#. ill be writing for hours and be like DAMN that was a lot!! and then check the word count only for it to be like.... 500

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

TRANCH TRADE TRANCH TRADE TRANCH TRADE. throwing this at ur helmet so it bounces off in a goofy way

YAYYYYY TRANCH TRADE I LOVE IT HERE IN THE MUD AND GOOP AND BLOOD AND VISCERA!!!!!!!!

ohhhhh winnebago descriptions....... i loooove the winnebago i love the "living in their car and shitty motels bc they have nowhere else to go and are also on a huge fucked up road trip" energy..... ohhhh vyncent pov save me vyncent pov. see now you have to write a dakota pov to complete the set. 3 of them do not separate !!!!!

DESPERATELY SCROUNGING AROUND IN THE MUD for bits of my william fic i can share with you that arent MASSIVE fucking spoilers. hes going thru it a little . also this is insanely unedited bc i have just been writing it in little bursts at midnight+ :

alsooooo a little tiny bit of trickster dialogue from the mark nightmare fic (WHICH. BTW. is officially the longest thing I have written for fun in the last like 3 or 4 years holy shit. i officially crossed the 3k word threshhold yesterday everyone cheer and clap) :

[violexides]

God. komaeda really was a great character huh. (plus, ramblings about my favorite 'character types' and queerness in DR in tags).

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[veryrockyraccoon]

I see a lot of “Batfam can’t take care of themselves and are insanely self destructive” or “Batfam members (usually Tim) need to be drugged to sleep” and don’t get me wrong I read a lot of stuff like that and it’s really interesting and entertaining, however I would now like to present a Batfam that is not only hyper-competent about vigilante shit but civilian shit to.

Like sure they don’t sleep through the night but they consistently take naps throughout the day/night, and it works great for them, even before the whole vigilante thing most if not all of them had a preference for consistent naps over consecutive hours of sleep.

In regards to food, they burn thousands of calories, if they didn’t consistently eat they wouldn’t be able to go on, and not in a “I’m so hungry but I must carry on at the exact same level of capability as I did when I ate consistently but will pass out when convenient for the plot” type of can’t go on, I mean migraines, nausea, dizziness and passing out kinda can’t go on. I imagine having a good relationship with food is incredibly important to them (eating when hungry, eating how much you’re hungry for and eating what you’re hungry for). I think members who went through starvation periods probably put a lot of work into fixing their relationship with food.

When it comes to wounds or illness carrying on would not only be foolish and make them less effective while dealing with the injury/illness but could permanently affect how well they operate.

Maybe their various teams don’t think they take care of themselves and try to feed them or make them sleep or something, but at the end of the day they are keeping themselves in a condition where they can go toe to toe with aliens, metahumans and various other powerful individuals and not only hold their own, but win, that’s not something you do unless you take damn good care of yourself.

The bats and birds are self-sacrificial not self-destructive.

Anywho that’s just my thoughts, and like I said I’m not bashing anyone who writes or portrays them as self destructive, like I said I appreciate and read those takes on them.

[physalian]

Your colloquialisms are ruining the immersion (or, non-contemporary dialogue)

I am no expert here! Whenever I wrote historical fiction it was anachronistic historical fiction. This advice is from a reader’s perspective and from my experience writing high fantasy.

So what’s the deal with immersive dialogue? I’m going to ignore writing dialects and accents and so-called “old English” with the thee, thy, thou and such. Solely focusing here on the narrative telling me this isn’t set in present times, and yet the dialogue being painfully colloquial like present times.

This is coming from a book I had to read set in HRE times. In it, characters were spouting modern curse words, tacking on verbal tics and crutch words like “or something” and “um” and drawing out words like “daaaamn” and “nooooo”. Rip out the dialogue and toss it in a script with zero context and it would read like two high schoolers from 2009, not two adults from the Holy Roman Empire. Which is a problem, because it completely shattered the immersion. —

1. On so-called “formal writing”

Everybody knows that nixing contractions doesn’t do a damn thing to help your writing look more “formal”, it just looks robotic and stiff, right? We’ve gotten past this as a society? There’s a time and a place for replacing contractions with the full words, but not for every single sentence.

I swear this show keeps creeping into my writing advice but here we go. Transformers Prime. The context for Optimus’ dialogue has a lot to do with his aging voice actor, Peter Cullen, and the perception of the character over the decades from the corny 80s paragon hero everyman type leader to the grizzled and wizened old soul type leader. Optimus isn’t “one of the guys,” he’s old. Very old. He’s the dad of the group (one dad, his grumpy medic is the other dad).

So he gets lines like:

“I fear Megatron’s ambition is at its zenith.”

“But if his return is imminent as I fear, it could be a catastrophic.”

“I bore Skyquake no ill-will.”

He doesn’t curse like the other Autobots. His voice only raises in surprise, horror, or rage. He doesn’t go “um/ah/so/but/eh” and always thinks about what he’s going to say well before he says it. Despite him, Ratchet (the dad medic), and Megatron all being very old, Optimus is the only one who’s “proper” and collected and dignified with his lines. The writers didn’t achieve this simply by omitting contractions, he gets them where necessary and removes them when effective (e.g “We do not.” / “We don’t.”)

2. Thesaurus Rex

Continuing with the Optimus example, no other character in that show would use “zenith” unironically. Or “ill-will”. This doesn’t mean crack open and abuse a thesaurus but there’s a huge divide between:

“Megatron’s gone crazy and he’s going to implode soon” and “Megatron’s ambition is at its zenith”.

I can’ think of a better word to use than dignified, perhaps distinguished to describe his dialogue.

He doesn’t say “what?” when he’s confused, he pauses and says something like “please elaborate”.

This is both word choice and a syntax issue so if you’re struggling to fit a non-contemporary vibe for your work, pay attention to both.

3. When to abstain from cursing

There’s something very special about the dialogue in the Lord of the Rings movies: It’s PG-13 so they can’t curse, but if they had, it would have probably ruined the trilogy. These characters are able to yell in rage and anguish, spit vicious insults at their enemies, and stare down armies that are determined to kill them, all while never breaking the immersion.

Insults like:

“Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear.”

“Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, you witless worm.”

“Your words are poison.”

And all three were said by or about Grima Wormtongue.

Characters aren’t dumbasses, they’re fools, with the exception of Gollum’s insults toward Sam, the “stupid, fat hobbit”.

Even devoid of name-calling, Denethor absolutely trounces his second son by asking (and I’m paraphrasing) “Is there any man here willing to do his lord’s bidding?” right after Faramir expresses some apprehension about a suicide charge with his remaining soldiers, completely ignoring him and implying that he’s not a real man.

LOTR is full of juicy lines beyond curse words, too. One of my absolute favorites is: “Dark have been my dreams of late” as opposed to “I’ve been having nightmares lately.”

Do you see?? It’s poetry. The motif of Shadow and Darkness as if they’re real, physical things, all the lines of poetry pulled straight from the books like Theoden’s “where is the horse and the rider” monologue just before Helm’s Deep.

It’s dignified.

—

This one was a bit harder to, ironically, put into words without doing a full-blown case study into either franchise’s ability to write dialogue and monologues. I didn’t even talk about Ratchet’s several monologues (one of which was done perfectly in the sound booth on the first take) because Jeffrey Combs has a voice like ambrosia.

TLDR: Immersion goes far beyond your vivid setting descriptors and the clothing or the names and languages. I mostly write fantasy and sci-fi and whenever I read or watch fantasy and sci-fi that isn’t meant to be a world different from our own, or about characters who don’t speak modern English, and they go off with modern slang, syntax, and verbal tics, it just feels sloppy and weak. Pay attention to the following:

Syntax

Modern slang and jargon

Filler words/verbal tics

Curse words/curses

Flat, unmotivated vocab

*All of the quotes were from memory because I watch both of these franchises way too often. So apologies if I got any wrong.

[livwritessometimes]

Starboy - Lando Norris

: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

: Y/N and Lando celebrate his first win

: author’s note: I just couldn’t help myself! I had to write about Lando’s win 🏆 enjoy <3

: Masterlist

…

Yourname added to their story!

seen by User48 and 24,020 others

| User48 replied to your story

-> omggg yesss need a lando P1 🏆

*liked by Yourname*

landonorris added to their story!

seen by Yourname and 97,037 others

| Yourname replied to your story

-> 🧡

*liked by landonorris*

Yourname added to their story!

(No body talk to me right now! I feel like my heart will fall out of my ass)

seen by User02 and 45,920 others

| User02 replied to your story

-> YESS LANDOOO IF HE WINS ILL SHAVE MY HEAD 🪒👩🏻‍🦲

Yourname: girl wha- 😭😭 understandable ✊🏻

Yourname added to their story!

seen by User50 and 52,307 others

| User50 replied to your story

-> I’m gonna name my future child Lando Miami! Now I just need to get pregnant

Yourname: I-😃

landonorris added to their story!

seen by Yourname and 142,802 others

| Yourname replied to your story

-> so proud of you baby 🧡

*liked by landonorris*

liked by Yourname and 320,528 others

👤: mclaren

landonorris: We Did It 🏆

view all 98,525 comments

mclaren: LET’S GO LANDOOOO

*liked by landonorris*

Yourname: AHHHHHHHHH IM SO PROUD OF YOU 🫂🫂🫂🫂

-> landonorris: your support means everything 🧡🧡

-> Yourname: baby 🥺🥺 (also you have a lot of weird fans)

-> landonorris: It’s okay baby ik just look the other way 😌

maxverstappen1: Tonight we celebrate like champions!!

* liked by Yourname, kellypiquet*

-> landonorris: you know it mate

liked by kellypiquet and 75,201 others

👤: landonorris, mclaren

Yourname: Lando Nowins sorry don’t know him! So Proud of you my Papaya Boy 🧡

view all 62,437 comments

User52: Yesss queen tell them haters off 💅🏻

landonorris: Love you sweetheart 💕

*liked by Yourname*

mclaren: Yess let’s goooo 🏆 (don’t tell anyone but y/n was 🤏🏻 close to pulling a toto wolff 2021 at the garage today! It’s ok our headphones are safe 🤭)

-> Yourname: admin this was supposed to be a secret 🙂🙂

-> User57: hahahah not the admin outing y/n

liked by User98 and 21,683 others

Wagupdates: Lando Norris and Y/n L/n were seen leaving the stadium today. Fans claim the two were very touchy as they made their way towards their car.

view all 12,384 comments

Yourname added to their story!

seen by landonorris and 42,652 others

| landonorris replied to your story

-> 🖤🍷

liked by Yourname and 632,120 others

👤: Yourname

landonorris: You talking ‘bout me, I don’t see the shade 🕶️

view all 314,268 comments

Yourname: 💋🙌🏻

*liked by landonorris*

User71: omggg that’s so cute they’re having date night before celebrating his win 🥹🥹

User03: ok I can see where your hands are Lando 👀 you’re not fooling anyone

liked by landonorris and 76,402 others

👤: landonorris

Yourname: My back arched like a cat, my position couldn’t stop you were hitting it 🐈‍⬛

view all 69,382 comments

landonorris: star girl ♣️

*liked by Yourname*

kellypiquet: gorgeous gorgeous girl 💫

-> Yourname: umm have you seen yourself in the mirror 🙇🏻‍♀️

maxverstappen1: there are children here 😃

-> Yourname: let them also learn 🤟🏻😌

-> maxverstappen1: i-🫠

francisca.cgomes: Mother 🥵

-> Yourname: Kikaaaaaa 🫂🤭

-> francisca.cgomes: ahhh can’t wait to meet you 💕

-> landonorris: but she’s mine for another hour so back off 😚

-> francisca.cgomes: damn Norris take your time 🕰️🫡

User50: not Lando having a beef with Kika over y/n 😭😭

liked by Yourname and 824,039 others

👤: Yourname, maxfewtrell, maxverstappen1, pierregasly

landonorris: A hundred on the dash, get me close to God. We don't pray for love, we just pray for cars 🏎️

view all 329,104 comments

User02: Ohh wait till y/n sees the caption!

Yourname: hmm ok then

-> landonorris: baby just using the lyrics! nothing else <3

-> Yourname: You better pray for love tonight...who knows if you'll get it or not 👀

-> landonorris: Yes ma'am 🫡

danielricciardo: It was my fault I opened Instagram! should’ve just jumped off a cliff 🙂

-> charles_leclerc: +1

-> maxverstappen1: +1

-> maxfewtrell: +1

-> oscarpiastri: +1

-> georgerussell63: +1

-> lewishamilton: +1

-> fernandoalo_oficial: +1

-> carlossainz55: +1

-> alex_albon: +1

-> pierregasly: +1

-> landonorris: HATERS! each and every single one of you!! 🫵🏻

*liked by Yourname*

liked by landonorris and 92,349 others

👤: landonorris, kellypiquet, francisca.cgomes

Yourname: Dance the night away, grab somebody, drink a little more 🥂

view all 63,926 comments

landonorris: The only person who you should grab is ME! 😤

-> landonorris: wait that came out wrong

-> alex_albon: you think 😃

francisca.cgomes: Dance the night away 💃🏻

-> kellypiquet: live your life and stay young on the floor 🪩

-> Yourname: lalalalallallalalal 🎵

maxverstappen1: and that’s enough drinking for you ❌

-> Yourname: buzzkill 🐝

-> francisca.cgomes: +1

-> kellypiquet: +1

-> maxverstappen1: i- KELLY 🥲

-> landonorris: haha 🤣

-> maxverstappen1: oh you better watch your back Norris

-> landonorris: 😳

liked by User51 and 21,304 others

👤: landonorris, Yourname

F1newsupdates: Lando Norris and girlfriend, Y/n L/n, were caught by fans, who claimed things were getting quite serious in the backseat. This photo comes after the couple was seen celebrating Norris’s first win with friends and fellow drivers, including Verstappen and Gasly. Don’t know about you, but Lando Norris is definitely in for a good night!

view all 18,372 comments

Yourname added to their story!

seen by landonorris and 50,628 others

| landonorris replied to your story

-> 🙈

Yourname: 🫶🏻🤭

liked by Yourname and 429,638 others

👤: Yourname

landonorris: Can’t keep my hands to myself (I mean I could, but why would I want to 🤤)

view all 184,593 comments

Yourname: 🙈🙈

-> Yourname: also he did Infact miss his flight!

-> landonorris: oops? 😅

-> mclaren: 🤦🏻‍♀️

francisca.cgomes: @/pierregasly how come you never paint my nails 🤔

-> pierregasly: Pulling out all the supplies right now!! 🫡

User72: not Pierre getting attacked out of the blue 😂😂

*liked by Yourname*

liked by landonorris and 82,932 others

👤: landonorris

Yourname: Little Lando Norris is not as little as you might think 😉

view all 63,926 comments

danielricciardo: umm ya guys so I’m gonna do delete Instagram! It was fun while it lasted ✌🏻

-> charles_leclerc: +1

-> maxfewtrell: +1

→ oscarpiastri: +1

→ georgerussell63: +1

→ lewishamilton: +1

→ fernandoalo_oficial: +1

→ carlossainz55: +1

→ alex_albon: +1

→ pierregasly: +1

-> landonorris: HATERS! you guys just can’t see me happy ✋🏻😤

[leclerced]

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

My Reply | S.R

This one was a request from the lovely @reidsaurora-replies for my milestone celebration which got wildly out of hand. I think I damn near used every lyric of the song in this one. Also, Maeve does not exist in this universe. I felt like his phone calls with her were too similar to the letters with reader and not needed

Summary - Spencer writes his deepest tragedies down on paper for his pen pal. After ten years of exchanging letters and some divine intervention from JJ, the two of you finally come face to face.

CW - this one covers most of Spencer’s canon storylines including Tobis Hankel and his drug addiction, his moms illness, his fathers abandonment, getting shot in the knee, his headaches, Emily’s “death”, prison arc, Mr Scratch and Emily’s kidnapping, angst, interfering friends, lots of literary quotes.

WC - 6.3k

Making friends was always something Spencer Reid had been inherently bad at. He was always too young or too smart which always seemed to put people off of forming friendships with him. 

When he joined the BAU, his team called themselves his friends. But Spencer knew if he’d met any of them outside of work he would have nothing in common with them. 

They were simply friends by proximity, which admittedly was better than having no friends at all. But he couldn’t talk to them about everything, afraid to scare them away with talk of his mothers illness or his fathers abandonment. 

And sometimes he just needed to talk to someone. 

It was Garcia’s idea that he sign up for a pen pal. When she found out about his mom during the course of the fisher king case, he’d confessed that he didn’t feel comfortable talking to the team about such things. 

At first she’d actually suggested talking to someone online, she had many online friends who she talked to in various chat rooms. But after almost an hour of trying to explain that to the technophobe doctor and getting little more than a deep frown in response, she changed tact. 

A pen pal appealed to Spencer greatly. He already wrote daily letters to his mom and found it somewhat cathartic, getting his thoughts down on the page, but he never bothered her with the darker stuff. 

The idea of a faceless person he’d never meet reading his deepest, darkest thoughts was actually intriguing to him. And so with the help of Penelope he found himself a pen pal. 

In his first letter he’d just introduced the basics, his name and age, what he did for a living and that he lived in DC. 

He went on to explain how hard he found it to make friends and the difficulties of talking to his already established friends about the darker parts of his life. He ended the letter with a quote from To Kill a Mockingbird.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” - Harper Lee.

He received a reply little over a week later. 

Your name was Y/N and you were twenty two, three years younger than him and a grad student at Columbia University. You told him you would be happy to read whatever he sent you, that you were more than willing for him to write to you about the things he didn’t tell his friends. 

You signed off with a quote of your own quote from the book Infinite Jest.

“You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realise how seldom they do.” - David Foster Wallace. 

And so he did just as you said and he wrote another letter. 

His second letter to you was five pages long. He went into great detail about his mothers illness, how he’d been left to deal with it alone at ten years old. He wrote about how he’d made the decision at eighteen years old to have her committed to a sanitarium. 

He told you about growing up as a child prodigy in Las Vegas and how hard that was. You were the first person he ever told about Alexa Lisbon and being tied naked to a flagpole. 

He spoke about the events surrounding Elle leaving the team and how it didn’t feel complete without her. 

He ended the letter by apologising profusely that he’d wasted your time with his long winded rambles and said he hoped to hear from you soon and scrawled a quote from The Great Gatsby.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

He said he would understand if you didn’t reply. But you did. 

The letter took two weeks to arrive and you explained that it was because you wanted to really process his words and give each and every one of them the time they deserved. He read the last few lines of your letter over and over again in a loop even though they were etched into his memory after only one glance.

I wish there was something I could say, to erase each and every page you've been through,

even though it's not my place to save you. 

“When I get lonely these days, I think: so be lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” - Elizabeth Gilbert - Eat, Pray, Love. 

He wasn’t familiar with the book and so he’d gone out and brought it and read it cover to cover within an hour. 

Reading your letter made Spencer feel understood for the first time in his young life. You didn’t pass judgement on him. Spencer found that between the pages of your letters he found a kindred spirit. 

The letters continued back and forth for several months until one day you didn’t receive a reply. His last letter had been penned to you on route to a case in Atlanta, which you’d responded to the day you received it. But there was radio silence from Spencer. 

You shouldn’t have been as worried as you were, but you couldn’t help yourself. His letters had become such a huge part of your world, often rereading them hundreds of times just to make sure you didn’t miss any little nuance on the page. 

His handwriting was ingrained within you, his scrawly, sometimes barely legible penmanship danced behind your eyelids every time you closed your eyes. His letters had rapidly become the best part of any day. And for over a year you didn’t receive a reply. 

After a while you’d stopped holding out hope every time you collected your mail. Eventually you gave up ever expecting to hear from him again. Maybe he didn’t need you anymore. Perhaps he’d made a real life friend, maybe even a girlfriend and you’d been rendered ineffective. 

But then little over a year after you sent your last letter, you found an envelope in your mail slot with the familiar handwriting you adored so much and the DC postmark. 

Y/N,

I don’t really have any excuses, all I can say is I’m sorry. I have written you fifty three letters over the course of the last year but never mailed a single one. They are piled up on my desk, addressed and even stamped, but I couldn’t bring myself to mail them. 

I’ve been struggling, I can’t lie to you. I can’t even lie to you through a letter and tell you I’ve been fine because I haven’t. I think you would see through my prose, know that I wasn’t being truthful. And you’ve never given me a reason to be anything but honest with you.

The case in Atlanta was one of the hardest I’ve ever worked. I’m not going to beat around the bush, I’m just going to tell what happened and hopefully this letter will end up with you and not in the pile on my desk. 

I was kidnapped by the man we were hunting down. I spent two days tied to a chair being beaten within an inch of my life but a man with multiple personalities. In fact, that’s not strictly true. I wasn’t beaten within an inch of my life; one of the personas killed me. 

I’m not entirely sure how long I was technically dead before he revived me but obviously not long enough to cause permanent neurological damage. Irreversible brain damage occurs after four minutes without oxygen so it stands to reason it was less than four minutes. 

But during that time, my life flashed before my eyes, including every single word of every single one of your letters. 

One of the alter’s drugged me in his own way of trying to save me. Drugging me was supposed to help with the pain, both mental and physical. I fought it at first, desperate for him not to stick that needle in my vein. But after that first hit, I stopped resisting. 

I think you can probably already see where this is going. You’re incredibly smart and you seem to know me so well. After I shot Tobias Hankel dead I took three vials of dilaudid from his corpse. 

I should have prefaced this by saying I am now ten months sober, and offered up the good news first. But there were several months that I continued using the drug in secret, hoping it would aid in erasing the memories of it all. 

It took a case in New Orleans in which I met up with an old friend Ethan and ended up almost destroying my career for me to decide to get sober. I’ve had a lot of difficulties in my life, as you know, but getting clean is the hardest thing I have ever done. 

And now for the first time in months I’m craving again. Maybe that’s why I’m writing to you, determined to send this letter this time. I need to know that everything is going to be ok and you are the only one that I will believe it from. 

My team tries. Now it's all out in the open, they try to help. But you don’t even need to try. Your help is so effortless, so easy and I’m in real need of that right now. 

His letter went on in this vein for another six pages. He also included several pages of handwritten poetry which he had copied out of a book to send you. With each word you consumed you felt your heart breaking for him a piece at a time. 

And he signed off with a surprising choice of quote from The Lorax.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” - Dr Seuss. 

You spent the next month or so trying to cultivate the perfect reply, but for the first time in your life, words failed you. 

It was three days after Spencer received his one year sober chip that your letter arrived. 

I got your letter and the poetry you sent me, postmarked in December of last year. I really hope you’re doing better, all your friends close by your side, one step closer to recovery.

I hope by the time you receive this you are close to one year sober, but if you didn’t make it you need to know that’s ok too. Life is full of ups and downs Spencer. If you didn’t make it this time you will the next time. Or the one after that. 

If you relapsed I need you to not beat yourself up over it. You will be ok, Spencer Reid, for that I am certain. 

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” Maya Angelou - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. 

***

When he got shot in the knee, he wrote to you from the hospital. He told you how hard it was for him to turn down pain medication when he was in so much agony. But he was over two years sober now and he wouldn’t do anything to risk a relapse. 

Your reply spoke of how proud of him you were and how you knew it couldn’t have been easy for him but you hoped the fact you were proud went some way to aid him. 

He told you it meant more to him than you would ever know. 

Then he started having headaches and the letters became sporadic. When he did write he told you how painful it was for him to try to focus on the words in front of him. 

I’ve seen so many doctors and no one can tell me what’s wrong with me. It’s like they think I’m making it up, like this pain isn’t real. 

On my good days it’s a dull throb but on the bad days it’s nearly paralysing. I’m so scared that this is a precursor for schizophrenia. I'm still young enough for my first break, and it is a genetic illness. 

I love my mom but I can’t turn out like her, Y/N, I just can’t. I'm so, so scared. 

But your letters are the greatest comfort to me. I don’t think there are words to describe how much they mean - I will try to surmise it with a quote from Charlotte's Web -

"'Why did you do all this for me?' he asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.'" - E.B White.

You could feel his fear through the pages. His handwriting was somehow even harder to read than usual and sentences often tapered off with no ending. There were whole passages scribbled out so violently his pen had ripped the paper in places. There were crude drawings of brains and dark rain clouds in the margins. 

Spencer, 

I am so sorry you are going through this and that no one can give you the answers you seek. But this isn’t the end for you, even if it is schizophrenia, you can still live a full and normal life. 

If you'll just hold on for one more second, if you just hold on to what you have, you will wake up tomorrow. Behind every rain cloud lies the sun. As Victor Hugo said in Les Miserables -

“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.” 

In his next few letters he seemed to be getting better, his headaches slowly dissipating until they only hassled him every once in a while. Things seemed to be looking up for him. 

But then one of his best friends died. 

His detailed letter told you all about Ian Doyle and Emily’s history with him and went on to conclude how she died on the operating table. 

I’ve been through a lot of trauma in my life, lost a lot of people close to me but never like this. I’ve never had to bury someone I love and honestly I don’t know how to move past this. 

My initial reaction has been dilaudid. It's the only thing I can think of to take the pain away. 

Tell me not to do it, Y/N, please. Please tell me that this grief will get better and that using drugs again is not the answer. Please help me stay clean. 

"When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time — the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers.” John Irving - A Prayer for Owen Meany

It took you longer than it should have done to formulate a reply. You felt pressured, like his sobriety hung in your hands. You hated that his friend had died but you didn’t think it was fair of him to put this on you. And you told him such.

Spencer,

I am sorry to hear about Emily, I know how close the two of you were. I’m no expert on grief, I can’t tell you how to deal with this.

You know full well that using dilaudid again is a bad idea, you really don’t need me to tell you that. Honestly, I’m a little frustrated at you for putting this on my shoulders. 

I am always here to help Spencer, in any way I can but sometimes I think you expect too much from me. We’ve been trading letters back and forth for the better part of five years and I don’t think you’ve ever really asked me about myself aside from those first initial letters.

And it’s fine, you needed this friendship more than I did. But over time this has started to feel so one sided and I don’t always look forward to your letters as much as I once did. 

I realise this is not the best time for me to be saying these things but I can’t hold back any longer. I’m glad I can be someone you can turn to but I have my own life, my own issues and I have no one to talk to about them. 

You put too much pressure on me Spencer and it’s a lot to take. I’ve tried to help shoulder your misery all these years but it’s starting to bring me down. All I can say is you need to wake up, you've gotta believe; you can't give up. Time keeps going on without us, long after we're dead and gone.

And you finished it with a simple quote from After You by Jojo Moyes.

“No journey out of grief was straightforward. There would be good days and bad days.” 

It was no surprise to you that you didn’t receive a reply. 

***

Y/N,

It’s been two years and I’m sorry for that. Two years, one month and eleven days. The truth is your last letter was hard for me to read as you can probably understand. 

The hardest part of reading it was the fact that I knew you were right. I’ve been selfish all these years. I’ve treated you like a sounding board for my problems and never once asked how you were. 

It's taken me time to write this because I wanted to get to a better place before I responded. I was angry at first, I felt like I was being abandoned again and my anger would not have been conducive. 

Then I was hurt, hurt that the one person I thought would always be there for me had turned their back on me. I displaced my grief over Emily’s death onto you and anything I would have written in that time would have only been the rage fuelled epitaph of a grieving man. 

And then once I dealt with those emotions, life simply got away from me. Emily was alive and well, her death was faked to get Doyle off of her back. Again I was angry about being lied to by my friends but eventually I was just happy she was alive. 

Then I turned thirty and had a crisis of faith I suppose. I guess with my intellect I always assumed I would be doing something more with my life and turning thirty kind of threw me through a loop. 

We had some changes to the team, new agents coming and going. All in all things have been somewhat hectic. 

But that’s not why I’m writing. 

I am writing because I really do want to know everything about you. I want you to be able to open up to me the way I always have to you. I want to be your shoulder, your repreve. I really hope I haven’t completely blown our friendship and I hope to be the kind of person who you can talk to. 

These arms remain stretched out to you and maybe someday you'll accept them. Maybe it's too late to save a young girl's heart that's long stopped beating. But I hope that it isn’t. 

“You have been in every way all that anyone could be…if anybody could have saved me it would have been you.” Jennifer Niven - All the Bright Places. 

You wanted to tell him it was too little too late, that after two years of silence you weren’t interested anymore. 

You wanted to simply not reply, ignore him entirely like he’d done to you. 

But you couldn’t. And so you replied. 

It was your longest letter to date, depicting in great detail how he’d made you feel over the years and all the hardships you’d faced without having someone to vent to. 

But getting to write it all down had been purifying, and by the time you were finished you weren’t mad anymore. 

I am willing to give this another shot, but things have to be different. If we’re to continue this friendship then it has to be a two way street. 

But I can’t pretend that I haven’t missed your letters because I have. I see pieces of you between the words, parts of yourself I’m not sure you realise you leave on the page. 

I’ve painted a picture of you in my mind's eye and even after two years with no letters, I’ve carried that picture with me wherever I go. 

I feel like I somehow know you better than I know myself and I hope going forward you can start to know me the same way. Charlotte Bronte once said -

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.” - Jane Eyre. 

***

Spencer didn’t know how it happened, he only knew that it had happened. Over the course of all the years writing to you it was almost a surprise it hadn’t happened sooner. Or maybe it had and he just didn’t realise until now. 

Spencer Reid had fallen in love with the woman who wrote her prose to him. 

It had been ten years of letters, every single one of which he kept in their envelopes in date order in the bottom drawer of his desk at home. 

Those letters were his lifelines on bad days, the one thing that kept him tethered. He didn’t even know what you looked like, even what you sounded like but he loved you. He loved you with every fibre of his being. 

And he couldn’t stop himself from telling you exactly what you meant to him. Even if it inevitably destroyed what the two of you had, he couldn’t stop the words from flying across the page. 

So that’s pretty much everything that’s happened these past few weeks. Mom’s doing ok but obviously it's a huge adjustment for her and I’m not entirely sure how long I can keep her living with me but for now it works.

How did the interview go? I have absolutely no doubts that you blew them all away with your presentation, you’re a hard person not to fall in love with.

Your presence in my life has brightened my every waking minute. You once told me that behind every rain cloud lies the sun; you are the sun behind my clouds. Your letters bring me back to life, your handwriting penned onto my soul. 

Is it foolish of me to be in love with someone I have never laid eyes on? William Makepeace Thackery said in Vanity Fair -

“It is better to have loved wisely, no doubt: but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.” 

I suppose that’s as good of an answer as any. 

***

Five days after he penned his love confession, he was arrested in Mexico. Once all the drugs had left his system, only after he was extradited and arraigned and placed at Milburn was he able to dwell on the fact he never received your reply. 

And being trapped in a cell gave him way too much time to think about that. 

It was possible you had replied, maybe even just to tell him he was crazy to even think he could be in love with someone he had never met. But he was sure you wouldn’t have even bothered to respond, thinking him a lunatic you needed to cut ties with. 

After a month in prison on one of JJ’s visits she brought a letter with her which she had found in his apartment. She recognised the handwriting on the envelope from several she’d seen him reading over the years. 

She wasn’t allowed to give him the letter but she offered to read it to him. At first he’d declined because he had no idea what to expect from your reply but after several long minutes he’d decided to let JJ read it to him. 

Spencer,

I am pleased to hear your mom is doing well but I do think you know that this solution won’t work in the long run. You say you live in a one bedroom apartment? You and I both know that you can’t sustain having your mother live there permanently. But I know you and I know you will figure out what’s best for you both.

The interview was amazing and they offered me the job on the spot. If it wasn’t for all your help with the presentation there is no way I would have gotten it, so thank you so much for that. 

As for the other thing…

For some time now I have been wondering about feelings I didn’t understand. You’ve been such a large part of my life for so long and even though we’ve never met I feel like we have, if that makes sense? I feel like in my heart I know you. My heart knows your heart.

Falling for you was as inevitable as the sun rising each morning. Perhaps it is foolish but I believe Thackeray knew what he was talking about. And I also believe Emily Bronte was talking about me and you when she said, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

Spencer had interrupted JJ then, when she was smiling from ear to ear as she read your words out loud. 

“That’s enough.” He cut her off, burying his head in his hands.

“Wow, Spence, I had no idea you’d met someone.” 

“I haven’t met anyone. She is simply a woman at the other end of a series of letters.” 

“How long?” JJ placed the pages down in front of her.

Spencer looked up at her, a small blush on his cheeks. He didn't want to be talking about this, least of all on the other side of a plexiglass screen with his other inmates nearby but he responded all the same.

“Ten years.” He shrugged. 

“Ten years?” JJ sounded incredulous. “Ten years of letters and you’ve never met? Why?”

“I, uh, it never really came up.” It wasn’t a lie, you’d never once discussed meeting in all those years. 

“Is it like a distance thing? Does she live far away?” 

“No,” He sighed with a shake of his head. “She’s in New York.” 

“New York!” She huffed. “New York is a five hour train journey, Spence!” 

“Jennifer, now is really not the time for this.” He lowered his voice as JJ’s had garnered eyes in their direction. “There is really no point in discussing this as we have no idea when or even if I’m going to get out of here.” 

“Don’t say that.” She shook her head.

“It’s true.” He shrugged sadly. “I really can’t think about all this right now, ok? Just take the letter back to my apartment and pretend you didn’t see it. Please?” 

If it weren’t for the desperation in his eyes she might have argued it. But she didn’t want to waste what little time she got to spend with Spencer fighting.

“Ok.” She relented with a small roll of her eyes.

“Thank you, JJ.” He offered a tight lipped smile. “How are the boys?” 

JJ filled him in but she wasn’t really focused anymore. In her head, she was already penning a letter of her own…

Y/N,

My name is Jennifer Jareau, JJ, and I work with Spencer at the BAU. I’m not sure if he’s mentioned me to you or not. He hasn’t really told me too much about you if I’m honest. But I have learned that he has strong feelings for you and you for him. I’m wondering if I can make a suggestion…

***

When you received the strange letter from Spencer’s friend JJ in response to yours, you’d been initially extremely confused as to why he was letting his teammates read your secret correspondence. 

But when she’d gone on to tell you that Spencer had been arrested along with all the details surrounding his incarceration and how she’d read your letter to him during their visitation, you started to understand. 

But then a few days later, before you had a chance to reply to her, you received another letter from Spencer with a postmark from Milburn Correctional Facility.

Y/N,

Maybe Thackeray and Bronte were right or maybe they were wrong, I can’t say for sure. What I can say with certainty is that I can’t carry on like this a moment longer.

Something has happened to me, it won’t be hard for you to figure out what as soon as you see the postmark. I am not willing to get into it or explain how I ended up here. But I have no idea how long I am going to be inside and I don’t want the rest of our communication to be sent through a string of guards who will pick apart each tormented sentence. 

I ask you not to write me back. This has to be the end of the road my dear. This letter has to be our last. I don’t know how much longer I will continue to be able to live like this. Each day my hope dies a little more and I’m sure I won’t make it out of here alive. 

I am writing simply to say thank you. Thank you for all your years of listening, for all your patience and kind words and your hopeful prose. In my darkest hours you have shown me the light, dragged me out of the shadows of my own creation. 

I love you for all that you are and all that you have done but even you can’t save me this time. This really might be the end for me and I don’t want you to blame yourself. You are the only reason I made it this far in this treacherous game we call life. 

Take care of yourself, continue to live your absolute best life. And in time I pray that you forget me and are able to love someone far more tangible. 

All that is left to say can be summed up by a quote from The Miniaturist - 

“You are the sunlight through a window, which I stand in, warmed. My darling.” Jessie Burton.

You replied firstly to Spencer, his heartbreaking words more pressing than JJ’s letter. You kept it short and to the point, knowing that various other prison guards would read it before it even made it to his hands. 

I appreciate but can't accept this thank you note that's sealed with your last breath and I won't stand aside and listen to you give up. 

You are stronger than that Spencer Reid and if I know anything about your team from all the years of hearing you speak of them it’s that they are the best at what they do and they will prove your innocence. 

Just remember what Ernest Hemmingway said in A Farewell to Arms -

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger at the broken places.” 

You will be stronger at those broken places, Spencer, I have no doubt about it. 

And besides, if you don’t make it out of there, how do you  propose to ever meet me? 

Whilst on a role, you grabbed a clean sheet of paper and started scrawling again. 

Jennifer,

Thank you for your letter. I have spent some time musing on your suggestion and I think you might be right. 

I think it's time for me to take a trip to DC…

***

Spencer never opened your last letter because he had no intention of replying to it. If he didn’t read it, he could pretend you had never sent it and he wouldn’t be tempted to write a response. 

Instead he stuffed it between the pages of his book and tried not to think about it. 

After two and half months his team proved his innocence and he was released but he was thrown into the deep end of trying to find his mother. 

And even once he found her unscathed, he was rapidly thrust right into Scratch’s web after he kidnapped Emily. 

Taking the elevator back up to the BAU alongside JJ after they’d escorted Emily to the hospital it already felt like a lifetime had passed since he left prison. And all he wanted to do was chronicle all of it to you. 

Maybe once the dust settled, once he’d wrapped his head around everything that happened he would open your letter and send you a reply. 

But for the first time in ten years, Spencer didn’t want to drag you into his mess. 

JJ was strangely quiet as the elevator made its ascent. He didn’t even want to be here, he’d planned on going straight home after leaving the hospital. He hadn’t slept in his own bed for two and a half months and he couldn’t wait to collapse into it. 

But JJ had insisted that instead of him getting the metro home, if he popped back to the BAU with her to collect some paperwork, she would drive him home. 

And honestly he was just too exhausted to decline. 

JJ’s eyes were hyper focused on the digital floor numbers as they got higher. A few seconds after it displayed number five, one floor below the BAU, she turned and looked at him. 

“Don’t hate me for this.” She blurted out. 

“Excuse me?” Spencer frowned, too tired to try to understand what she meant. 

“I couldn’t just let it go.” She shrugged, a guilty smile on her lips. 

“Let what go?” His frown deepened. 

Her eyes flicked back upwards as the number five rolled into the number six and the elevator started to judder as it prepared to stop. 

“Just remember I love you and that’s the only reason I interfered.” She shrugged as the elevator stopped entirely and soon the doors were peeling open. 

Spencer looked away from her and out of the open doors to where someone was standing just a few feet back. 

Spencer’s eyes landed on the stranger only it wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew exactly who this person was standing on the BAU floor. 

He remembered the way JJ had read him your letter and how you’d told him your heart knows his heart. 

Well his heart knew yours too. And he knew the heart beating a few feet away from him was yours. 

“Y/N?” He croaked, slowly stepping out of the elevator but not too close to you. 

“Spencer?” You smiled at him, the kind that reached all the way to your eyes. 

Neither of you noticed JJ slipping quietly away, wanting to give you some privacy. 

“What are you doing here?” His brows were furrowed and he was rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You’re friend JJ wrote to me. She told me everything that happened to you. And she made me realise that ten years is too long to wait for a first meeting.” Your voice was like honey to Spencer’s ears. 

Your prose was beautiful, but hearing the words from your lips as you stood in front of him in all your ethereal glory was more than any letter could convey. 

“I…I am actually speechless.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 

“You? Speechless?” You giggled and Spencer felt the sound all the way to his heart. 

“You’ll come to learn I am much more of a wordsmith on paper. In person I am incredibly awkward and often trip over my words. I ramble when I’m nervous or clam up entirely, no in between. I spout facts and statistics rather than have a meaningful conversation. I am much more comfortable writing my words down on paper than speaking them out loud.” He let the words spill out of his mouth, proving his point entirely. 

“I’ve waited ten years to hear your voice. Please never stop talking.” You smiled so brightly at him he felt like he was floating. 

You were here in front of him, not just hidden between pages of letters. You were real, tangible; within his reach. 

And suddenly the last thing Spencer wanted to do was talk. 

He took a few tentative steps towards you and cautiously raised a hand to your cheek. You sighed in content when he cupped your face and nuzzled against his palm. 

“I could talk to you about anything and everything all day long, my love.” He smiled, inching his face closer to yours. “But at this moment in time I have one slightly more pressing desire to do with my mouth rather than speak.” 

“Oh yeah?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. 

The warmth of your body and your smile encompassed him. As he looked into your eyes, finally looked into your eyes, every bad thing that had ever happened to him slipped away. 

“Love starts as a feeling, but to continue is a choice. And I find myself choosing you, more and more every day.” He quoted Justin Wetch’s Bending the Universe. 

“Spence?” 

“Yes Y/N?” 

“As sweet as that is, I thought there were more pressing desires to use your mouth for?” 

“If you insist.” He smiled and quickly closed the small space between you.

When his lips finally met yours it felt like all the pieces of the universe were falling into place. 

For ten long years you’d communicated in the pages of letters, constructing replies to what felt like one sided conversations that were confined to only live on paper. 

As the kiss deepened every single one of those words seemed to float in the air around you, spiralling like a tornado made of a decade worth of missives. 

He swore he could hear each and every word whispered to him in the voice he’d longed to hear all these years as he kissed you like you were the most important being on the face of the earth. 

And when he pulled back and mumbled I love you against your lips, it was the easiest reply you’d ever given. 

[the-record]

ICU

SUMMARY: ellies lost her keys…again… luckily dina’s pretty friend has an empty bed

PAIRING: ellie williams x reader

WARNINGS: none?

A/N: i missed these and yall!! not fully back but i miss writing also if u see stranger things content don’t be alarmed! still v much in love with ellie and abs

‘ I FEEL SOMETHING WHEN I SEE YOU NOW ‘

elliewilliams

elliewilliams LET ME INNNNNNNN. JOEL PLEASE LET ME INNNNNNNN

tagged: joelmmm

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dina_nolastname BAAHHAHA IMAGIWN 

   elliewilliams i HATE you CRY URSELF TO SLEEP

joelmmm 💤💤💤

   elliewilliams JOEL PLEASE UTS COLD

   elliewilliams IM TIRED AND IM VERY SORRY 

   elliewilliams JOELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

jessesucks go to tommy and marias stupid

   elliewilliams why didnt i think of that? oh wait I DID ITS 2 AM AND THEY HAVE A BABY STUPJD HOW DID YOU EVEN GRADUATE??!!?!?!

yourusername did u lose ur key again

   elliewilliams …no… also HOW DO U KNOW AB THAT?!?!

      yourusername dina talks a LOT when shes drunk

angel: ellie come to mine

ellie: huh?

a: ur locked out, im not, my beds made, urs probably isnt, come over.

e: u barely know me?!?!?

a: dina trusts u idc, come over rn or ill pick u up.

e: send me ur address.

“this was really nice of you.” ellies voice breaks the silence as make room for her beside you. you wave your hand, no worries, but she insists. “no seriously, you could’ve let me die. freeze. starve even.”

when you laugh she doesn’t think she’s ever heard a better sound. “ellie i don’t think any of those things would’ve happened.” you smile and lean on an elbow to look at her. “and i really don’t mind, gets lonely anyways. need a loser dork to fill the silence.” you tease.

she gasps in faux hurt, tracing an imaginary tear down her face.

elliewilliams

elliewilliams an ANGEL yall. $10,000,000 for her and her only.

tagged: yourinstagram

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yourusername bye i let you stay over a night 😭 i didnt cure cancer

   elliewilliams ur right. $100,000,000 mb

dina_nolastname *sighs*

   elliewilliams i hate you.

joelmmm yourusername I am so sorry Ellie intruded, I’ll pay you for your time and kindness. 

   yourusername 😭😭 damn

      elliewilliams ignore him, he drinks

         yourusername its 8 am.

jessesucks oh you will NEVER live this down.

   elliewilliams blocked.

a_anderson you are an embarrassment to society!

   elliewilliams i hate all of u.

e: hey!

a: real chipper today huh

e: didn’t lose my key all week so yes very

e: i have a question tho

a: lmao im gonna steal ur key from u, whats up?

e: do u wanna go to a concert this weekend??

e: i bought the tickets for dina and i but she cancelled last minute and jesse cant go

e: its like 2 hours away on saturday 

e: also do NOT touch my key please i m begging

a: yea actually id love too :)

a: text me the details

e: great

e: okay yea ofc

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams so…

tagged: yourusername 

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dina_nolastname MRS STEAL UR GIRL 

   elliewilliams SHE WAS NEVER URS!!!

jessesucks GASPING when did this development occur.

   elliewilliams 🤓☝️

      jessesucks BREAK UP

yourusername girl on the left is sooo fine

   elliewilliams crazy, im more into the one on the right

   dina_nolastname yall r EMBARRASSING 

joelmmm yourinstagram Come for dinner tomorrow! Would love to meet Ellie’s pick of the month. 🩷

   yourinstagram GOODBYEEE

   elliewilliams JOEL?!?!??!!!??!

yourusername

yourusername in an interesting turn of events…

tagged: elliewilliams

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jessesucks GAG

   yourusername this is why dina dumped you! 💋

      dina_nolastname BYEEE true tho

elliewilliams bruh we are so cute

   yourusername okay “bruh”

      elliewilliams WIAT OM SORRY

dina_nolastname mrs. stolen girl 💔💔

   yourusername im always urs bae 

a_anderson wheres MY cute gf damn.

   yourusername I KNOW SOMEONE WHOO LIIIIIIKES YOU!!

      a_anderson SPILL. 

   elliewilliams go away! 💋

a: hey

e: hi

a: come over?

a: please?

e: are you okay??

a: just please come over.

e: im omw right now

e: be there in 10

e: unlock the front door

a knock on your door wakes you from the light sleep you’d been in. a small ‘come in’ has ellie gently opening the door and walking softly towards your bed. her hands brush hair from your face, a kind smile on her face. something you can’t pinpoint in her eyes.

“you doing okay babe?” her voice is just above a whisper, though no one else would be home to hear it otherwise. “tired?”

you hum an answer out and reach for one of her hands, fiddling with her rings and avoiding her eyes. “can you turn off the light and sit with me?” she smiles and nods, savoring one more second before standing and taking off her jacket while walking to the switch.

its still light out, the evening sun beginning to set but still lighting up enough of your room. as she’s getting in beside you, she notices what you’re wearing. “nice shirt,” ellie says with a snort.

its one of hers, you stole it a few weeks ago with no intention of giving it back. her heart grows as a small smile graces your features. “there she is.” you flush and turn away. she coos teasingly while getting comfortable behind you.

when you do turn, shes the perfect pillow. her fingers trace your features as your eyes shutter closed.

e: hi love, you wanna do something today?

a: you have something in mind?

e: thought we could go bowling 

e: that new bowling place just opened downtown, looks cute

a: kinda tired. do something at home?

e: alreadyomw with snacks for u

a: youre the best.

a: i miss you.

e: i miss you too. you doing okay?

a: are you at work

a: im tired

e: i get off in 30 

e: come over to mine, joel will let you in

a: okay

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams bbg needs a NAP theyre grouchy

tagged: yourusername 

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yourusername i know where you live.

   elliewilliams LOVE YA!

joelmmm Photo creds.

   elliewilliams sighs.

dina_nolastname angel ALWAYS needs nap bro gets really grumpy

   yourusername I ALSO KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

      dina_nolastname see? grumpy.

jessesucks we’ve all seen the pictures she looks absolutely BEAUTIFUL, uhm… and he’s there… (ellie is he)

   dina_nolastname (ellie is he) BYE

   yourusername HEY JESSIE WOAHHH FEELS LIKE A PARTY EVERYDAY

   elliewilliams remember when dina dumped u?

a: can we go to the aquarium 

e: you feel up to it?

a: no obviously i asked because i don’t 

e: OKAY SORRY DAMN

e: god just being a supportive girlfriend and this is what i get. 

a: GOODBYE I DONT WANNA GO ANYMORE

e: no im sorry im sorry im sorry i wanna go

a: YAY

a: pick me up in 30 pls

e: of course love 

e: im glad you’re feeling better

e: very excited rn

yourusername

yourusername finally left the house after 72628748829 years 

tagged: elliewilliams

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elliewilliams @ the guy who took this for us ur so real

   yourusername YEA!!!!!!

dina_nolastname yall r so cute CRY

   yourusername u want me fr

jessesucks ICK

   dina_nolastname this is why i dumped u

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams a moment for the gf!

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername OF ALL THE THINGS YOU POST THIS?!?!? THIS?!!!!!!!?

   elliewilliams but u look so pretty

      yourusername CHOKE ily

         elliewilliams I love YOU

dina_nolastname my wife is so gorg

   elliewilliams back off?

      yourusername LADIES LADIES theres enough of me to go around

jessesucks cute ig

joelmmm You found a good one babygirl! 

   elliewilliams DAMN RIGHT I DID

e: hey i love you

a: i love you too

a: u lose ur key again?

e: …

a: ffs come over good god

e: already here!

a: R U IN MY KITCHEN??!

e: ur mom says hi

e: be up in a sec!! snacks!

[gingerlee-holds]

Letting Off Steam

this is a bday fic for @littleleesblog!! my first steps into the hazbin writing community heehee! idk if people like this one, ill write sequels about him getting charlie (me), angel, idk we'll see

btw yada yada this is a tword fic- Ler!Alastor Lee!Lucifer

Word Count: Reading Time: Warnings: Idk, swearing? Alastor bein a lil shit? barely any editing?

If you prefer a quieter living space, perhaps the Hazbin Hotel isn’t for you. Loud arguments and the commonplace occurrence of walls being blown in could make for a very harsh experience on the ears - not to mention the frequent singing. There were, however, a few locations at the hotel where it’s quiet, such as Charlie’s room, the library, and, shocking nobody, Alastor’s radio station, located on the far northern side of the hotel on the very top floor. Whenever Alastor got the chance, he stayed in that room for as long as possible during the day - usually to avoid being roped into the shenanigans of the other hotel residents. 

On one particular day, however, it seemed like the radio demon couldn’t catch a damn break.

Charlie had called him to the lobby at 7 AM to settle a disagreement between Vaggie and Angel regarding “Breakfast Booze” at the bar. Then, not an hour later, Lucifer was badly practicing the accordion in the lounge. This was followed shortly after that by the TV demon, Vox, interrupting Cherri’s favorite show to deliver a laughably defamatory news segment on Alastor’s performance in his fight with Adam, accompanied by such phrases as ‘pussied out’ and ‘spineless.’ It should come as no surprise that he was already stressed when Charlie cheerfully gathered everybody in the lobby. His entire face hurt with the exertion required to keep a smile.

“Okay, everyone,” Charlie began. I was thinking, what better way to celebrate the grand opening of the newly refurbished hotel than by playing hide-and-seek?” She did a little twirl as she finished, trying vainly to excite her friends. 

Angel Dust raised his hand and, not waiting to be called on, asked, “How the hell does that follow?”

Undeterred, Charlie continued. “Hide and seek is a game that requires exploration! We put a lot of work into rebuilding this place, so we should try to enjoy it! Now, who would like to seek first…?”

A hunt. Oh, what luck that on such a poor day as that, Alastor could finally stretch his legs a little and do what he did best: scare the living daylights out of people! His smile widened, and his eyes squinted like a shark when blood was in the water. He stepped forward with perfect posture as always, resting his hand on his cane. “I would be delighted to!”

“No-” Both Lucifer and Husker had begun to protest, but Charlie clapped her hands with glee. Everyone knew she was just happy to have someone invested in her activities. 

“Perfect! Count to sixty, and then come look for us!”

“Oh, splendid.” The radio demon casually walked over to the wall, closing his eyes as if it mattered. Hands resting on his cane, he chuckled softly to himself. “One.” He heard silence behind him. “Two.” Again, he heard nobody move. 

‘They must not be taking this seriously,’ he thought. Gradually, the sound of radio static began to hum through the lobby as Alastor’s antlers grew larger. 

“Three.” Still nothing.

‘I won’t let them ruin this for me, not after today. Drastic measures, then,’ Alastor thought. He cleared his throat innocently. Then a deer call echoed around the room as he turned his head all the way around on his neck, eyes the shape of bright red dials and smile of sharp teeth impossibly wide.

“FOUR.” 

It had its intended effect. All of the hotel’s residents yelped various exclamations and expletives and took off in every direction, unsure if they were now hiding for their victory in the game or their lives. 

Alastor chuckled softly and turned back towards the wall, appearing normal again. He continued counting, interspacing the numbers with tunes he remembered from a past life, patting his cane to the rhythm. ‘I really should sing more often. It’s a shame I don’t often get the chance,’ he mumbled. Alastor knew he would find each hider eventually - after all, he had a lot of practice with hunting overlords - but Charlie had not mentioned a time limit, meaning he would take his sweet time to savor the silence and the hunt. When he finished counting, he decided to be a bit theatrical and sent a shockwave through the ground at the tap of his cane, instantly turning off every light in the hotel. He turned, smiled eagerly, and sank into the ground as a shadow, moving through the darkness like a cloud of smoke. ‘Now… who to look for first?’

-

Lucifer Morningstar, king of hell, didn’t realize how fast he was flying until about a minute after Alastor’s little scare. It upset him a little to discover how easily startled he had been, especially since he had easily beaten Adam, who had easily beaten Alastor. He sighed in annoyance as the lights above him went out, and to keep from flying into a wall, he flew to a stop, landing gracefully on the ground. With a subtle flap, his wings glowed softly, surrounding his hallway with a gentle golden light. He walked forward, not looking for a hiding spot. He had a feeling that that didn’t matter.

He suddenly felt a chill on his back. Lucifer whirled around, staring closely into the dark hallway behind him. Sensing no movement, he huffed and walked backward a bit, turning back around only to walk into the chest of the radio demon, letting out an indignant squawk.

“Ah, your highness! It seems you were the first to be found! You’re not very good at this, you know~!” Alastor said in that smug tone. 

“Well, Mr. What’s-His-Name,” Lucifer replied as he wiped off the front of his suit before confidently resting both hands on his apple cane. “I’ll have you know I’m only doing this to make my daughter happy. I don’t fear you, busboy.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed in determination. There was no way he was letting any of the other hotel residents come out on the other side of this activity willing to mess with him. That meant attitude-correcting. “You know I mean no disrespect, your highness!” he said, twirling his cane in one hand while adjusting his tie. “I simply had higher expectations of you!”

“As did I for you! I cannot believe my Charlie put her faith in you of all demons to keep her safe. You had one job, and you-” Lucifer stopped when Alastor sank into the shadows again, disappearing. “Typical.” The king began walking forward again, doing all that he could to give off the impression that he wasn’t scared, but all the effort in the universe couldn’t have held back the squeak that came to his lips when he felt a poke to his side. 

“Oh, my~! Someone’s a little on edge~!” came a delighted voice from the darkness. Lucifer growled in frustration and extended his wings to make the hallway as bright as daylight. Unfortunately, this is what Alastor intended, which Lucifer soon discovered when he felt claws scribbling in the pits of his wings, right on the sensitive area where they connected to his back. “Now, what an unfortunate weakness for royalty to possess~!”

Lucifer squealed, buckling over and landing on his knees on the floor. Alastor had suspected that the fallen angel was ticklish since Charlie was a walking tickle spot, but verifying it like this was nothing short of delicious for him. 

“Youhuhu- youhuhuhu lihihihittle-! Cuhuhut ihihit ouhuhut!” Lucifer’s strength had left him for some reason, and he found himself powerless to defend himself from the radio demon’s attack. Giggling like a child, he tried in vain to reach around behind him to swat away the attack, but this only opened him up more. Alastor’s claws zipped around and wriggled into his ribs, causing the king to let out an outrageously embarrassing squeal. He swung around to free himself, extending his wing to fling back the demon. It made no contact as he landed with a thump on his back, his hat tossed aside. 

“Ah, ah, ah~! I have to make sure you play the game better next time! After all, it’s only fair that there should be consequences for losing, especially being the first to lose!” From beneath him, hands grew from the floor to scribble into Lucifer’s wing pits again, making the fallen angel arch his back in surprise. 

“DahAhahahamn yoUhUhuhUuHU!” he laughed, kicking his feet a little. He reached back again to defend himself, only to be met by his apple cane, quickly used to pin his elbows to the floor with a yelp. 

“Fell for it again~! Tsk, tsk, your highness! We all must learn from our mistakes here at the Hazbin Hotel~!” Alastor suddenly materialized in front of him, leaning casually against his cane as he smugly observed the plight of the king of hell. 

“Yeah, well, you’re a-” Lucifer’s taunt was cut off by his shriek when shadowy hands grew from the ground to wriggle their fingers against his ribs. Alastor’s cooing was absolutely not helping, and it took everything in him not to whine when he felt the hands undo his coat and vest, leaving him in his plain undershirt. 

“There we are, now to teach you a lesson!” Alastor watched as his shadow hands continued their evil work, relishing every second of the king’s humiliation. He had ghostly digits wiggling against the ribs, scribbling in the wing pits, and he had just summoned two more hands to squeeze experimentally on the thighs, making Lucifer squeal like Angel’s pig. The fallen angel’s wings flapped on the floor, but his arms were pinned, keeping him firmly grounded. 

Alastor smirked and stepped forward, leaning down to wiggle a claw against the king’s belly. “You’re far too precious to act all tough, Your Highness! Don’t worry, I’ll let the others know about this discovery of mine~!” With that, he stood tall, straightened his suit, and turned to walk away, fading into the hallway’s darkness. 

“D-dohoHohn’t youhu fu-fuhuhuhCKING-!!” Lucifer couldn’t even get the words out as one final hand scribbled along his collarbone. He could do nothing but lie there on the hallway floor and laugh, hoping that Alastor would eventually have mercy. It might be a while before then since he was the first one found. Maybe he would have to put more effort into hiding next time… 

Read the next part here!

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Stubborn Sickness - D.Malfoy

Summary - Y/N is too stubborn to take a pepperup potion even though she is sick and madam Pomphrey has a bunch. The kind hearted slytherin in turn suffers through it in her boyfriend’s bed, snoring her days away. Thankfully Pansy is there to save the day and give her best friend the potion that will make her better. 

Word Count - 819

Warnings - Illness(common cold), swearing, use of y/n, female reader, Theo and Pansy are kinda comedic relief, (let me know If I missed any)

Author's Note- Day Six! Welcome! This is my first Draco fic but it really doesn't have a lot of Draco. I am still trying my damndest to keep up with the 25 days! I'm writing and scheduling my uploads ahead of time!

Harry Potter Masterlist

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

Because of the winter, illnesses were inevitable, students at a constant rotation in the hospital wing for a pepperup potion. There were a few students however, that were particularly stubborn, one of them being Y/N Y/L/N. She knew how busy madam Pomphrey was during this time of year, so she wanted to lessen the load a little bit, even if it was just by one student. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, thought she was being an idiot for not going to get the potion. 

Draco, the ever dutiful boyfriend, was at his ill girlfriend’s every beck and call. She was staying in his dorm so his roommates also had to go through the pleasures of her acting like she was dying over a cold. She had been sleeping in Draco’s bed, covers pulled up over her shoulders, tissues scattered around her, snoring due to her clogged sinuses. 

She woke with a start due to a pillow smacking into her head. “What the fuck!?” She whined, her eyes still closed, her mouth completely dry. 

“You snore louder than a dragon! I’m trying to study here,” Theo complained right back.

“I can’t help it, I’m sick! I don’t usually snore, go study in the library if it bothers you that much.”

Draco walked into the room, a glass of water in his hand and his bag swung over his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of her snoring, she can’t help what she does while she sleeps. Darling, you snore all the time, it’s just louder than usual,” Draco chimed in, dropping his bag at the end of his bed and giving her the glass of water. He made sure she drank at least half before he went about pulling any homework out of his bag. 

“I snore all the time?” She questioned her boyfriend.

“Yes, but it’s cute! And you know I’d never lie to you.” He was in the process of starting his homework and handing Y/N hers. She pouted but started her homework with Draco. She was halfway through before she went into a sneezing fit, her boyfriend sighing because he had been pestering her to go see Pomphrey which she kept refusing. 

“At this point just ask Snape for the damn potion. I don’t want to get sick too,” Blaise added to the conversation. 

“I’m not gonna get you sick!” Before Blaise and Theo could go back at her, Pansy waltzed into the room like it was her own. In her hand she held a potion, more specifically the pepperup potion and it was enough for all of them just in case the boys got sick too. 

“I come bearing a gift! Not only is there enough for our dear Y/N, but there’s also enough for the rest of you if you get sick. Well, more like when you get sick,” Pansy sing-songed as she skipped to her sick friend. Y/N was more than thankful for her friend and roommate, willingly taking the bit of potion that Pansy had given her. 

She started to feel better after about an hour, her sinuses opening up, her headache disappearing, and the ache in her body leaving completely. She spent the rest of her night catching up on homework and cleaning up around the dorm since she had taken over for a few days. Draco insisted she stayed one more night with him before returning to her own room so of course she couldn’t say no. 

The next morning she was once again rudely woken up, this time it was the boys around her all whining. She had officially gotten all of them sick, including Draco who was still asleep but snoring like a freight train. Oh how the tables have turned, the boys choosing to give her a taste of her own medicine, having her bring them tissues and their homework as well as going into the kitchens to get them all food.

Later that day, after all of them agreed to take the potion, she felt relieved and exhausted. “I am never going to be stubborn about this bloody potion ever again, you guys are too much!” She ranted.

“Karma,” Pansy added in her two cents. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“Not at all darling. We were just exaggerating,” Draco assured his girlfriend.

“No, you were worse,” Theo told her truthfully.

“What the fuck, Nott! I told you not to say anything!”

 “I can’t lie to her!  She’s one of my best friends, Malfoy! I need to tell her the truth about how whiney she actually was.”

Her face was hot with embarrassment, as she hid her head in Draco’s neck. She was slightly thankful for Theo’s honesty, she never realized how bad she actually was when she was sick. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll always take care of you when you’re sick, even if you’re too stubborn to take a pepperup potion.”

[loppsided]

hi lovely 🤍 i apologize for the very detailed request i have lol but can i ask for a fic or headcanons of dave’s best friend (fem!reader) accidentally finding out he’s kick-ass?

like… maybe the reader confesses she has a crush on kick-ass, and decides to send fanmail to his myspace page despite dave trying to convince her otherwise. she doesn’t understand why he’s so insistent about it until she sends the message and dave’s phone immediately goes off 🫢

i’ll leave the rest to you from there! again, thank you so much lovely 🤍 your writing is wonderful, don’t ever doubt that!

WARNINGS: dave lizewski x best friend!reader, f!reader, fluff, typical nerdy and nervous dave lol, lots o cussing, classic teenage girl!reader shes very bubbly, first kiss NOTES: the end is such a mess im so sorry! stop thank you so much i really appreciate that. and no worry's, i actually prefer longer requests with detail because it helps me set the scene. so if u have any others that are long, send them my way! also this is such a cute scenario ugh i love his nerdy ass. i donnnnnttt really think i like this buts its not completely terrible so ill post it lol. likes and reblogs appreciated! WC: 960

"because you just shouldn't, ok? god!" dave's whiny voice echoed throughout your room which almost made you giggle before you realized your parents were sleeping. you and him had been going back and forth for what seemed liked hours, all because you wanted to send your new celeb crush *kickass*, a few words of encouragement through his myspace page.

"that's not a good reason, weirdo. your such a baby, its not cringe to send him something. everyone deserves nice things said to them." you pulled your chair into your desk, a slight smile creeping on your lips at the thought of the green vigilante.

dave sat in silence, a little more nervous than he should be. i mean, what the hell was his problem? its just a comment on a damn board, and! its anonymous. dave knew you had a slight crush on the masked crusader, but you would never meet him so who cares?

you began to type, biting your bottom lip as you did. you caught a glimpse of dave out of the corner of your eyes and noticed he had scooted his chair farther away from you. whatever.

'dear kickass, i just wanted to comment about how much i appreciate you, well everyone does. so keep up the great work and keep kicking ass!' you re-read the message before hitting send. your internet had been a bit slower than usual that night, and while you waited for the message to send, dave excused himself to the bathroom. "um ill be uh right back, gotta piss." but as soon as he was about to open your bathroom door, you had noticed the message sent. and a slight *ding* could be heard from daves phone. who texted hi- your thoughts interrupted your own before you whipped your chair around and yelled his name.

he froze, nervous as ever and sweating profusely. "come here." you said calmly, even though you had put the pieces together in your head. you didn't want to overreact before you knew you were correct. he walked over to you, trying not to seem suspicious. "yeah? whats wrong." he said, but his voice cracked in the process which was a dead giveaway. "give me your phone, mines dead and i have to text someone." he paused for a moment before coming up with the most obvious lie ever "uh, um mines dead." you raised a brow, biting back a smile. "but i just heard it ding." he froze again, looking around your room dumbly.

you stood up quickly, startling him as you lunged towards his pocket and grabbed his phone. he tried to grab it but you held it high in the air with one hand, as the other pushed him away roughly. you jumped on your bed and turned it on. and lo and behold there was a notification from myspace. *to: kickass from: *user* 'dear kickass, i just wanted to comment about how much i appreciate you, well everyone does. so keep up the great work and keep kicking ass!'*

you gasped loudly, finally confirming your suspicions. "oh my god! oh my god! oh my godddddddd." you sat down while kicking your feet. "ok i know how this looks but i swear im no-" he started to tell another lie before you cut him off. "why didn't you tell me?! dave lizewski you are such a d-bag, im your best friend and you didn't tell me? this is fucking major!" he sat down slowly. your smile faded as you caught his expression. he looked...sad. like he was embarrassed. he spoke softly, "i just didn't want you to think-" you cut him off again, "that your a famous fucking superhero who kicks peoples asses for fun?!" you both laughed before he begun to speak again. "no....that i was a costume wearing loser. i mean i know im your best friend but your cool. cooler than any 'famous fucking superhero' and i like you too much to seem like a weirdo around you." his voice was barely above a whisper, he probably thought you wouldn't be able to catch that last part but you absolutely did.

you and dave had known each other for what seemed like forever, and despite your crush on kickass, your crush on dave trumped that completely. but you kept it to yourself out of fear of rejection. you two sat in silence for a few seconds as you calculated what you wanted to say. you wanted to be bold, and to tell him how much you liked him. you took his hands in yours and he looked up slowly.

"listen here, you could be wearing nothing but a speedo and a pink wig and i would still think your the coolest guy in the world. i wish you told me sooner, because i want you to trust me dave. and i like you too much to be kept in the dark." you repeated his words back to him as your faces were inches apart and his hands were sweaty in yours. but in this moment you didn't even care. you stared at his lips before pushing your face into his. he was still for a second before he ran his hands up your arms and cupped your face. he pulled back quickly leaving you confused, "so does this like mean you like be back? or am i wrong cuz like i dont-" you laughed at his ramblings "yes idiot, i like you back. and if you wanted..we could make this official. you and me." he smiled as a blush creeped onto his cheeks. "like girlfriend boy- wow. um yea totally. do you like wanna be my girlfriend?" you mirrored his smile quickly, "yes, kickass i would love to be your girlfriend."

[thatdeadaquarius]

Reader that can emit sounds from their memory(like as an aura)

Walk into a room? Why do I hear boss music

Comedic timing? Fuck yeah.

Bored? Jumpscare noise.

Zhongli talking? Jeopardy theme.

Someone is annoying? Earrape.

Think about it!

Hello! I’m the 12th Harbinger, aka as CHIL- bitch shut the fuck up, WHATS UP ITS YA BOY AQUARIUSSS- /ref

lmao imagine you walking into a room like this in teyvat, with like that audio I SAVE BY GIVING IT CPR- TIGHT AS VIRGIN BOY DONT GET NERVOUS-

(also ill stop apologizing for the late replies to these, bc as we all know by now that im slow and u will get answered eventually i promise tumblr most likely didnt delete u guys asks im just hoarding them LMAO)

I’ve been super busy running in circles so sorry about ghosting! I still very much enjoy and love u guys and love seeing you guys enjoy my stuff :’) 

Still cant believe that, but thank you!

JEOPARDY THEME MUSIC WHEN ZHONGLI TALKS

HE’D BE SO CONFUSED

THINKIN HE GOT AN ANCIENT CURSE HE DOESNT KNOW ABT PUT ON HIM OR SMTH BC HE’S ALWAYS BEING STALKED BY THIS SONG-

(tbh unless the person is super observant I dont think most ppl would get that it’s YOU causing this chaos lmao)

◇

Like I can see Zhongli eventually getting it lol, other ppl I could see after the first few weeks of interacting with you (esp bc you mix it up, honestly it was only bc u kept playing the jeopardy theme over and over when Zhongli ranted on too long that he got it was you 💀):

Heizou (he’s the best detective on all of Inazuma’s islands, ofc he got it! no he will not acknowledge that he totally thought you were hiding a very musical tanuki somewhere on your person at all times lol)

◇

Alhaitham and Cyno (haitham took like, two hours of walking around town with you and knew, bc he’s a little know-it-all lazy bastard like that, and Cyno is actually just really aware, despite what most ppl think, he’s the General Mahamatra and not just a regular Mahamatra for a reason after all)

◇

Tighnari (i stg he can like, smell when bullshittery is happening in his vicinity …or... hear?)

◇

Venti (unsurpringly, he’s totally in love with this power of yours, i mean he definitely loves you cares about you a lot he says, but you’re starting to think he’s just lying to butter you up into pranking Diluc, Barbara, Jean, and really the entirety of Mondstadt more often  including Zhongli just so he can laugh until he’s on the ground again, also he definitely once asked you to make a dragon sound that’s the equivalent of shouting FUCK at Dvalin when he was flying overhead one day)

◇

Hmm

Hm hm hmmmm

Who elseee, i need a characcctterrr lisstttt…

Albedo (duh, he’s albedo, you think he has an entirely too thick folder dedicated to your recent obsessions, you rant a lot about it while playing and also he can access your browsing history 👀, and he somehow doesn't know that about you?? You’re like, literally one of his long-term, there-for-life, has-bought-a-house-for-free-in-his-head-you- arent-even-on-rent-anymore, hyperfixations or special interests. Autistic!Albedo is autistic, Because I Am Your God, And I Say It Is So.)

◇

Dehya (always knows when its you walking around near her bc you like to listen to your old world’s songs too often when you arent pranking bitches, she actually rlly likes it and your music tastes…)

☆

HOLY FUCK SPEED RUN BC GOD THERE’S TOO MANY BITCHES WANNA BE YOUR BABY, RIDING AROUND IN A DAMN MERCEDES-

OKAY-

SO not all in the same way or at the same time, or even the same length of time did they realize you literally change background music or some shit so I’ll let you just- you know okay- like you get it- you get it.

Xiao, Kazuha, Kaeya, Diluc, Ayato, Yae Miko, Keqing, Qiqi, Klee, Sara, Kuki, Nahida, Ningguang, Rosaria, Scaramouche/Babygirl, Dainsleif, Kokomi, Xinyan, Yun Jin, Yelan. 

Jfc got the whole damn pride flag up here

Anyway everybody else outta luck, at least takes em a month or longer to get it lol

♡

Sorry abt the end there i didnt feel like writing out all those bitches bc the few I did before were already longer than I thought they’d be…

Also, I am posting these spam of drafts (and that old follower 100+ event possession headcanons in prep for the next 2 weeks bc I will be really busy, again :/

Got spring break shenanigans this week, then I’ll be running around like a cat with zoomies bc im getting ready to install/actually submit my artworks for the gallery exhibition! 

…wish me luck or prayers or anything good from any god you believe in, I need the strength. 

With love, safe travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

[blossomwritesthings]

Hii one I loved your recent Minho sickfic, I was wondering if you could write one the other way around but with Felix where he’s sick, (maybe he has a migraine) and the reader takes care of him. 🙁❤️❓

𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab)

genre: sick!fic. idol!felix. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. a lot of angst. felix is sick (with a migraine). reader is soft and caring for him. felix kinda has low self-esteem/doubts about his worth. slight possessive behavior from y/n (in a soft way!!). pet names (affectionately). reader praises felix a ton. toothe-rotting cuteness.

word count: 3.9k

summary: when your boyfriend felix unexpectedly falls ill with a bad migraine, you automatically throw yourself into the caretaker role. but maybe he needs more than just some pills to relieve the pain... maybe, all the medicine he really needs is you.

a/n: this was a fun request to write because having personally suffered from debilitating migraines since i was a little girl, i enjoyed exploring what this could look like for felix, while also incorporating my own experiences with these kinds of symptoms into the fic. lix is so beautiful and I just want to wrap my arms around him and give him a nice, long hug. 🥹💖 NO ONE touch me rn- i'm in my soft felix hours!!! 😭 hope you like this, anon... thanks for requesting! :))

🤎 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌!

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

 You automatically knew something was wrong the moment you stepped into a dark apartment. As the front door slammed behind you, you fumbled to find the nearby light switch before turning it on, throwing the nearby kitchen-dining room into a flood of warm light. 

 Because although this was the time when you usually arrived home from work to find your boyfriend, Felix, sprawled out across the living room couch relaxing and playing his favourite video games on the large tv, the space was devoid of any life. 

 Strange. 

 With a glance at the clock inlaid within the stovetop, it read just a little past ten in the evening. Surely, he must not have been home, otherwise, at least a few lights would be switched on in the apartment. He was probably still at the company, working his ass off in practice or doing vocals lessons. Typical Lee Felix. 

A content sigh fled from your lips as you placed your bag down atop the kitchen counter, your shoulder feeling instant relief from the absence. You closed your eyes for a few moments, basking in the utter silence of the apartment before you made your way into the only bedroom just off to the left. Your shared place with your boyfriend wasn’t very spacious, but it was affordable, and it was your own, and that’s all that mattered. 

 Upon entering the pitch-black bedroom, you let out a low grumble to yourself, “We should just keep on a damn nightlight for when we’re away,” you stumbled about in the darkness before you came in contact with your nightstand and switched on the light. 

 And as soon as the room erupted in brightness, you noticed the figure curled up on the bed. For a moment, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Stopping there, and slowing for a few seconds. Because… had someone broken into your place? A fan, perhaps? Or… a stalker? 

But then, almost immediately after those terrifying thoughts crossed your mind, you recognized the small body. 

 You recognized it all too well. 

 Without even thinking about your next actions, you were flying across the small bedroom. Bending down towards the crumpled form, your gaze came in contact with glassy, dark brown eyes. 

 “Felix- what are you-” You began in disbelief, completely taken aback by his presence. 

 But then he was wincing in pain, closing his eyes again, plush bottom lip quivering just a little bit. “T-The light… can you please turn it off?” His voice was gravelly and low like it hadn’t been used in a while. 

 You didn’t even have to ask why, because you already knew the answer to his odd request. 

  A migraine. 

 And if he was asking for the lights to be off, it must’ve been pretty bad. 

So after you were finished switching off the lamp on your nightstand, you made for the large bay window that was on the other side of the room. You slowly pulled open the curtains until just a sliver of light was filtering through the black-out fabric. After all, you still had to see. 

 Then you were flitting over to Felix again, positioning yourself on the edge of the bed, tilting into him. You reached up to his head and carded a few fingers through his sandy-blonde hair gently. “How long have you had it?” You asked, making sure to keep your voice quiet. His having a migraine wasn’t a new thing. He was highly susceptibly to head pain, and would regularly get headaches throughout the month. But the migraines were always the worst of it all. And with the light sensitivity? That wasn’t a good sign… 

“Woke up with it,” he said in a soft voice. Just then, he cracked his eyes open weakly, his gaze locking with yours. The furrow between his brows and the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks told you all you needed to know about the discomfort he was in. 

 “Which number is this one?” Your fingers took to massaging his scalp in languid increments, watching the way his face scrunched up in apparent relief. 

 “Sixth this month.” 

 “Wow-” You began, your heart throbbing for him. You hated seeing your loving boyfriend in so much pain. And it had already happened six times that month. “What do you think it’s from?” 

 “Stress, probably… that’s what Chan said, anyway.” 

 “What are you so stressed about?” You prodded him, pushing a few of his light strands from out of his eyesight. 

 He groaned and pushed his face into his pillow. “What am I not stressed about?” His voice was muffled against the downy feathers, but you still heard it nonetheless. “It’s… everything, and yet nothing, all at the same time.” 

 “Lix…” You began, voice hesitant, sending a hush across the bedroom. Your fingers stopped their movement in his hairline, your eyes racking over his form. He was clad in his favourite oversized dark blue graphic t-shirt that had a scene from a cartoon that he had grown up watching in Australia. Loose black sweatpants fit snugly around his waist, and he was halfway wrapped up in your bed’s thick duvet comforter. “I’m worried about you…” You trailed off as he moved his head away from his pillow. 

 Biting down hard on his bottom lip, his eyes took on a certain pleading kind of light. “Please… don’t stop.” He all but whispered, motioning towards your fingers that were resting gently atop his head. And the pitiful look on his face just then, the way his voice cracked just a little bit from his misery, forced your chest to squeeze with hurt. 

 “This isn’t healthy for you, baby,” you started up again on the massaging, eliciting a low moan of relief to fall from your boyfriend’s lips. “You need to take a break, yeah?” 

 “How can I possibly do that when everyone is depending on me?” He chuckled in a dry, humorless kind of way. “Besides, this won’t be forever. I’m just getting them a ton because we’re preparing for the new repack and it’s hell at the company right now.” 

 “Still…” Your voice trailed off, as your fingers fled from his hair and swept over one of his temples. His eyelids fluttered at the delicate press of your digits against his heated skin, and a pleased smile spread across your lips. At least you knew how to help him in moments like these. “I just hate to see you feeling so shitty, you know? Want my baby to be healthy all of the time.” 

 At your words, Felix turned from his side so that his back was flush against the mattress. His hair was mussed from sleep and your fingers running through it, his freckled cheeks dusted in light pink from your words. “Damn, have I ever told you how much I love you?” 

 You took a finger and playfully poked at his side, “Yeah, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to tell me again…” You wiggled your eyebrows in a taunting kind of way. 

 And the last thing you saw was his sly grin before he was pulling you towards him. In an instant, he had his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to his warm, comfy body and peppering your face with dozens of light kisses. “Love you… so much, angel.” He mumbled against your skin, pecking each of your cheeks. “Love the way you take care of me, hmm?” 

 You chuckled at that, pressing your mouth against his in a loving, serene kiss. “And I love you too,” you started, before positioning yourself away from him and his searching mouth. “Which is why I wanna take care of you tonight. Will you let me, baby boy?” 

 He tilted in just then and pushed a fervent kiss against your lips once more. “Only if you’ll let me do the same next time you’re feeling shitty.” He rose a dark, perfectly-manicured eyebrow your way. And you knew, at that moment, he wasn’t going to budge. Everything with him was reciprocal. If you helped him in any way, loved him in any form, he felt obligated to return it - usually tenfold. 

 So you merely nodded your head in agreement, “Fine, I’ll allow you to help me next time I’m down and out.” You blew a few raspberry kisses against his cheeks, making him huff out a deep-throated laugh. Then you were separating yourself from him completely. “Now, onto the real business of things… have you eaten anything all day?” 

 It was a common occurrence for him to skip all meals entirely when he had a bad migraine, so it was no surprise to you when the look on his face turned slightly meek.“I just had a light breakfast so that I could take my medicine, but it’s definitely worn off by now, so I need to take some more” 

 Standing up from the bed in one fluid motion, you rested your hands against your hips in determination. “Then it’s set- I’ll make you dinner.” 

 He peered up at you through his wispy blonde fringe, “B-But you just got home from work and-”

 You quickly held a finger up to your lips to silence any of his protests. “Ah- remember what you promised me, baby? That you’d let me take care of you tonight?” You sent him a glare, yet there was not a threat to be had in it. 

 A tiny smirk cracked across his lips, “Yeah, yeah- I remember…” He rolled his eyes at you, before snuggling further down into the bed. He was a literal blanket burrito- covered in sheets and the thick duvet coverlet. 

 “Anything you’d like in particular?” 

 “Nah- I love everything you cook.” 

 You tossed him a laugh as you headed for the closed bedroom door, “Ha- tell that to Minho… who’s apparently, the local sous chef around these parts.” 

 As you filtered out of the bedroom, you heard your boyfriend’s laugh follow behind you. At least your presence could take his mind off of the pain. He always said it did. He told you on multiple occasions how having you around him in times like these helped to alleviate some of the discomfort in his head. How, you were like a cooling salve to the throbbing in his temples, always there to support him and give him love when he needed it the most. 

 That night, you awoke to the feeling of shifting on Felix’s side of the bed. Gradually peeling your eyes open and turning your head on your pillow, you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend in the dim lighting of the bedroom. He was sitting up, spine curved, shoulders drawn low, desperately holding his head in his hands. 

 “Baby? What’s wrong?” You asked, concern dripping into your tone as sleep immediately left you. The sight of his slouched form made your heart race because you despised seeing him in such a poor state. 

 “Nauseous.” Is all he could manage to garble out, voice cracking with anguish.

 You chewed on your lip anxiously, pushing yourself up from your pillow and nearing him. You grabbed Felix’s hand, languidly threading your fingers together with his and squeezing gently. “What do you need from me, babe?” You whispered, drawing small patterns against his warm palm with one of your thumbs. 

 A shudder ran through the length of him, as he clutched at his sandy-blonde roots in bated silence, “N-Nothing helps at this point…” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head ever so slowly. 

 “Do you want me to rub your head like earlier?” One of your hands traveled up his spine, stopping just at the nape of his neck. You began to massage circles into his scalp. “Will that help you feel better, Lix?” 

 Then unexpectedly, he was grabbing ahold of your hand in one swift movement. Your eyes widened in surprise at the frantic look in his eyes just then, as they stared back at you in utter distress. “P-Please, don’t touch my head… just makes me feel worse.” 

 You pulled him towards you, enveloping him in a loose hug. He practically melted in your embrace, his muscles softening at your touch. His entire body was so warm - it always was, like he was your very own heated teddy bear - and you wrapped your arms around his waist, squeezing lightly. “Okay, baby. Whatever you need, I’m here for you, okay?” Your lips found his face in the darkness, and you pressed delicate kisses against his skin. When your mouths collided, you kissed him with all of the gentlenesses in the world, and for a few beats, he returned the kisses. 

 After heavy silence had washed over the bedroom, casting everything in a delicate, forlorn kind of aura, you pulled away from him to catch your breath. And even in the darkness of the room, you could see the hint of pink dusted across your boyfriend’s cheeks. “L-Love the way you kiss me, angel,” he whispered, leaning into you to press another tentative kiss against your lips.

 “I’ve always adored your beautiful mouth,” you replied, a tiny smile cracking across your lips when you pulled apart for air once more. You reached up to him then, tracing a finger around the line of his mouth. “So pretty for only me.” Your hand moved away then, as you cupped one of his warm cheeks with your palm, and he instantly eased into your touch. He had told you in the past how your kisses always made him feel a little better. At the height of his agonizing migraines, he said your lips were like a healing cure for him. 

 And for a few moments, it felt like the potion had worked. A small, content smile adorned your boyfriend’s face, and the perpetual furrow in his brow loosened. His eyes brightened just a little bit at your compliment - at your praises - because he always loved when you said quiet, loving words to him. 

 But then, everything fell apart again- 

 You watched in suddenly tense silence, as his entire body nearly doubled over in pain, spine going completely rigid, ears flushing red, bottom lip trembling. 

 Then came the glossy eyes. You recognized them instantly, for it was an absolute sign of what was to come. 

 In a flash of limbs, he was throwing off the duvet coverlet that he had been wrapped up in, racing to the bathroom with you right on his tail. 

 He threw the toilet seat open just in time as he inclined over the basin, emptying the little contents that were left in his stomach. You hadn’t made him a big dinner - it had only consisted of some scrambled eggs and a small bowl of mixed berries. But even still, it was enough to make him nauseous. 

 “Let it all out, baby,” you encouraged. You were at his side throughout it all, rubbing his back gently as Felix retched up everything he could muster, his stomach spasming with the effort. “It’s gonna be okay…” It fucking hurt you so much to see him in such a condition. You despised seeing the love of your life - your other half - suffering so much. 

 It seemed like it lasted forever, but finally- he pushed away from the basin with a deep groan. You quickly leaned over him and ripped up some toilet paper for him to wipe his mouth with. 

 And when you handed it to him, you quickly realized that his eyes were misty, tears running down either of his cheeks, leaving wet tracks behind on his smoothe skin. The sight of your loving boyfriend breaking down irrevocably caused your heart to crack open into two ugly pieces, and you once again wrung your arms around his hips, bringing him into your chest and giving him a tight hug. You two sunk to the cold tiled bathroom floor, close to the toilet. 

 “I-I’m sorry, angel,” he hiccuped in between his sobs. He buried his face into the crook of your shoulder like he was ashamed of what had just happened. 

 “Don’t apologize, Felix.” You said, trying to put some sternness in your voice. Because why in the world did he have to apologize to you? You were his girlfriend, for fucks sake- taking care of him when he felt shitty was the most basic of things for you to do. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” 

 “Y-Yeah, but you’re always taking care of me… it’s a burden on your shoulders that you didn’t sign up for.” He practically wailed, his tears leaving wet stains against your pajama shirt. 

 “I want to take care of you, baby. I fucking love you, and I care about you. And don’t ever say that you’re a burden to me because you’re not.” You tried not to raise your voice in that tender moment, but his words just fueled the deep fire that was always simultaneously burning inside of you. 

 Because he had said such things before, in the past, when the mean and abusive comments online had gotten to him. When it seemed like everyone thought he was a burden, so he had just assumed that he was one to you as well. But in reality, that was the farthest thing from the truth. He wasn’t a burden to anyone; he was the light to so many people’s lives, but especially to yours. He brightened up your day with just his smile alone, and the way that he loved you - wholly and irrevocably - was such an exquisite thing. 

 “You really m-mean that?” His voice splintered at the end of his words, as he hugged you a little tighter, nestling his head into your warmth. 

 “Of course I fucking mean it, Lix,” you began, smoothing down his hair with a palm. “You’re the light of my world- the reason my life is so complete. And I’ll do anything for you.” At that, you were pulling him away from your chest. 

 The tip of his nose was pink and his eyes were bloodshot from the tears. And with one look into his shiny, deep brown eyes, which were dancing with so many different emotions, your heart broke just a little bit more in the pit of your chest. With gentle fingers, your thumbs wiped away his excess tears. At least the crying had stopped. 

 “Please don’t cry, baby,” you whispered to him, desperation dripping into your tone. “I hate to see you cry, Lixie.” You used the nickname that he always liked coming from you, and watched in silence, as it brightened his face just a little bit. 

 “O-Okay,” he nodded his head slowly, hand finding yours and squeezing your fingers there. “I’ll try… and, I don’t want to feel this way anymore, so I’m going to do everything in my power to not get so stressed out.”

 “That’s my good boy,” you laughed softly, reaching up to his head and gently ruffling his hair playfully. Your eyes flitted down to his face, which was shaded a crimson red from your words. You always loved to rile him up, even in the direst of moments. Seeing him blush so furiously did something wonderful to your ego. His blushes were always so... adorable. “How do you feel now?” 

 “A little better… I think that helped,” he canted his head to the porcelain toilet that was just beside the two of you, not wanting to even spell out the words to what had just happened. 

 “See, baby? I told you that you’d feel better,” you gave his shoulder a nudge, offering him a tiny smile. “Now, do you wanna brush your teeth, and then we can get back into bed?” 

 His eyes pulled away from the toilet and locked with yours, and thankfully- a little bit of that Lee Felix sparkle was back in them. Shining in his eyes, although dully. But at least it was there, even if it was a small amount. “Yeah… I’d like that very much.” 

 And with that, you took both of his hands and helped to hoist him up from the hard-tiled floor that the two of you had been sitting on for the last few minutes. You gently brushed his sandy-blonde hair out of his face as he worked at the sink, and when he was done, led him out of the bathroom and back to bed. 

 Leaning down into him, you tucked your boyfriend into bed, fitting the thick white duvet around his small frame. “Are you comfy?” You asked, as you bent forwards and pressed a kiss against his exposed forehead. 

 “No, not until I’m holding onto you,” he said in that deep voice of his, a sardonic smirk widening across his lips. Then, his hands were winding around your forearms, and you were yanked towards him. 

 You landed on top of his chest with a huff, sending a mirthful glare up his way. “I can hardly imagine that this is going to relieve your migraine.” Nevertheless, his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing your bodies close together. 

 “You must highly doubt the power that your cuddling abilities have over me,” he laughed, and at that moment, it felt like it was the first time that he had done so in ages. Gone was the bleary-eyed shaking Felix from before, in the bathroom. That man had been replaced with your Lix… all bright smiles and tinkling laughter making your chest pound with love. 

 “So I guess we’re just gonna fall asleep this way, then?” You rose an eyebrow his way, earning a dark chuckle from your boyfriend. 

 “Only if you want to.” 

 “Oh, I fully intend to lay here until I am physically forced to move. However, I’m just wondering if you’re up for that challenge.” 

 “Are you fucking kidding me, angel?” He tilted up to you then, pressing a fervent kiss against your lips. “If I could be joined to your hip for the rest of my life, I think I’d take up the offer.” 

 A wide smile broke across your face. “It’s settled then, I’ll be staying right here for the foreseeable future.” You said, pressing a light peck against the warm skin of one of his cheeks. 

 Just then, the both of you erupted into a fit of giggles, as Felix squeezed his arms around you tight, and you gave him slobbery kisses on his nose and forehead. 

 And all at once, the pain and heartache and suffering were forgotten, as the air around the two of you danced with love and happiness. Pure adoration glittered in Felix’s eyes, shining across his face in a wide grin. And you were almost positive that your face was mimicking his expression- which was made clear by the warmth that bloomed across your cheeks at his arms squeezing your waist tightly, and how your soul fluttered just a little bit at the way his perfect mouth kissed you again and again.

 Because he wasn’t a burden. 

 He never had been one, and he never was going to be one. 

 Lee Felix was perfect just the way he was; small frame, fragile spirit, migraines and all. 

 All of it was utterly perfect. 

 He was like an ethereal little pixie, all rainbows and sparkles and butterflies, and everything pretty and warm and bright in the world. 

 And the best part of it all? 

 Was that he was all yours. 

 And you weren’t planning on sharing all of him with the rest of the world - you were only going to allow the outer-most parts of him for everyone else to see and cherish. 

 But the most-beautiful bits of his spirit? 

 Of his soul?

 The tender moments, the sweet kisses, the serene smiles, the silky words? 

 Yeah, you were going to keep those locked away nice and tight inside your heart, so that only you had access to the innermost parts of Lee Felix. 

 Fin. 

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© ʙ��ᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[cyberbabyangell]

₊˚⊹☆ persistence (shifting/manifest)

hi its soren writing this from the innerspace (⸝⸝ ˊᗜˋ⸝⸝ ) (i swear ill explain what it is one day)

so, as i've stated before i'm very new at this mindset of "I have everything, just need to remind myself. The 3d will follow through" so of course I had a thousand questions. And I assume there's a lot of people that do too. So I'll answer myself in hopes it'll help some of u guys!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"What am I supposed to persist on, as people say, if I'm on the mindset I have everything?"

I was very confused when I was told to persist, and I believe "reminding" would be a better term for me! Persisting in my eyes means constantly repeating something to get what I want. But persistence in manifestation is reminding yourself that you have what u want!

"But how do I persist?"

Depends what you like to do! Yesterday, I saw someone say they would not put effort into shifting anymore since they know that they are in their DR, and they would only keep trying if they thought they weren't. I understand their POV and support them, but I personally love SATS and robotic affirmations! Everyday I put on subs and repeat the same 2 phrases over and over for 10 minutes. Some people do it for HOURS which is so cool (⸝⸝ ˊᗜˋ⸝⸝ ) Some people continue their methods like before, just in a different mindset.

"How do I ignore my 3D?"

I stubbornly tell myself all the time "i dont care if i dont see it, it is here anyway". In the beginning there was this tiny voice in my head being like "..i dont see it which makes me doubt a lil." But I kept through and I'm starting to be able to ignore these thoughts or push them aside. If you find yourself doubting, just convince yourself. Its like in meditation, if you find yourself getting sidetracked, acknowledge it and move forward!

"How long will it take?"

However long you want it. After reading many success stories, some people take a month, some a couple weeks, some days, some hours, some seconds to have their desires! So that made me confidently believe, "Well, then, I can get whatever I want right now because I said so." It can take longer if you're looking for validation in the 3D. If I had to write a step by step it'd be,

1. Choose what you want

2. Acknowledge you have it

3. Let it go

4. If you doubt, remind yourself you have it 🎀

Which is why some people shift by being like "Damn, I'm in my UA dorm right now." And falling asleep!

"Will affirming be enough?"

What you deem to be enough will be enough! You're the boss, if you think visualisation is enough, then it is! If you believe a single sentence and a couple seconds a day is enough, then it is!

"What if I get demotivated?"

Please, never ever give up. Keep trying, keep reminding yourself you have it all. Please stop looking at the 3D ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ It's hard right now, but what is a couple years/months/weeks/days of trying against eternal freedom? Remind yourself why you started this, take a break! Do what you like but it's sooo important you don't give up.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Lastly, as you persist, you'll find your way of thinking actually changing. It won't be too long before you won't have to force your beliefs into yourself, if you persist, you'll believe! Your mind isn't stupid, it learns, if you spoon feed it a fact everytime it doubts it then at some point, it'll be like, "Oh right, I have everything! So shifting is like another desire!" And BAM! 💥

[theknightmarket]

I still think about Chase Me a lot and it.

Hmgh. 🙏

Not a lot of Murdock content that goes into his potential motives.

"You're a special case."

In which Murdock's cat and mouse chase comes to an end. TW: cursing, mention of murder Pages: 16 - Words: 6,500

[Requests: OPEN]

They got him.

They got him.

They’d trapped him in a corner and wrapped the cuffs around his wrists. He was sitting in a cell, chained to the desk, waiting to be interrogated.

If they hadn’t called you, you would have forced your way into the police department anyway, regulations be damned. But they were smart, or maybe they just remembered the last time you were kept from the end of your case – either way, you had been writing up a very particular, very private report when your phone began to ring. You nearly didn’t answer it, too determined to finish off the last paragraph of the page before someone could interrupt, but it buzzed once, twice, thrice, and then you grabbed the thing and pressed the call button. Your mouth hung open at the half-way point of a cursing out when the officer who called you spurted out the very words that kept ringing through your head like a church bell.

They got him.

They had captured the Serotonin Serial Killer, and he was waiting in interrogation room C to be questioned by a detective. You made the forty-five-minute drive into twenty, flashed your badge at the receptionist, and didn’t say a word to anyone as you dashed through the hallways of the bustling building. Officers pressed themselves against the wall to avoid being barreled into, knowing you were on the warpath just from the look on your face. Though, it was no secret where you were headed. Your little stint with the man of the hour was kept between the two of you, but people had picked up on your sudden determination to solve the cases. When you worked sixteen-hour shifts, whispers took your place in leaving your office building and returning to your apartment. Rumors spread, some nice, some rude, all patents of the news agency; apparently one of his victims was your sister or uncle or second cousin thrice removed, because it gave you a motive and you were obviously the most important in the case to grant one. Never mind the guy slitting the public’s throats, the detective who was doing their job had to have a personal reason.

But your gripes with the press and other detectives were nothing you were focused on; distantly, you heard the taps of your shoes against the clean tiles towards the room, the times new-roman C blazing against the white wallpaper outside of a locked door.

You opened it without a second thought.

“It’s you.”

“You sound surprised, sweetheart.”

Murdock sat there, as you expected, chained, as you expected, grinning from ear to ear, as you expected. You imagined he was the first to be smiling so wide in the cold steel of a police chair, bound to the table in front of him. He was still adorned in his usual outfit, a red turtleneck and black trench coat, with blood splatters barely noticeable even in the scrutinous glaring of energy-efficient lights. The only thing that put you ill at ease was the crack in his sunglasses. It brewed a pit in the bottom of your stomach as your thoughts fled to assumptions that only helped to deepen it.

But you didn’t verbalize your suspicions that someone had put a hand on the man before you, the only indication that it crossed your mind being the heightening of your shoulders and an overtaking scowl. Instead, you simply locked the door behind you and dropped into the chair across from him. “You got caught,” you stated bluntly, his eyes following your descent, and it felt wrong to be able to see part of his iris.

“I did,” Murdock admitted. “Well done, you cuffed me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

You couldn’t keep the venom out of your tone, but you didn’t entirely want to. What you wanted to do was find the officer who caught him, ask them how they did it, and then find out exactly how his glasses got shattered so you could repay the favor. You assumed the plan came from your innate distaste of the police force and the rest of the detectives – you relied on the idea so that the thought could pass your mind without worry for the real sentiment behind it. And it almost did.

Murdock, helpfully, brought it back. “Jealous that you’re not the only detective in my life?”

“And if I am?”

“I’d appreciate it.” Damn his charming smile. He leaned forward in his seat, balancing his head on one of his hands, and flashed his grin at you like some kind of reward. It made you tense up, aided by the chill of the metal chair but by no means outweighed by it. You didn’t like this. The uncertainty of your emotions. In your last encounter, you were so certain of your anger towards him and his constant evading of capture, and yet there you were, with the man himself in front of you and definitely captured, fighting a losing battle against your own mind to convince yourself you weren’t swayed by him.

“Good thing I’m not, then.” You ignored the spark in Murdock’s eyes that hinted at his doubt. “How’d you get caught?”

“I killed somebody.” You almost laughed. It wasn’t as though he would be in the same room as you for shoplifting given his track record, but you let him continue without interruption, “Jemimah Pims. Fraud. I got spotted going into her office by a receptionist.”

You knew the name. Pims was big in public service chains that weren’t fast-food; she’d always hated the things, so she pulled a complete 180 and threw herself into high-class wine bars and five-star restaurants. Go figure, she didn’t start those businesses with legal money in her pocket, and that was where Murdock came in. The issue was that you didn’t believe that was his place. You’d seen him take revenge for affairs, prejudiced, miscarriages of justice – not money laundering. And getting a witness?

He must have misinterpreted your skeptical expression, because he followed himself up with, “She’s perfectly fine. Probably clearing up a couple of meetings that are going to go unattended.”

That didn’t help quell your suspicions. Of course, the receptionist was indeed alive, she had been the one to report him, after all, but that wasn’t the part you doubted.

“Let me rephrase that; why’d you get caught?”

You hit the nail on the head. The missing shard of his glasses was enough for you to see his iris, and that was enough for you to see his true feelings. That must have been why he kept them on so much, but they weren’t helping him now. Any excuse he might have made was wiped off the drawing board, and he knew that, too.

Almost reluctantly, he answered, “You’ve been awfully busy lately.”

“You can’t just kill someone because you want attention.” You interrupted a useless continuation that he didn’t even get to start. Of course, you had been busy in recent weeks, but that meant you had enough on your plate already without him piling it sky high.

A few days after your interaction on the roof of the theater, you were handed a case file from the higher-ups. Manila folder, top secret stamp, the whole cliché that made you want to bash your head into your desk. Your actual desk, mind you, the one that had been slightly bloodied by James Pratt. Everything was cleared up relatively fast, the funeral was scheduled for two months’ time, and you were back to work like it had never happened, like there was never a body of a friend draining into the floorboards. That folder, though, pushed it further back into the recesses of your mind; it was a political assassination attempt that you were shocked it landed on your task list. However, it was definitely there, and it was definitely high up on the list, so much so that you barely had time for yourself, let alone the serial killer watching you from another office building’s fourth floor. You supposed that Murdock reached his boiling point quicker than you.

One of your hands leapt to the bridge of your nose while the other ran through your hair. This job was pure stress without a serial killer giving you bodies because he wanted you to look at him.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

He stretched out his hands in an attempt at a shrug, but the cuffs limited how far his dramatics could go. To compensate, he brought his ankles up to cross them over the table. You could already feel the headache brewing, and the incompetence of the cops around you was certainly not helping. Hadn’t they read a single guidebook or, hell, watched a crime movie? It didn’t have to be one of the good ones, either, for them to figure it out that the criminal needed to be chained by the arms and legs to the table. You were so, so close to wringing someone’s neck – whether that was Murdock or the incompetent police. Really, anyone within a twenty-foot radius was at risk.

But you couldn’t, no matter how much your hands itched at the thought. Instead, you took a long, deep breath, in and out and in and out. A pitiful chuckle bubbled up in your throat. “Jealous that you’re not the only serial killer in my life?” you asked, somewhere between sarcastic and genuine.

“Yes.”

Too bad.

“So, what now?” you asked, to which you only got a raised eyebrow in response. “You’re in a police station, Serotonin.” His pout became more noticeable. “How do you plan to get out of this one?”

“Who says I plan to get out of it?”

“You wouldn’t sacrifice your entire career to get some one-on-one time with me. You’re not stupid.”

There was a glint of pride peeking out from the edge of the sunglasses. The rest reflected back onto him, but it was enough for you to see, notice, and feel the rush of blood to your cheeks and ears. Your moral compass told you it was wrong, behind wrong, to be happy with his silent praise, but that thing was long since broken. You wouldn’t trust it to tell you the ethics of kicking a child into the road to stop a wayward fruit cart.

“Hmm, well, as much as I’d like to, you’re right; I can’t just abandon it all for one person, no matter how gorgeous they are.” You had half a mind to find an ice bucket to dunk yourself in. If only to yourself, you would admit you didn’t get complimented often – on your work or otherwise. It wasn’t for a lack of anything, but the general verdict wherever you went was to never initiate conversation unless someone didn’t like the look of their head on their shoulders. It happened often in the detective department, and that was where you spent the majority of your time – the rest was in your apartment, alone and whiling away hours until you got back to work.

But you weren’t allowed to dwell on that depressing thought for much long, before Murdock started talking again, leaning as far back into his chair as the cuffs let him go. “There are moles in the police, sweetheart,” he teased, “you said it yourself. Not one person here can’t be bought or blackmailed. The boys standing outside this two-way mirror, for example.” He turned to smile in the direction of that very mirror. You couldn’t see the officers outside, obviously, but you could imagine them sweating through their blue jackets, not only because they were caught but because Murdock had that look. The one that told whoever he was staring at that this would be their last day, like making eye contact with the grim reaper. Except instead of a bleached skull and hollow pits, he was a beautiful masterpiece come to coax you into the ‘sweet embrace of death’, as the saying went.

“I can taste the corruption from here. It didn’t take long to find out about the affairs and gambling.”

“I thought your whole thing was indiscriminatory vigilante justice. Moles don’t count?”

Vividly, the body of Pratt sprang to your mind. Still warm on the floor of your office. Head turned so that his check was mashed into against the grain. Eyes glassy like a frosted window.

Even though his gaze returned to you, you felt his words pierce the air as knives thrown to the mirror. “Oh, they do. I’ll kill them when I’m done here.”

Murdock was happy with himself. Proud of his work that rewarded him with this scene – two police officers paling from behind a wall, a detective sitting across him wearing a blush and a scowl, and himself haphazardly chained to the table. He wouldn’t have traded it for anything else. He sometimes, on the days when things were, the days when he was positioning old bodies or stalking new ones, when he had time to himself, he wondered what it the outcome would have been had it not been you assigned to his case. He couldn’t imagine the boredom; he didn’t give a damn about the press or the public, whether they were scared of him or in awe. When he first started this whole thing, he hadn’t even cared about the people chasing him, and, mostly, he still didn’t. But then there was you. A grizzled detective with a chip on their shoulder and enough experience with the law to sate thirty juniors. Murdock loved his job, but you made it that little bit more interesting.

Only, he could have done without your next question.

“Do I count?”

His head shifted to stare directly at you, his shattered focus pulled into one place, your expression of curiosity, doubt, a tinge of daring.

You continued, that tell-me-I’m-wrong look overtaking the rest of the emotions, “I let you get away with de Gaille and Lochlin. Doesn’t that make me a killer by association?”

Technically, he supposed it did. After all, he’d killed people for less. However, that wasn’t meant to be your ending. You weren’t supposed to be a pig on a hook in the butcher’s backroom.

“You’re a special case, love.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to help me get out.”

Your immediate thought was to resist. Mouth open to tell him a stern no and legs ready to storm from the room, you were sure Murdock saw, but he didn’t act. He just watched as your shoulders heightened and your grimace deepened. He just watched as you stayed seated, though the discomfort showed. 

“Your boys can’t do that?” you asked.

He shook his head. “They’re at the window because two officers have to be. They won’t go near me with a ten-foot pole, or without a foot of concrete between us.” A light chuckle bled into his words, accompanied by the flash of an eye and the corner of his lip perking up. “You, though, have been much, much closer. And you have nothing for me to play on, except for a little bit of affection.”

“Affection, is that what it is?” the scoff escaped you before you processed his words, and it was just as well. You didn’t want a serial killer to know he was – on the most basic level and not even that much and only if you wanted to actually define it and you certainly didn’t – correct. You did feel something for the man sitting before you, leaning casually back in the steel chair of the interrogation room, but you wouldn’t admit it aloud.

“Romantic, sexual, aesthetic, whatever your attraction is. It stops you from letting me fry, as you like to put it.”

“It stops me from letting you die, but that’s where it ends. Locking you up, I’m fine with that.” You were getting faster, pitifully desperate to prove to him, to yourself, to the two officers standing outside that you were not tied to him in any way. You had no reservations about keeping him behind bars. Despite that, it wasn’t the thought at the forefront of your mind – pride and place belonged to the reassurance that it wasn’t that simple. For one second, you assumed that you did enjoy his company and looking at him and his charismatic whisperings that set something aflame in your heart. You still couldn’t abandon everything to run after this maniac. You couldn’t. You couldn’t.

“Are you?”

Were you?

A horrible feeling of dread washed over you, thrown to-and-fro in the rush of the river Styx, your lungs filled with water, and you struggled to keep afloat. It wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be. There were so many other factors at play. Your life, his life, his job, shit, your job. You were a detective sent to wrap the handcuffs around Murdock’s wrists.

As if he sensed your crumbling façade of calm, he pushed, “You’ll have to pick a side, of course.” You hated to admit it, but the choice would be easy, if you could convince yourself to acknowledge that you did have a choice. Left or right. You didn’t have to consider the nuance of it all, no matter how much you wanted to. The answer your heart made for you blazed in your mind, but trails of fog tried to cover it with questions and consequences.

“Sitting on the fence isn’t an option.” His tone was strangely gentle, like coaxing an injured animal from their hiding place. “If you let me out or if you lug me to a cell yourself, I’ll know where you stand. Hell, I’ll even give you a week to change your mind. But you can’t just leave and wash your hands of it all.”

Responsibility. That was the thing at the crux of his decisions. Who lived and who died all depended on responsibility. The corrupt decided their own sentences when they played both sides off against each other. Police and aristocracy, politicians and the church. The hypocrites were the ones with their necks on the block, and Murdock wielded the axe. He hoped that you would see that, and maybe, if you wanted to, find a handle for yourself.

The distance between the two of you seemed to close. The desk turned to mist. The walls around you felt as though they’d constricted without you noticing.

“Think about it, love.” You didn’t need to think, that was the worst part. “You can go back to your boring job where you aren’t respected or cared about, and you can file reports about a teenager’s accidental arson while the bigger cases are picked off by fat cats who just want the reputation and money.” You didn’t need to be convinced. “Or you can come with me and use justice how it should be used. How you want to use it.”

Heart thundering in your chest so loud you thought it might burst – but then you wouldn’t have to make a decision so maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad – the rest of your body stayed paralyzed with fear. Not of Murdock, of course not, but of the fact that you wanted to go with him. In a split second, you’d made your choice, and you didn’t need his fancy words to encourage it. You weren’t some injured animal, you were a detective who had lost faith in the system, leaving only a struggle with your morals and upbringing to contest with, two things that were fading fast from your mind.

Meanwhile, Murdock struggled with the twitch of his hand that compelled him to comfort you. He had never been a sympathetic person – most murderers weren’t – but he didn’t like this look on you. At least, he liked it much less than the vivid rage you so often sported, particularly when it was for him. This was a distressed look that he didn’t mean to cause. Give him the fireworks and the explosions and the sparks, not the earthquakes that rocked the very place he stood and threatened to knock him off his feet entirely. Deep in his chest, he wanted to exchange that expression for anything else, but he found him options vastly limited by the cuffs. His mouth dropped open, seconds away from offering kind words, but they had done enough.

Luckily, that enough was in the direction that he wanted.

You didn’t speak as you got up from your chair and walked to the door. You lifted your hand but switched courses quickly, aiming not for the handle but for the ring of keys hanging on the wall next to it. One of them would unlock the handcuffs. One of them would set Murdock free and damn you to a life of crime in one movement. You had witnesses, after all, and your own conscience wouldn’t let you be a traitor to either side.

When you were close enough, he reached out to you. A hand caressed down your arm as far as the metal would let him go. His contact sparked against your skin while the clang of the cuffs hitting the table rang out in the room like a church bell. When he was free, he did the most unexpected thing you would ever believe he chose to do.

Murdock wrapped an arm around your waist and shifted the hand that was on your arm around your shoulder. He was surprisingly cozy, like a warm-blooded animal, in the din of the interrogation room. As you stood frozen, half from his action and half from the reality of your own setting in, he tightened his grip and dipped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, words muted by his closeness to you, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind one bit. In fact, slowly, you drew your arms around him, too. 

“When we get home, we’re talking about this.”

He pulled back at that, barely enough for you to properly hear his question of, “Home?”

It went unanswered, but he had already gotten a sentence out of you, and that was much more than he could had ever expected. You propped your hands against his chest to subtly move him further from you, eyes cast down and expression downcast.

“Stay here.”

He followed your order easily, considering it was just him standing in the room while you left into the hallway. Both of you knew it would take just one turn of the key to lock him inside, a couple of steps to tell someone that he needed to be locked up as soon as possible, a quick course of action that would relieve you of all your guilt. Murdock wouldn’t hold you to it, because you still chose a side. It just wouldn’t be the one he wanted.

When you returned with a hat and jacket – and, unbeknownst to him, the image of those two officers paralyzed with fear seared into your mind’s eye – he felt his shoulders relax and a pleasant smile take over his lips. Pleasant wasn’t a word often used to describe anything to do with Murdock, but you had a strange way of breaking the norms, and he didn’t mind it one bit. He even let you manipulate his arms like a doll into the flimsy material before you dropped the cap onto his head. It dipped over his forehead slightly, so you adjusted it until you could just see his eyes out of the shadow.

“You don’t say a word until we’re out of this building and into my car,” you ordered, and Murdock thought it best to acquiesce. It was the least he could do after this whole situation that he put you in.

Briefly, he nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He had.

But the next course of action was simple; you left the keys on the hook as you opened the door, unceremoniously shoved Murdock by the shoulder into the hallway, and lead him into the entrance. You had never been more appreciative of the other officers’ reactions to you. Seeing them jump out of your direct path like they’d been set on fire was good for you, if not practically – given you were escorting a serial killer out of the precinct – then emotionally. Nobody tried to look at the man in step by your side, mostly because they were too afraid to cast their gaze anywhere near you. Before, you might have felt disappointed at the reaction, but, if Murdock was right, they were no better than you.

You really hoped he was right.

You made it to your car promptly, and he was soon to round the hood to get into the passenger seat while you swung the driver’s door open. You almost drove off without looking in your back seat, your hand still on the keys in your ignition when you noticed the pile of equipment in the middle of the bench. Duct-tape, zip-ties and lo-and-behold, your original gun. It was as clean as the day Murdock had taken it from you.

Speaking of – you turned to look at the man next to you, who wore the most sheepish expression you would have imagined fit on him.

 “Seriously?” you asked.

“I wanted to be prepared in case you put up a fight.”

“You were going to kidnap me?”

“Only for a day or two.” Your eyes narrowed, and he took that as a sign to rush to his own defense. “Just long enough for you to come around. I would never kill you.”

How comforting. It was weird that the thought was half-genuine; you were indeed glad that he had never planned on ending your life.

Sarcastic or not, you muttered a, “thanks,” as you pulled out from your parking space and started the journey home.

Murdock was a surprisingly quiet travelling companion. You expected him to be chatting your ear off about his latest kills, their crimes, their lives, their deaths, etcetera, etcetera. The only thing noise he made, though, was his humming along to the radio’s soft rock. Some instrumental had him tapping his fingers along the window’s edge in its rhythm. If you hadn’t been driving away from a police interrogation, it might have been sweet. And even if you were…

But the magic didn’t last forever. You pulled into your apartment’s parking lot, the three scuffed paint lines amongst those alleyway dumpsters and loose beer cans constituting for one, and you turned off the engine. You didn’t live in a nice part of town, you knew that, and you weren’t ashamed. Sure, you spent most of your time in your office, but that wasn’t because you were embarrassed to live in the building. It was just easier for you, to the point that your apartment was more of a second home, like the grandparents’ that you used to spend every second Wednesday at.

You locked your car door when you were out, then made your way to Murdock’s side.

“This is your place?” he asked, shutting his own door behind him.

“What, you’ve never seen it before?”

“I steered clear of your intimate life.”

The image of the equipment that was still in your backseat had you raising an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s where you draw the line?”

“I didn’t want to rush it.” You didn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, nor did you stop yourself from grabbing Murdock’s hand and tugging him towards the front of the building. From the outside, it looked like your standard run-down-rat-dream, but you’d taken the liberty of sprucing up your own rooms. It lessened the fear in your heart about showing your new partner – in crime.

Said man shot a look down to your hands. “No, I much prefer you doing this out of your own volition.”

The lobby of your building served its purpose. It had a reception table, a door to the breaker box and other things up-keep, and a staircase that led to the rest of the floors. There was only one other door on this level, which was for the owner’s place, but he was either hardly ever there or rotting on his couch, based on how little you saw of him. Another plus was that there were no cameras, but that was only a positive for right now. You would certainly be more worried about smuggling in a murderer had there been sufficient security measures.

So, with the ease of this mission, you took Murdock up to your apartment relatively easily. The other occupants of the building stayed put in their rooms as you went up the steps, before you stopped on the fifth floor. It took a second for you to fish your keys out of your pocket, but, when you had and you’d twisted them into the lock, Murdock let out a little whistle.

You were proud of the work you’d done to fix the place up. When you had first bought it, it was more of a trash dump than a living space – you hadn’t made it three steps without tripping on a bunch of tied up newspapers, which got you into the immediate mindset for clearing it up. The cleaning was over by the first day, the repairs by the third, and the refurbishment by the end of the week. All on your dime, mind you, but you were fine with that. It just meant that if and when you moved out, you would take everything with you.

Now, it was made into an actual home with crimson wallpaper, a plush couch, a bookcase in the corner and, the thing that Murdock took most notice of, an empty fish tank.

You closed the door behind Murdock as he sashayed to the centre of your front room.

“I didn’t see you as a fish owner,” he commented.

“I’m not.” You hung your jacket on the rack beside you. “Never spent enough time here to look after them.”

It was a sad tale you never liked to tell. Three betta fish and two weeks at the office was the most you let slip when people asked.

But, instead of asking, Murdock flopped back onto the cushions behind him and tucked his hands underneath his head. “Cozy.”

You were able to see his closed eyes when you sat on the coffee table. He looked peaceful, if you could ever call him peaceful. For a moment, you thought he might have checked out early and fell asleep.

His voice nearly startled you, but it only made you squint your eyes and cross your arms on your knees. “You wanted to talk,” he prompted.

“What’s the arrangement now?”

“I assume this is a one-bedroom and I don’t like sleeping on the couch.” He opened his eyes only to wink with the one you could see between the cracks of the glass.

You admonished him firmly. “Murdock.” For you, this was a turning point in your entire life. You didn’t believe in that second chance after death – not that you imagined you would get a good one after this – so you needed to make this count.

“There we go,” he whispered, a smug tone made by you finally saying his real name aloud.

As much as you’d like to continue his banter, easier now that you could actually talk to him in the privacy of your own home, you needed to be secure in your thought process. “Am I quitting my job?”

“Yes.” Blunt, but effective. That was better for you. “But you still have a week to mull it over. Not that I think you’ve made the wrong choice—” His hand jumped back to where it had once been in yours, “—You can do more work out here than you ever could as a detective.”

Whether that was true or not, you both believed it. Murdock had since his first kill, and you were steadily getting further and further from the fence.

“So, I’m joining you.”

“If you feel so inclined.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you like.”

“You’re being vague.”

“Sweetheart, this is your life.” As if to punctuate his point, he brought you closer by your hand. Your heart thudded in your chest while the memories from your first one-on-one flooded back. “You can come out stalking with me or go off on your own.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. He was right. You assured yourself that, yes, this was your life. And you’d chosen to spend it taking the law into your own hands.

Now, your questions were for the simple act of asking questions. You needed time to process it, and listening to Murdock talk was surprisingly helpful. “Then why pull me off the force?”

“I saw what they were doing with you. You told me. I certainly won’t take credit for your work, and you’re not restrained by paperwork or legalities. I just wanted to open you up to more effective opportunities.” He leaned closer, almost out of his seat. “And, as much as I’ve loved our game of cat and mouse, it’s hard to carry on a relationship when you run the risk of shooting me anytime we meet. Although, I do love the danger. Complicated, isn’t it?”

“Not really.”

When you’d first become a detective, you would have never imagined that your career would end like this. Shot in the line of duty, punched a higher up, retired at a nice, old age to a farm in the countryside. Those were the scenarios you’d thought up all those years ago. And yet, you liked this outcome. It filled you with some kind of excitement when you thought about finally dealing with the other detectives you’d seen. And Murdock, oh, Murdock, he was your favorite part.

That was why you didn’t need any encouragement to dive forward and connect your lips with his. He was immediately receptive to the kiss, using his hand to pull you towards him. All the stress of joining a murderer melted away with the contact. Sparks danced along your skin where he drew his other hand from your arm to your shoulder to your neck. Undoubtably, you were touch-starved, you’d known that for a while, and that made the fire grow quicker than you thought it would. The dance you’d been doing with each other for months was nothing in comparison to the dance of your lips. It was less infuriating for you, and more prideful for Murdock. The little sounds that escaped your mouth as you shifted to get more comfortable gave him a boost to his ego that he really didn’t need. Still, he smiled while you pushed deeper. 

This was his prize. You would never admit it, but Murdock knew that you knew that he won. He wasn’t sitting pretty in a cell, he was sitting pretty on your couch, with a view, not of iron bars, but of a gorgeous detective who had practically pledged their life to him. He leaned back just an inch to breath, letting you do the same, in order to get a good look at you.

The breath was worth nothing when you knocked it out of him, anyway. Disheveled was a good look on you.

“I’ve made my choice,” you muttered, “and I don’t intend on going back on it now.” That statement made his heart quicken, more than fleeing any crime scene could ever cause.

His curiosity was piqued when you straightened your back and looked towards the bookcase.

You got to your feet as you said, “Oh, that means I can show you something.”

Murdock watched you rush to where you were looking. You grazed a hand across the dusty surface, eyes skipping through the spines to find the thing you were searching for. When you turned around again, Murdock saw not a book, as he would have guessed, but a manilla folder.

After your rooftop meeting, you had done some research. You used to tell yourself it was to keep tabs on the other detectives, so that you could possibly guess who Murdock would go after first. Now, you admitted that it was just to dig up some dirt.

You fell back next to Murdock on the couch, bringing a foot onto the coffee table. The folder was tossed open in your hands by the weight of the papers inside, and there were a lot of them, each separated with a tab. One name, one last name, was written per tab.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out what this was.

“Oh, I love you,” he sighed as he flipped through some of the documents. It was a dream come true for him. The background check was the most boring part of the process, he much preferred the chase. With you, he had gotten all of his information from talking to you, and he only stayed entertained because it was you. In your hands was the golden ticket to avoid all of that messy business.

Murdock was so happy that you chased him.

“I love you, too,” you replied, bringing a hand up to grab at his jawline. If it were any other moment, he might have teased you, but he was too busy falling in love with you, as if the cat and mouse schtick hadn’t been enough for him already. He was looking forward to getting your claws back. 

“So,” he whispered into the minimal gap between you, “Pierce or Vanderbilt first?”

You dropped your head, hitting his lips with a light laugh. It was the first time that you wondered what your life had become in a grateful sense.

[I don't actually think that this was a request, but I also think of Murdock way too much to only have one fic about him. Hence... you get this. I hope you enjoyed <3!]