your upper body ondulated so effortlessly, reminding him of flowers being caressed by the breeze.

When you stood straight again, on two feet again – even if not for long – Tom’s free hand joined the other around your waist, and he gingerly helped you turn around, handling you with such attention and care that it felt like a soft cuddle.

In the middle of that motion, you switched your supporting leg, and proceeded to bend forward once again, only with a subtle variation to it. Now, your pose resembled the one you would’ve adopted while executing a gran jeté, only it was like you had been frozen in the middle of the jump and rotated in vertical, with Tom holding you up and moving you like you were a little figure spinning inside of a silent music box.

You stood up as he came to a halt, but then immediately leaned forward again, you were trying to reach out, sheltering yourself in another, this time invisible, hug. And then, Tom began walking backwards, and you had no choice but to stand you up and abandon yourself to him, following his lead like it was the most natural thing ever – like the two of you had been carved into existence to dance with each other –, your little tiptoe steps keeping up with his strides until he stopped.

The segment was approaching its conclusion. Still keeping a hand around your waist, Tom mimicked your movement as you raised an arm and slightly arched your back. That transitioned in you repeating the position from before, once again as if you were yearning to hold something that no longer existed if not in your memory.

And so it ended, with Tom definitely pulling you onto your feet and restoring your balance, his chest almost touching your back, his breath tickling the nape of your neck, sending a million little shivers all over your body and causing your skin to tingle with an excitement you found very difficult to contain.

You had been dancing to silence, but now that everything had stopped, it felt like it had been increased tenfold, the soft echoes of your mixed breathings resonating in that empty room like whispers in a sacred place.

It felt… intimate. Nothing had ever felt that intimate.

The two of you had even happened to share a bed several times, often waking up in the most absurd postures – and most of it was Tom’s doing, since you tended to remain quite still while sleeping, while he was more on the chaotic, restless side –, to the point where it could no longer embarrass you.

Yet there you were, doing nothing, but still being shaken to the core by it.

“A-and next you should lift me, so we can end it here”, you told him, attempting to come out of that impasse. You found the courage to look at his reflection in the mirror, only to discover that he was already staring at you, his bewitching signature puppy eyes digging a hole in your heart. You wanted to compliment him, to thank him for his kindness and patience, but not a sound dared to come out of your parted lips.

Little did you know that it was taking Tom everything in his power not to gently hold your chin between his fingers, carefully turn your head and kiss your breath away. His whole being was begging him to give it a try, to take that final step that terrified him so much, to finally open his heart and soul to the enrapturing creature in his arms, leaving her with the choice to tear it to pieces, or to cherish it like the most priceless treasure.

With a puzzling defeated sigh, he let go of you, his hands curiously lingering on your waist a little longer than necessary…

“Did I do things right?”, Tom asked you once you’d turned around. He gulped, looking like a child waiting for his parents to scold him. Sure, he had done his best, but what if he had made mistakes without noticing? What if you had noticed – what the Hell was he thinking, it went without saying, that you had – them? What if he had made a fool of himself? What if he had made you uncomfortable?

You were tempted to cup his face and kiss the tip of his nose, instantly – and quite reluctantly – deciding against it. It would’ve been weird, especially after that awkward… whatever that was. “You were perfect, Tom.”

The loveliest shade of bright pink coated his cheeks and ears. You loved it when it happened. “Oh come on”, he coyly dismissed that, scratching the back of his hair. “You were the one doing everything. I was merely a pivot.”

“An extremely essential and well-versed pivot”, you insisted, and despite your joking tone, you truly meant it: he had been more attentive and considerate at his first try than many of your other partners after dozens of lessons. Without a complaint, he had followed you smoothly, as if you had been rehearsing that segment for months.

But it wasn’t just that: Tom had a natural talent, something a person simply couldn’t learn. He had been away from ballet for so long, all of his filming projects literally changing his life, asking him to train and shape his body differently… and sometimes you found yourself wishing he would’ve continued dancing, instead of pursuing an acting career.

You wished he would’ve stayed.

It was selfish, dreaming of stealing him away from Hollywood – the same way that glamourous world had stolen him from you –, just to be able to hold his hand on a stage, to tell the most wonderful stories through the harmonic synch of your bodies, to live a hundred different lives by his side, changing while remaining the same…

It was selfish, and you hated yourself for it, but it would’ve been so beautiful…

“Shut up”, Tom downplayed your compliment, but a smile still crawled its way to his lips: you seemed satisfied, happy even, and that was all he wished for. “You know, I kinda felt like a thief, watching you for free”, he confessed.

You tapped your chin, pretending to actually consider it. “Well, I’m not opposed to getting paid…”, you told him, nonchalantly raising your hand, palm upwards, but he dramatically pushed it out of the way.

“I said kinda”, he argued, his voice coming out in an outraged gasp, while his free hand flying up to his chest.

You returned the blow, playfully smacking his arm. “Stingy.”

Tom winked at you, showing you his middle finger and you chuckled at the silly way he wiggled his eyebrows.

“No, but jokes aside…”, he spoke after a while – because he had lost himself in the sweet sound of your laugh like a proper idiot –, returning serious. “You were amazing, y/n. I mean it.”

“Thank you”, you murmured softly, heat blooming on your cheeks and spreading across your face, neck and ears. And then you gave him a smile and it felt like a spotlight being directed right into his eyes with no remorse whatsoever.

“Uhm…” Undergoing the titanic effort not to let his jaw drop to the floor, Tom did his best to appear unfazed, neutral, keeping himself together like a pro. But on the inside, he was screaming like a banshee.

“So… this guy who might play the Albrecht dude…”, he mentioned, realising too late what he had done. Being so desperate to fill the silence and change the topic, he had chosen the one he had been trying to ignore ever since you had told him the story of Giselle.

Your partners had always been a taboo in your conversations, with an honourable mention to Mike, who had kissed you in Romeo and Juliet – Harry and Sam had teased him for an entire week after witnessing it happen in the show. Tom despised Mike like few other things…

Not that he had ever actively manifested his annoyance while talking about it, though, of course: it was your job and, sadly, you weren’t together. And even if, by chance or miracle, you had been, he was well aware he wouldn’t have had any right to say something about the situation.

So he would swallow the bitter pill and support you through it all, because that was what friends did, and your happiness and well-being came first for him.

But for some reason, you would never tell him about any of those guys. Every time the two of you talked, you seemed to forget them… and he certainly wasn’t complaining. Because deep down, and he knew it was extremely wrong, but he couldn’t help it: he was jealous.

“He’s…”, Tom trailed off, desperately looking for something, anything to say. “… tall, huh?”

Yeah, sure, go with the height, Tom, he scolded himself, wanting to kick his brain. Great plan, genius.

“You mean Will?”, you wondered, blinking repeatedly, confused by the unexpected question. When he didn’t answer, you took it as a yes. “Uh, yeah, kind of”, you mumbled, feeling incredibly awkward. “He’s like 6ft 5’ or around that. Maybe more.” And now you were just being unsensitive, what the fuck was wrong with you?!

“To be honest, I’m afraid I’ll look like a dwarf next to him”, you added, hoping it would somehow fix the mess caused by what was by no doubt sounding like a bunch of nonsense to his ears.

“Then they shouldn’t hire him”, he muttered dryly.

“Tom!”

“What? I want you to look good on stage”, he justified himself, raising his hands like they were proof of the lack of malice in his thoughts.

And, most importantly, not dancing in the arms of a muscular giant. He bit his tongue not to add that. I can be your muscular not-giant. I can get even more muscular if you want me… okay, now he was getting pathetic.

“And…” He bit the inside of his cheek, cringing at what he was about to ask you. “Do you have to kiss or…?” It might have sounded stupid, but it wasn’t. He was here to offer you his help, right? You could’ve used a hand to rehearse that scene as well…

Several different questions cluttered your mind. Why was he asking about this? Why was he so interested in what you and Will were going to do? Why did he want to know? What did he want to know?

“Uh… no”, you denied, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “No kisses in this production.”

Tom didn’t even bother to mask his disappointment. “Isn’t it a love story?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“But no kiss.”

“She keeps him alive until morning despite him being the reason behind her death…”, you countered, not quite feeling the need for a kissing scene. And not particularly looking forward to sharing it with Will, either. “I think that’s pretty close.”

Tom looked at you in an indecipherable way, his lips pressing themselves into a thin line, his eyes running over your features. “Yeah, I guess…”, he agreed unconvincingly. And there went his chance.

His reaction left you with an uneasy burden on your shoulders and a bitter taste lingering in your mouth. Was this his friendly, kind tentative to drop a subtle hint about the fact that you had been so pathetically alone for so long that even the unusual suggestion of requesting to add a kiss on stage seemed like an ideal solution?

It had to be. You had no other explanation for it.

“I can always ask, though”, you offered weakly.

“Yeah, you should”, Tom confirmed with an energetic nod, the blow that finally knocked you out for good.

You didn’t say anything, head sinking between your shoulders as your defeated gaze dropped to the ground.

And because of that you didn’t see the way his eyes went round, growing twice their size, as he became fully aware of his own statement.

Holy shit, he was literally encouraging you to go and kiss another guy!

“No. You shouldn’t”, he frantically rushed to correct himself, causing your head to snap up just as quickly, that incorregible glimpse of hope always ready to be restored by the tiniest resemblance of a clue…

“It would be unprofessional”, he articulated seriously, praying to all of the Saints he remembered that his reasoning would convince you. That he would convince you. “Like, awfully unprofessional. Beyond words unprofessional”, he stressed out. “If it’s not in this production, you shouldn’t.”

Sure, Tom was talking about work, yet you couldn’t help a feeling of relief flourishing in your chest. “Yeah, you’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“You definitely shouldn’t”, he repeated to further reinforce the concept. But he committed the fatal mistake of letting his guard down, giving your warm smile full access to his vulnerability.

His next words took advantage of that, slipping past his lips before he could process them. Let alone stop them. “Could we kiss, though?”

“What?”

A/n: I know, it sucks, but I had to write it... to whoever requested this, I hope it didn’t disappoint you that much, and thank you for sending the ask! 💜

If you’re interested, here you can find the version of the Giselle pas de deux that I used as reference (the part Tom and y/n rehearsed starts at 2:36 and ends at 3:38). The way I described it doesn’t make it justice, but it’s really worth a watch!

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mrparkerwillseeyounow @indouloureux @hemlockhearts @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @melodicheauxxo @seolaseoul @peteprker @peetahpahkah @marajillana @yeetzel

(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x fem!reader #Tom Holland x dancer!reader #tshwritersnet #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tiptoeing around your heart

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