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vmpyria · 11 days

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— SAL FISHER X READER : psychiatrist’s office.

NSFW! p in v, fem!reader, creampie, blowjob, etc etc.

reader is basically my oc, BUT it’s all in the full pov of an x reader fic, so enjoy! i looove prison sal, he wants me so bad teheheheh, i wish i could’ve made him a bit darker, but for this one i wanted to stay with a sal interpretation that fit canon! reblogs and replies motivate me to write more!

your sessions with the mass murderer, sal fisher, are weekly — up until his trial date.

“good morning, mr. fisher.” you said calmly as he was forcefully pushed inside your office. the guards aren’t good people, their position fuels their head with power, making them all believe they were some sort of god.

you frowned as you saw the man stumble after a shove, sal’s gaze was on the floor when sat down. the guards glared down at him.

sal had been pleading not guilty, your job was to examine him mentally, to dissect his mind.

you were tasked to find out why he killed everyone.

in all of your meetings, the man explained a detailed story about his life, about the paranormal activity he came across with. you could even say you believed him, he told his stories clearly.

you asked him the same questions over and over, for him to tell you his past. even with all the repeated questions, he also repeated the same story, no faults, no missing points.

you believed him.

as your meetings progress, you began to enter the realm of..unprofessionalism.

your gaze would linger, your eyes would subtly examine his body, you would stare at his chest, then at the slight chub of his stomach that was covered by his loose inmate uniform.

this wasn’t good.

at night, you would fantasize about him, about what he would be like on top of you, under you, how he would feel between your legs —

it was bad, to the point that when your hand would slip down your pajama pants and all you could think about was him.

you have seen his face too, and for some odd reason..it attracted you more.

you were playing with fire, one wrong move and all of those years spent in university to get your degree would be down the drain.

but, fuck.

you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted him badly.

looking at the man before you, his gaze was focused on you intently.

he knew what was happening, you may think you were sly, but he’s seen your gaze travel, the way occasionally your cheeks would heat up.

you were still professional in your speech, but he knew.

he could see the way your legs crossed and the way your thighs squeezed together.

it was surprising for him. you, his psychiatrist, seemed to be fantasize about him. him? a deformed, scarred, mass murderer that everyone believed was a psycho path.

“how are you today, mr. fisher?” you asked calmly, lowering your glasses so they framed your nose, your hair was held back by a claw clip and overall you looked good, professional and pretty.

sal stared at you, his gaze focused on your pretty face.

he let out a breath, “not good.” he replied.

“whys that?” you asked with a hum, your legs crossing. you let your papers rest on your lap as you stared up at sal.

he let out a small breath, “i’m in prison.” he replied, a bit of attitude laced in his words. you stopped yourself from scoffing.

“well, you killed people, sal. of course it bounded you to end up here.” you stated, looking at him.

sal shrugged his shoulders.

you stared at him and let out a sigh, “is there anything specific bothering you? other than the fact you’re in the facility.” you asked, curious on how he’s getting along with the inmates.

sal hummed, given the fact he had committed mass murder, most of the inmates didn’t mess with him. they didn’t push him around, they didn’t fight him, or any of the sorts.

he’s heard people call him names, but that’s not unusual.

the inmates were scared of him.

though, as time ticked by, other things began to bother him.

privacy wasn’t an option in prison, he was shoved in a room with four other guys, sal keeps too himself, but given the amount of people around him constantly he couldn’t do much to relief his urges.

it’s been weeks now, and though he doesn’t complain, he desperately wants to satisfy himself.

to put it lightly, he wanted to beat his cock until his body couldn’t take it anymore.

“hm,” sal wasn’t sure what to say, honesty is what’s required in your office, but he didn’t have to air out his dirty laundry like this.

you tilted your head slightly, “mr. fisher?” you mused, “is everything alright?” you asked genuinely.

sal raised his gaze back at you and let out a breath, “how do inmates generally relief their..urges?” he asked, his voice trailing off slightly.

it was embarrassing to ask, especially given the fact you were a woman. he didn’t enjoy having to speak of such topics like that, but you where his psychiatrist — you should be able to understand, right?

you were surprised by his question, given that hasn’t been the topic of discussion you expected, but you didn’t mind.

you have learned many things by working in the prison, so you could help.

“well, most prisoners, they find satisfaction between themselves while some go to secluded places and relieve themselves there.” you explained, though your mind was going wild.

the fantasies you had about him were reflowing your brain.

this wasn’t right — this was illegal, you could get in serious trouble for this.

“..i can help you.”

your voice was quiet, you didn’t even think much about what you were going to say until you said it, the need had clouded your head for a moment.

sal stared at you, behind the prosthetic his eyes were blown wide.

what?

now it was his time to squirm, his cock beginning to harden under his orange jumpsuit. he looked down and cleared his throat, staring down at the bulge in his pants. his face was hot.

you swallowed a lump in the back of your throat before clearing it.

“my apologies, i— i wasn’t thinking. im sorry for my unprofessional behavior.” you stammered horrified by your lack of self control.

you grabbed your papers hurriedly, “how about we just continue with your session?” you said, hoping to forget about what just happened, but sal couldn’t.

his cock was hard, straining against his underwear. it was so sensitive too— it had been so long.

his hands were cuffed in front of his body, so in desperate need for relief, sal’s palm pressed against his boner.

you stared at the man, noticing what was happening.

looking around your office, you gulped.

there weren’t any cameras installed in your office, it was something to have the patients feel less paranoid and more relaxed in your office.

you had a button that was there in case of emergencies if anything where to happen.

biting your lip, you stood from your chair was walked around the corner to where he sat. hearing your heels with each step, he looked up at you.

“mr. fisher..do you want help?”

sal’s breathing got heavy behind the prosthetic, where you really going go do this?

you were looking down at him, waiting for his reply, heat pooling between your legs, coating your pretty red panties.

sal shuddered and nodded his head, his hand pressed against his bulge to find any form of friction that can help him.

“we don’t have cameras here..” you said softly, sal scooted his chair back and you slipped between his legs. you slowly sank down to your knees and your hands gripped his inner thighs as you made yourself comfortable.

sal’s legs were spread, manspreading, you looked up at him.

adjusting your glasses, your gaze fell back onto his boner, gently you moved his hand away and pursed your lips.

sal was looking down at you, now that you were so close you could notice how intense his stare is. you even noticed his pupil was large.

undoing the knot of his waist line, you slipped your hands under and shyly pulled his pants and underwear down.

sal shivered at your touch.

he moved his cuffed hands and let them rest on top of your head so they didn’t stand in the way of your actions.

he looked up and let his gaze focus on the wall in front him, he felt your fingers trace his skin, making him a quirm, then your hand wrapped around his shaft.

a groan left his lips as his head bowed down again, lidded eyes watched as you pulled his cock out.

looking up at him, your eyebrows were raised.

slowly, you leaned down and licked his tip, sal’s body shook.

you leaned your head down and pressed your tongue at the based of his cock, you held his dick up and licked from the bottom up, following the line back to his tip before your lips wrapped around the head.

a breath left sal’s lips as his head leaned back, his eyes shutting as he savored the warm, wet feeling of your mouth against his cock.

one hand held his cock at the base, while the other slipping down to fondle him.

holy fuck.

sal’s head felt like it was going to explode. he felt so good with you wrapped around him, it was killing him.

his hands gripped the back of your head and eagerly forced you to down his cock. it felt so good — he couldn’t control his actions.

your head was pushed down, his cock reaching the back of your throat while your face was pressed against his pubic bone.

you gagged, your shoulders shaking, your hands moved to grip his thighs, your nails digging into his pants. your eyes got overwhelmed with tears due to the gagging, but sal was too lost in his own little world.

he panted quietly as he fucked your mouth.

he moved your head up and down with a lot more force than you had imagined before a shaky grunt left his lips.

he kept your lips pressed against the base of his cock as he threw his head back, cum spurted out of his head, filling your mouth.

you almost choked, gagging as the cum slipped down your throat, luckily sal pulled your head back. one of his cuffed hands moving to jerk his shaft, trying to unload all of the pent up cum.

you shut your eyes as sal finished himself off on your face.

thank good for your glasses.

the man panted heavily, his body seeming a lot less tense.

he continued to grip his now softening cock as he regained himself from the fuzzy feeling in his head.

you sighed and took off your glasses, looking at the milky thick liquid that stained the glass.

wiping it off with you thumb, then rubbed the glass with the end of your shirt and then let them rest on the top of your head.

sal let out a deep breath before his hands moved to shove his cock back into his pants.

you quickly regained yourself and stood on your feet, your knees hurting from the extended time spent on them.

quickly remembering you just sucked off a mass murderer you cleared your throat and walked back to your chair. “this never happened, mr. fisher. understood?” you said, looking at sal with a firm look.

the man nodded his head and cleared his throat, “yeah—“ he stammered, his face was still flushed, but due to his prosthetic you couldn’t see.

looking up at your wrist watch, you hummed.

“see you next week, mr. fisher.”

sal couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what happened. it was infecting his thoughts with ideas that made him uncomfortably horny.

practically counting down the days until his next session, he was excited when the day rolled around and he could see your pretty face again.

“fisher!” one of the guards stood outside his cell, looking up, the guards glared down at him. “get up! you have your meeting with dr. ramirez today!” he yelled.

standing up, sal stepped over quietly and let the guards handcuff his arms in front of him.

the path to your office was one that he had engraved in his head, one female guard was walking in front of him, leading the way, while the male guard stood behind him.

after a minutes long walk, the three arrived to your office.

the female guard knocked loudly on the wooden door, hearing a voice call from inside, she opened the door.

“inmate sal fisher is here for his appointment.” she informed, opening the door wide so you could see the man standing by the side.

when you heard the knock on your office door, you had been reading up on sal’s file, again, and again, and again.

the case was so interesting to you, sal looked sane, he wasn’t showing signs of anti social personality disorder, he was polite — so why? you weren’t a skeptic, you believed his story, but a cult that is trying to take over the world? that seemed a bit too far fetched.

your outfit was professional, yet pretty.

a pencil skirt that hugged your hips, a white button down shirt, black thigh high stockings, and heels. your hair was being held back with the same claw clip you used before.

you looked good, though maybe your shirt was too tight for your chest..

“come in!” you called, still reading through the man’s archive. “yes?” you mused when the door opened, upon hearing sal’s name you looked up.

was it already time for his appointment?

adjusting your glasses, you looked up. “oh, yes. let him inside, thank you.” you said, nodding your head.

the male guard shoved sal inside the room and slammed the door shut. the automatic lock clicking.

“good afternoon, mr. fisher.” you hummed, putting your papers aside. “how are you today?” you asked, watching as the man sat down before you.

he hummed in response, “i’m okay.” you nodded, “better than last week, yes?” you asked, beginning to jot down his answers.

“mhm,” he hummed.

“well that’s good! i’m glad to hear you are doing better.” you said, clasping your hands together. “before we begin, is there..anything you would like to mention? about the prison, cellmates, how you have been feeling in the past week?” you listed off, placing your pen down and listening to him intently.

sal stared at you for a moment, his mind drifting up the last session he had with you, he remembered the way your lips pressed against his head, the way your lips wrapped around him — the way he shoved your head down.

he swore he could feel his mouth salivate and his blood swirling.

he cleared his throat, “uh,” he could easily say that his tension only heightened. the fact it was a problematic situation made him ache for you more.

he didn’t know what to say, was he supposed to ask again? to beg for you to help him again?

you sat across from him like before.

after last week, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. the thrill of it all had your mind in a chokehold.

at night, before bed, you would use your vibrator and pretended it was him, you would fuck yourself with it, starting off slow and steady — feeling the way the silicon would press on your walls, then you would increase your speed until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

thought you wished it was the real thing.

the crush you had on this man was wrong, very, very wrong. he killed an apartment complex filled with people, and yet you dreamed about having his cock fill you up.

how sick where you?

biting the inside of your lip, you cleared your throat.

“mr. fisher?” you asked, wondering where his mind had trailed off. he seemed to snap back to reality after hearing you call for him. “uh, what?” he said looking at you.

you squinted, “what are you thinking about?” you mused, asking for the sake of his case. in your assumption, you believed it could be related to the murders, to his past — but no.

he was thinking about when you gave him head, his thoughts filling with other ideas, how would you feel like when wrapped around him?

he paused. “oh, uh—“ he wasn’t sure what to say, you caught him off guard, now he was put on the spot

“you can be honest.” you reassure, trying to stay professional.

he squirmed in his seat, “you.” he replied, glancing away.

oh.

you thought, clearing your throat. “mr. fisher, what happened last week was an act of unprofessionalism..” you paused, “and it shouldn’t be repeated given the circumstances. i put my job at risk over what happened.” you explained, though your mind begged for another time spent with him.

sal nodded in understanding, but he wanted to beg for you to touch him again.

looking away from him, you let out a sigh, leaning back against your chair.

“but..” you began quietly, “if you make it quick, we won’t get caught.” you said, turning your head to stare at him.

sal gulped, feeling his cock twitch in his pants again.

“really?” he asked quietly, scooting his chair closer to the table.

nodding, you stood up from your chair and rounded the table, before sitting at the edge of the table. “really.” you confirmed, your hands moving to undo the buttons of your shirt.

your bra was black and lacy, holding your breasts perfectly. sal’s mouth felt dry as he watched you with widened eyes.

his gaze focused on your tits, how good they looked with your bra. you didn’t take off your shirt completely, but the buttons were completely undone.

sal’s cock was pressing tightly against his pants his hands trembled under the handcuffs.

you pulled your pencil skirt up and let him see the matching black panties. he let out a breath, “did you match on purpose?” he asked softly, staring at you intensely.

you smiled, “maybe.” you said, spreading your legs for him — inviting him in.

sal felt a shiver go down his spine, “fuck.” he whispered, “c’mon, stand up.” you hummed, “you have to be quick if you want do do this.” you reminded.

sal was at a loss for words, he stood up and stared down at you, your hands reached out and you tugged at the waistband of his pants, you didn’t pull them off, you simply lowered them to his mid thighs for easy access.

sal moved his cuffed hands down and he pulled his cock out from his underwear before staring back at you.

you slipped your lacy panties down and let them dangle from one of your legs.

sal watched as your pretty cunt was exposed, he was grateful his prosthetic was on, because he would he embarrassed if you saw the way he was flustered.

your cunt was slick, wet. you were already so wet for him.

he bit his bottom lip and his hands moved to grip your thighs, he yanked your thighs towards him so you were closer to him.

sal was standing between your legs, you looked down and watched as sal’s calloused hand gripped his shaft, his hands jerking himself for a bit before he pressed the girthy top against your entrance.

your body shook, wishing you had lube with you. sal moved his prosthetic hastily and exposed his lips before he spat down on his hand and spread his saliva and pre-cum down his shaft, coating it with faux lube.

after coating it with a hefty amount of saliva, he slipped his cock inside your glistening pussy.

a small gasp left your lips as his cock pushed your spongy walls apart, his cock had more girth than length, but it felt so good.

your head leaned back as a choked breath left your lips.

as he slipped inside a guttural groan left his lips, your slick walls stretching to accommodate his girth. hugging him snuggly.

your lips were parted as a soft sigh left your lips, you felt so full — no dildo could compare to the girth of him.

your hands gripped the table, trying to stabilize yourself.

sal’s grip on your thighs was tight, bruising almost.

after he bottomed out, he leaned his head back with a breath as he savored the heat you brought him. he swears this is the best pussy he’s ever had.

his hips pressed against yours, moving his hands up to your hips, he gripped them tight before pulling his hips back and pushing back inside.

his movement was hard, putting his weight behind the thrust.

your eyes shut as a small whine left your lips, leaning down, sal rested his body on top of yours and his hips drawled back again.

his thrusts weren’t fast, but they were hard, letting you savor the way the his cock rubbed against your walls, your legs were next to hips, dangling in the air given the fact you were at the edge of the table.

sal’s arms slipped under your back, almost as if he was hugging you, his face pressed against the crook of your neck, hiding his masked face.

you had the delight of hearing the muffled heavy breathing and the small grunts leaving his lips.

your arms moved and you gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his uniform.

your moans were soft, choked, trying to stay quiet.

though your office was private, the halls weren’t. if you weren’t quiet you risked getting caught which would put you and sal in a bad situation.

sal grunted, his hands slipping down to your lower stomach.

one of his cuffed hands pressed against where your womb would be, while the other slipped between your folds.

the pressure of one of his hands pressing against your stomach combined with the feeling of your clit being pressed on made you let out a broke moan.

“shhhh,” sal reminded you, his face still nuzzled on your neck.

you bit your bottom lip and nodded your head, desperate trying to keep your composure.

sal’s finger pressed on your perked clit, slowly rubbing it gently, a heat began to spread on your lower stomach, your hips unknowingly grinding up to meet his hand.

his experience surprised you — that and the fact he wasn’t fucking you in an uncomfortably rough manner like would expect from an inmate.

your eyes shut and your eyebrows furrowed.

“s—sal—“ you gasped out, your nails still griping his uniform.

he hummed, letting you know he was listening. “feel good?” he muttered, pressing his hips against yours firmly.

you nodded your head, “yes—“ you agreed desperately.

your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him close to you. sal’s fingers rubbed slow circles on your clit, he was driving you insane.

the noises of skin slapping and the wet squelches of your cunt sucking his cock back in were present under the moans and whines that left your lips.

sal’s head was fuzzy again, he hadn’t been able to fuck someone in what felt like forever now, so this felt like a godsend.

the way your walls hugged his cock was too good, spongey and warm.

as he angled his hips, his thrusts increased a bit of speed, with the angle he was able to press against a gummy part inside you.

he felt as your back arched and your grip tightened — but before you could cry out in pleasure his he pulled back and moved his hands to cover your mouth forcefully.

he was hyper aware on the fact they were walking on thin ice, and he couldn’t risk getting caught and putting your job in jeopardy.

you stared up a sal with lidded eyes, your eyebrows furrowing upwards and your eyes blinking slowly as they

sal’s cock was still buried deep inside you, he stared down at you, his blue eyes seeming to shine under the light. he let out a breath and then pulled back again and shoved his cock inside you again. you let out a muffled whine and slipped your hand down to your clit, you toyed with your nub hastily as your legs shook in anticipation.

sal’s body was hot, his skin was coated with a thin layer of sweat, his cock was tense and heavy.

he wanted to cum so bad, but he wanted to wait for you.

luckily, it didn’t take long as your fingers toyed with your clit, your hips rolling up to meet his thrusts, after feeling your walls flutter around his shaft, he knew you were close.

his hands stayed covering your mouth when you came.

your back arched and your legs trembled, your hips rolled up, riding out your orgasm.

sal was grateful you came quickly, because he couldn’t keep edging himself any longer.

in a hazy moment he leaned back down, moving his hands from your mouth so he could land his final few thrusts properly.

he put his weight behind his thrusts, his body pressing against yours as his hips slammed against yours.

when he came, a muffled groan left his lips.

your eyes were practically rolled back, a shaky sigh leaving your lips when you felt sal pump his cum inside you. he coated your walls with his thick, milky cum before letting his body rest on top of you.

his face moved down to nuzzle your chest, you were the closest thing he’s had to comfort in so long, he just wanted to cherish it — just a bit more.

you let him rest on your chest, your arms moving to wrap around him, you held him firmly. hugging him.

sal nuzzled against you and sighed, he let his eyes slip shut for a moment before your fingers tangled themselves in his blue locks.

“i don’t think you’re a murderer, sal.” you whispered.

sal’s eyes opened, “you’re the only one.” he replied, pulling away from your touch, he slipped his softening cock out of your cunt and hastily stuffed it back in his pants.

you sat up on the table and started to re-button your shirt, “all i’m saying is the truth, doctor.” he added, looking at you through his prosthetic.

you slipped off the table and readjusted your panties before fixing your skirt.

“i know.” you nodded, fixing your hair too.

he looked at you, “go to the apartments..the treehouse. you’ll see.” he said before plopping back down on his chair.

adjusting your glasses you let out a hum.

“i’ll see you next week, mr. fisher.”

tags !! @chaobun @dollface6666 @airenaa @instanttacocoloreggs @rottindecay @sebastitties @sinisteryanderescribe @mrzombielover

#sally face x y/n #sally face x you #sal fisher x you #yandere sally face #sal fisher x reader #sally face smut #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sally face

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Note

Yo! Good morning/evening, hope you are fine^^💝. I wanted to ask you a question but I was afraid that it may bother you or something (you know..that feeling when you are scared that you might disturb someone or being an unwelcome person) but yeah I will ask you since i was serious about your answer for some time now so I hope I'm not annoying you or something *feel free to answer only if you wish^^. You seem to know the characters pretty well, you are quite capable and great at reading and understanding them, one of the things I'm serious about is what do you think would make someone qualified enough to be with malleus? Do they have to be of the same species?certain Reputation, stature or traits?(sorry can't help it since I can't rest until I know everything about what interests me and figure it all out😅). Thanks for giving me some of your precious time I really like your blog, you're amazing💜

No worries, you’re not bothering me at all ^^ I love to talk about my hyperfixations www

Now, I know a lot of fans (particularly on the EN side) like to ship Malleus with their OC and especially with Yuu so I want to first make it clear that my response is NOT meant to invalidate those Malleus shippers. Whatever I say here is based on my own interpretation of canon lore (and let’s be real here, TWST won’t ever confirm if anyone is romantically interested in Yuu because it might not work with how some players view their own relationship with that character). In fanon, anyone can be with anyone, but in canon there are very specific in-universe rules and expectations laid out for Malleus so these are what I will be referring to.

I also want to emphasize that the final traits I discuss in this post do NOT reflect Malleus’s personal tastes or views. He has little say in what kind of an individual his spouse would be, so his own preferences are not speculated about or taken into account here. The traits I will be bringing up are based on what I believe the lore implies are the desirable traits for those marrying into the Draconia royal family.

We got it? Good 👍 Read more below the cut!!

Firstly, I’m completely disregarding the ideas of “Malleus can love whoever he wants to love”, “Malleus can scare people into accepting who he loves”, and/or “Malleus can change the law so he can marry who he loves” (a la Sultan from Aladdin or through some other Disney magic or logic). Here’s why:

In general, those solutions for “high stakes issues” are too simple, and that has never been how Twisted Wonderland tackles complicated problems. Just look at every single OB boy’s backstory. They’re so complex that they aren’t totally resolved by the end of their books; these problems persist and are long term things each of them are working on addressing. This is also true of the politics TWST introduces to us; Leona for example explains how there is social pushback and resistance to the idea of infrastructure reform because the culture of the Sunset Savanna stresses harmony with nature. This has made it difficult for them to adopt new technologies because real politicians in their world have to seriously weigh their cultural values with their health and societal progress. The only time there are really easy solutions are in events or vignettes where the emotional stakes are not super high, but who Malleus marries is, in fact, super important since this will entirely change the life of a main character and his country.

With that first bullet point in mind… No, Malleus cannot love whoever he wants to love. Certainly, he may feel affection for another but he can never truly be with them. He is royalty and the only heir to the throne of Briar Valley. It follows that he is expected to marry for political reasons/to better his nation. This is a non-negotiable obligation for him.

Rather than saying, “Malleus cannot scare people into accepting who he loves”, I think it’s more accurate to say Malleus knows he probably shouldn’t. I mean, yes, he may be upset about his S/O not being accepted by his people but I feel that is discrediting a lot of the loyalty he has for his own country. As a kid he may have thrown tantrums when he was upset and potentially harmed staff, but as a 178 year old he has a much better understanding of decorum and maintaining it in spite of his own grudges. For example, even though he personally dislikes Leona he still commands Sebek to apologize to him because, at the end of the day, this could harm Briar Valley’s relationship with the Sunset Savanna. That’s not to say that Malleus can’t be petty (he definitely is)—but implying he would be petty toward basically his entire country just because they would disapprove of the one he loves?? (We know this would likely be true because Sebek’s parents faced similar backlash when they got together.) I feel like his own sense of awareness and responsibility for his country, crown, and people would override that. As an example, Malleus states that he has never been in a car before because the senate would be against it and often kept Malleus in the castle. Someone of his power could easily ignore them and sneak out and do whatever he wanted, yet the dialogue implies Malleus didn’t. He obeyed his political advisors even when he was younger and arguably much more immature. Malleus might not like certain decisions made about his life but it sounds like he ultimately complies with them.

Continuing from the previous point, let’s say for the sake of argument that Malleus does scare everyone into line. What about his public image and the mental health of his S/O? Maybe Malleus can frighten people to not talk out of turn to his face, but he cannot control what people whisper about him behind closed doors or to treat his S/O well or like they actually like them. Not only would they be alienated (away from their own home and forced to adapt to a new one) but they’d be treated oddly by others too. What kind of reputation is that for Malleus? To be a tyrant king who throws a hissy fit anytime someone talks about his partner in a way he doesn’t approve of? With a spouse who is not at their best mentally because of the constant ostracization? (This is similar to what Leona experienced in his childhood.) I don’t think Malleus would want to subject anyone to that kind of life, especially not one he loves. And again, this attitude would be the vast majority of his people. It’s not like it can be avoided or resolved in an easy manner, especially when the people of Briar Valley have proven to be against change.

Lastly, Malleus would not change the law so he can be with whoever he wants to. To begin with, I doubt this is a unilateral position the senate would approve of. But okay, let’s accept that Malleus is royalty so his power overrides the advisors’ power. So he effectively just changed a law for a very selfish and personal reason rather than changing something to actually benefit his people. That doesn’t feel in-character for him, not when Malleus seems to understand that it is the duty of those in higher status to help those below them rather than themselves (see: Riddle’s Suitor Suit vignettes. Malleus has acted selfish before, yes (who remembers Endless Halloween Night? His Dorm Uniform vignettes? I do.)—but never at the cost of changing the status quo of his country. (Book 7 is not included here because he’s in a very distressed emotional state then; this “new law” scenario posits that Malleus is in a normal state of mind.) This is a major change—change which Briar Valley, its people, and most importantly, Malleus, are not ready for. You think there wouldn’t be social pushback against this? From a society that has become complacent with its own way of life and is still isolated from the rest of the world? That Malleus, someone who struggles greatly with accepting life changes himself, could enact such a big change so easily? (On a more technical level, you don’t just pass a law and it instantly becomes tangible or real, there is a process of approval and then implementation.)

Additionally, it’s made clear in Ghost Marriage that “[Malleus] cannot enter into an engagement lightly”, which is why Sebek goes in his place. Eliza, the Ghost Bride, is royalty (er, albeit dead) but it seems that royal status is not enough to qualify as his partner. Maybe this is because she’s dead and doesn’t have anything of value for Briar Valley (no land, no people, no political power), but it could also mean that the partner has to be given the thumbs up by other parties.

All that being said, here are some of the conditions I think would have to be met for Malleus’s future spouse:

Has to be someone of equal or at least high status. This means they also have to be a royal or at least of nobility. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who is referred to as a duke.

Because of how self-contained Briar Valley is + nocturnal fae having beef with diurnal fae, I imagine his partner would have to also be a nocturnal fae. This would also solve the MASSIVE lifespan difference between fae and non-fae because at least fae would be far closer to each other even if their lifespans fluctuate but subspecies.

Someone suited to rule by his side. Being married into any royal family is no joke—it comes with the expectation that you will contribute somehow, and the partner should be fully equipped to enter the world of politics with him.

Piggybacking off the last point, I think mental fortitude is also a prerequisite. This is because being a politician (navigating the social climate both within your country and outside of it, keeping your people and colleagues happy, maintaining public approval, managing laws, dealing with potential attempts on your life, etc.) can be very stressful and can hurt those who are faint of heart or not prepared for the responsibility. Leaders have to make tough calls at the drop of a hat, and they have to be ready for it.

Has a lot to offer in terms of benefits to Briar Valley as a country. This could be in terms of resources, connections, and/or political savvy. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who acted as a diplomat for Briar Valley.

Vetting and formal approval from the senate. lmao good luck with that

Has to be able and willing to have a child. They at least need an heir to the throne to succeed Malleus. (However, knowing how exclusionary and conservative as heck the senators are, I doubt they would accept anything but a biological child 💀)

Preferably someone with powerful magic or is skilled at magic already so as to lessen the chance of “tainting” the bloodline with a weak mage or a non-mage.

I believe that Briar Valley would prefer someone with old fashioned values like them, not someone pushing for massive reform. They have a culture that is resistant to change and a history of fighting for resources with outsiders, so if Malleus’s new spouse tries to introduce a bunch of technology or open its borders to other countries (even if they have good intentions), the people + the senate may oppose them. His father is implied to be open-minded, but he at least understood that such change isn’t reasonable without time and effort dedicated to the endeavor.

All that being said 💦 I think that this topic is actually less about what Malleus as an individual wants and what his country, his people, and, yes, even his asshole senators, want. This is basically an arranged marriage situation so that their country can maintain power and relevance. It’s about the collective and what Malleus must do for their perceived security and prosperity.

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darlingshane · 5 months

Text

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

#michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #original character #michael berzatto x reader #angst #fluff #darlingwrites #sorry i used the reader tag #it's the only way to get my fic seen #salt of the earth

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roosterforme · 8 months

Text

The Curveball Part 11 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: While Bob is away, Molly struggles with the silence around her. And Bob can't seem to sleep without her soft, sweet body curled up next to his. But when he mistakes someone else's interest in him for kindness, Bob could risk losing everything he loves.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swears, pregnancy, smut, 18+

Length: 6500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Molly was ridiculous. Truly pitiful. She knew it. She could admit it. She was an adult who had lived on her own for many years, but she had become so attached to Bob, she could barely handle the silence of being alone now.

The silence when Bob was here? Well that silence was delightful. It meant he was reading a book or contemplating something. It meant she had asked him a question and he was still gathering his thoughts. But the silence without Bob was actually unbearable.

She found herself making excuses to visit her sister. Or even just call her. One night she called Bradley and pretended she was very interested in the Phillies score so she had someone to talk to about something. She was sure Bradley knew the real reason for her phone call, but bless his heart for talking to her for thirty minutes anyway.

The calls from Bob were so sporadic and sudden, she kept her phone on her at work. One time she had to sneak away to the supply closet to talk to him, but it had been worth it as she stood there surrounded by antiseptic wipes and sterile syringes.

"Mo," he sighed. "I can't stand this, Honey. I can't get any sleep without you next to me."

That call had been brief, but she made sure he knew she missed him and his particular brand of silence. And his cock.

Because that was the other thing. The pregnancy hormones were outrageous. The only two things she seemed to want to do were cry and orgasm. She found herself crying all the time. Like even in the middle of Costco when she saw a brand of cheese called Floyd Farms. But it was really hard to cum without Bob. She and her toys weren't as patient and sexy as he was.

On the Monday of her anatomy ultrasound appointment, Molly cried in the car on her way to the medical complex. And she was still crying when her sister arrived to join her for the appointment. "I'm sorry," Molly said, wiping her eyes. "I shouldn't have asked you to leave work early. I could have done this by myself."

But her sister wrapped her up in a tight hug. "Do you think I'm not excited to find out if I'm getting a niece or a nephew? Please, I'd choose this over work any day of the week!"

Molly nodded as her sister led her inside. She was used to this kind of medical setting, but it was always weird being the patient and not the nurse. So she held her arm out to have blood drawn even though she could have done a better job herself, and she sat quietly while the nurse explained things she already knew. And her sister was with her the whole time, holding her hand.

It's not like she wasn't grateful, because she was. But she whispered, "I miss Bob," when the ultrasound technician was washing her hands. Molly rubbed her hands along her round belly and looked at her sister. "I love you so much, but I wish Bob was here."

"I know," she replied with a small smile. "I wish I could swap places with him for the day. How hard could it be to navigate a Super Hornet and interpret radar imagining while trying not to barf?"

Molly laughed, already feeling better as they got started. And when it was time to find out the sex of the baby, Molly's sister made the tech pause for a minute until she was sure she was getting a video on her phone.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said, giving a thumbs up, and then Molly smiled for the phone camera.

"Miss you, Bob. Or should I say, Daddy. Ready to find out if you're going to have a son or a daughter?"

Then she nodded to the tech who brought the images up on the monitor, and as soon as she said, "It's a boy," Molly felt like everything made perfect sense. She just lounged there on the table while her sister freaked out and nearly dropped her phone. But all Molly could picture was a tiny version of Bob with glasses, immaculate manners, and tidy hair. Yes, it made sense.

"Calm down, or I'll name him Everett!" she told her sister as a big smile broke out on her face. It felt nice for her to be the calm one right now as her sister cried into the camera, gushing about having a nephew.

But now it was almost midnight, and Molly was waiting up, expecting a call from Bob. She had promised him she'd email him as soon as she found out what they were having, but she held off, knowing this call was supposed to be happening. Just as she was dozing off on the couch with an opened bag of gummy bears on her chest, her phone started ringing.

It was a FaceTime call. "Bob?!" she practically screamed when she answered it. And then his handsome face was there, bathed in sunlight.

"Honey! Did you have your appointment today?" His eyes were eager, examining Molly's face as she smiled at him.

"Yes, I did, Cowboy Bob."

His eyes went slightly wider, and Molly could read the anticipation there. "Well?" he asked, pressing his lips together.

She didn't want to make him wait any longer. "We're having a boy."

His eyes welled with tears as he bumped his glasses up onto his forehead and wiped at his eyes. "A boy?" he asked softly. "Molly, really? A boy?"

"Were you hoping for a girl?" she asked with a grin. There was no way Bob would survive having a daughter like Molly, if that's what would have ended up happening.

"Not really," he replied, openly crying. "It didn't really matter. But now that I know it's a boy, I just-" He shook his head for a few seconds. "I just can't wait, Mo."

She popped a gummy bear into her mouth as her baby boy kicked her in the spleen. "How's your deployment, Daddy? I must say, it's a real treat getting to see your sexy face right now."

Bob smiled and adjusted his glasses, looking around at wherever he was standing. "It's boring. And I can't sleep at all. I've been up at night just thinking about you and our son. I miss sleeping with you. Wrapping my arms around you. I miss our bedroom. I know it's silly."

"It's not!" she insisted, sitting up a little straighter. "I miss the way you smell and your voice and the taste of your cum."

"Mo," he groaned in a warning tone.

"What?" she whined. "I do! And I miss the way you'd put your hands on my bump."

He looked at her reverently. "I love you. Both of you. But I need to go get ready to get up in the air, okay?"

Well now she felt like she was going to cry for sure. "You'll call me again soon?"

"The first moment I'm allowed to, I'll call you again, Mo."

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

Bob was a week into his deployment when he gave up and left his bunk in the middle of the night. His roommate didn't snore, so sleeping shouldn't have been an issue, but without Molly's warmth next to him, it just wasn't happening. The lounge had decent coffee, and it was quiet. There was a shelf lined with books. He'd go there and see if it made him sleepy.

When he walked in wearing his gray sweatpants and an old gym shirt, he felt eyes on him right away. He turned to his left to see a woman around his age look up from her book to smile at him. "Hi," she whispered, and he knew she must have been talking to him. There was nobody else around.

"Hi." Bob returned her smile and went to investigate the bookshelf. Didn't they know he wasn't going to want to read about US naval history right now? He ran his fingers along all the spines until he found a well worn mystery novel. That might hit the spot.

So he settled down on the chair across from the woman, and when he opened the book, she said, "I read that one last week."

"Oh," he replied, glancing at the cover again before meeting her eyes. "Any good?"

She just shrugged and said, "Passable. But almost everything else in here is the history of the navy part seven thousand, or something equivalent."

Bob laughed and leaned across the table. "I'm Bob. Bob Floyd," he said, extending his hand.

"Annamarie Clarke. It's nice to meet you, Bob."

He nodded and had every intention of just opening the book on his lap, but when Annamarie asked him what he was doing awake at two in the morning ship time, he ended up setting the book aside. She was nice and soft spoken and kind of mousy. She was the type of woman he would have asked out before he met Molly. But right now she was just someone who was willing to talk to him, and maybe that was exactly what he needed.

"This is my first deployment in about a year," he told her after a few minutes of talking. "And I wasn't expecting it. Which is silly, I know. But... I have a lot going on at home."

"Sounds heavy," she replied with a soft smile. "Wanna talk about it?"

Bob leaned back in his chair and pictured Molly and her bump and her silver barbells and her smile. He wanted to tell Annamarie everything, because he knew it would feel good to talk about Molly and the baby. But it also felt too sacred in a way, so he just simply said, "Maybe another time." And then he cleared his throat and asked her why she was awake so late.

Her voice was oddly soothing to him as she told him about her home in Virginia. They compared the Pacific Fleet to the Atlantic Fleet. She made Bob laugh so many times, he lost count. He finally felt himself yawning, and he stood the same time she did.

In another time, he would have thought she was sweet. He would have been a stuttering, blushing mess in her presence. She would have either laughed at him or thought he was adorable. He might have asked her to hang out again. But he had Molly now, and there was no going back from that. He didn't blush and stutter like he used to, especially not around another woman. The only one who could bring that out in him was his girlfriend when she was whispering in his ear about something she wanted to do to him. She was the only sweet thing he wanted in his life.

So he told Annamarie goodnight as they paused in the doorway together, and he intended for that to be it.

But she squeezed his hand gently and said, "Maybe I'll see you again, Bob." And then he turned one way down the hallway, and she turned the other.

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

Molly was trying to straighten up the condo on her day off, but the smell of the bleach cleaner in the bathroom was making her gag. She hadn't been eating well, and this morning she hadn't eaten at all. Making food after her shift at the hospital was way too much work. If she didn't have time to stop at her sister and Bradley's place, then she just munched on whatever snacks she could find.

When her phone vibrated in the pocket of her sweatpants, she was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom trying to force herself to go back in there. "Shit," she gasped when she saw that Bob's mom was calling her.

She cleared her throat and answered with a simple, "Hi!" Then she felt like an idiot until she heard the friendly voice on the other end of the call.

"Molly! Are you home, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" she answered, still too chipper for her liking. She cleared her throat again. "Just trying to clean the bathroom and make lunch."

"Well don't. Rachel and I are about to head to the city to see you. I'm sure you must be exhausted after work every day, and I made dozens of meals that can go in the freezer so you don't have to make lunch, okay?"

"Okay," Molly said before pressing her lips together to keep from crying. She was being mommed. She missed being mommed. She loved it when her sister mommed her, but this was just as good.

"And don't open any cleaning supplies. I'll do that when I get there."

Now a tear really did leak down her cheek. "Too late. It's making me nauseous."

"We're in the car now. Crack open a window in a different room, and we'll see you soon."

Three hours later, Molly was eating a homemade meal while Rachel talked a mile a minute. The condo was spotlessly clean, and Bob's mom was taking the trash out to the dumpster.

"I want to say thank you again, but I'm afraid I'll start crying," Molly whispered when Rachel took her empty plate to the dishwasher.

"Nah, you already thanked us a dozen times. My mom wants to help. I mean, so do I. It's hard when Bob is deployed, but it must be miserable for you. Being pregnant on top of everything."

Molly nodded and twisted her fingers together, trying to keep her voice calm. "I miss him so much, it physically hurts. Like sometimes it's hard to breathe. And it's too quiet here without him."

Rachel smiled sympathetically. "Bob doesn't make much noise though."

Molly licked her lips and closed her eyes. "He's quiet. So when he decides to talk about something, it's always worth listening to. And he's been the sweetest man in the world, especially since I told him I was pregnant."

Rachel kind of shrugged. "Listen, I know this isn't the 1800s, but are you and Bob going to get married?"

Molly's eyes went wide. "I-" She slammed her mouth shut, unsure about what she wanted to say here.

But Rachel continued on, undeterred. "It's just that, Bob seems like the type who'd want that. And I'm not trying to call him a prude or anything, but he's pretty conservative when it comes to his personal life. I just thought he would have taken you to the store to get a ring the same day." She seemed to rethink what she had just said. "I'm sorry, I'm overstepping. I'm just surprised you're not married to my baby brother right now."

Molly kept thinking about it. There were times when Bob promised her forever where she really thought about marrying him. She already knew he'd be so good at being a husband, but marriage seemed like something else Molly would probably just fail at over time. But that wildflower meadow filled her mind again. Bob holding their son surrounded by daisies, poppies and violets. Bob sneezing but insisting he was fine. Okay, yes. She wanted it.

But then Bob's mom walked back in, and Molly started to wonder why Bob hadn't asked her to pick out a ring by now. Maybe his family was wrong, and he wasn't completely sold on her. Sure, she'd told him she didn't want to get married yet, but now she was surprised he hadn't insisted that's what he wanted to do. And he hadn't brought it up again.

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

"So where do you live, Bob? I know you're stationed out of Top Gun. Do you live in Coronado?" Annamarie asked, playing with the loose ends of her hair. It was the second night Bob had ventured to the lounge, and she was there again. He tried to fall asleep for the past few nights without leaving his bed, and he'd been mostly successful, but he'd finished his book and came to pick a new one. He was surprised to see her when he walked in, and he wondered if she had been here every night.

"How well do you know San Diego?" he asked, thinking about his condo. Thinking about all of Molly's stuff everywhere in their condo. "I live in Hillcrest."

"I know it well enough," she replied with a soft smile, leaning a little closer to him. "And Top Gun is just impressive. You must have some amazing credentials under your belt."

He shrugged. "I'm just a weapons systems officer," he muttered. "I'm actually a little out of my wheelhouse, because the pilot I'm used to flying with isn't here. It's been a bit of an adjustment. And I'm missing my place back in Hillcrest. A lot. I'm still having such a hard time sleeping here."

She trailed her fingers down along her neck and asked, "What's your place like?"

"Oh, I have a condo. I bought it two years ago. It felt huge at first, but my girlfriend moved in a few months ago. Now I might have to sell it."

Her expression fell and her shoulders sagged. "You have a girlfriend?" she asked, her tone flat as she pouted. But her pout didn't light him up inside the way Molly's did. It didn't really phase him at all.

"Yeah. Molly. She's something else," he said with a laugh. "We're going to have a son. He's due in March."

"Oh," she said, nodding slightly. "That's great, congratulations."

"I think the reason I can't sleep is because I miss her so much," Bob said quietly, looking at his hands. "She's a spitfire. Honestly, she's a bit of a handful. But I'm just so used to her now. Even though she's wild." Bob closed his mouth. He'd lost himself there thinking about her.

Annamarie was quiet for a few seconds before she asked, "You trust her?"

"Yes," Bob said right away as he met her eyes. He did. He trusted Molly. Even though she said she didn't want to get married to him. Even though sometimes she shied away from the topic of forever.

"Even though she's wild?" she asked, echoing his words with an edge of sarcasm.

He thought about how Molly's face lit up when she saw him. And the way she'd call his name through a crowd of people, seemingly delighted to be with him. Bob was sure she was only wild for him now.

Annamarie must have mistaken his silence for hesitation. "Do you think you'll ask her to marry you?" she asked, leaning closer across the small table.

Bob would have asked already, but Molly had shut that idea down cold. "I don't know that she'd say yes."

She touched his hand again. "Then maybe she's not the one for you."

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

Molly thought she was doing alright. She was having a pretty good day. Nothing to be concerned about over here. Nope. She wasn't missing Bob to the point of devastation. Not at all. Just a completely normal day where she went to work and came home only to get changed and hear a knock on the door while she was on the verge of tears.

"Coming!" she called out, stretching her back where she was starting to feel really sore. If she could just stop thinking about Bob all the time, then maybe the ache would go away.

As she reached for the knob, she hoped it was Phoenix. She'd been stopping over randomly, but she usually texted first. But when she saw a kid who couldn't have been older than eighteen standing there holding a bouquet of gas station flowers, she erupted into tears.

"Uh, are you Molly?" he asked, holding the flowers out and looking a little concerned.

"Yes," she said, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"Then these are for you. From some guy named Bob."

She held them in her hands like they were the most delicate and beautiful things in the world. "How did he do this?" she marvelled, taking in the sight of each bloom through her tears.

The kid shrugged. "He gave me a hundred bucks a few weeks ago to make sure I brought them here today." And then he walked away, leaving Molly to kick the door closed before reading the card that was tucked between two stems.

Molly,

It's been exactly six months since the first time I told you I love you. And I have loved you every day since then. I can't be there in person, but I wanted to make sure you knew I was thinking about you. I'll get you more gas station flowers as soon as I get home. I love you so much.

Bob

She went to the bedroom and threw some random things in a tote bag. Then she made sure everything was turned off before she locked the door behind her. Molly's hands were shaking as she drove through familiar neighborhoods until she pulled up in front of her sister's house. It was late now, and she was sure Ev would be in bed. So she texted and called her sister's phone. When she got no response, and she knew she couldn't stand the isolating silence for one more minute, she got out of the car and let herself in the front door.

Her hands were shaking, and she realized she had been holding the flowers continuously since that kid gave them to her. She looked around the dimly lit living room, and a second later, everything was illuminated. Bradley was standing at the top of the steps in his boxer shorts, holding a baseball bat like he was a power hitter.

"I'm sorry. It's just me," she said pitifully. He looked even more relieved and even more annoyed as he lowered the bat. Molly supposed it was a nice sentiment about her brother-in-law that he was ready to take someone's head off before he'd let anything happen to his family.

He grunted and turned back to the bedroom, and Molly could hear him say, "Your sister's here." A minute later, Molly was enveloped in a mom hug.

"I can't," Molly whispered. "I can't stay there alone another night. I hate being away from Bob. You know what he did? He got the guy from the gas station to deliver the flowers to me today, because it's the six month anniversary of the first time he said he loved me."

"Oh, Molly," her sister whispered, kissing her forehead.

"He set this shit up before he left!" she wailed. "I don't even know what he's doing today, because I haven't talked to him in a week. A week! And now I interrupted you having sex, and I can tell Bradley's mad at me."

"He's not mad at you, Molly. He just thought you were a burglar or something."

"I'm sorry," she moaned, holding the flowers tight as her sister rested a hand on her belly.

"Stop apologizing. You can stay with us until Bob gets back."

Molly tried to shake her head, but she was led upstairs. She wasn't exactly sure what her sister and Bradley said to each other, but a moment later, Bradley kissed her on the forehead before he went down the hallway alone.

"Come on," her sister coaxed, and Molly climbed into bed with her. "You've been alone for too long. It's not good for you."

Molly dozed off to the sound of her sister's voice and soft breathing, clutching one gas station flower as she fell into the best sleep she'd had since Bob left.

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

Bob was anxious to FaceTime with Molly. It had been two weeks since he heard her voice. Now it was a few days after Halloween, and he managed to log into his email for long enough that he saw a photo of her with her sister, Bradley, and Everett, standing in front of an enormous inflatable pumpkin. They looked like they were dressed as a ragtag baseball team. He scrolled down in his email to find more photos of Molly.

It appeared that she was no longer staying at the condo, which had him really concerned. But then he saw a photo of how big her baby bump had gotten. And then there was a photo of her and Everett wearing 3-D glasses and making faces. And then there was a photo of Molly completely naked and pleasuring herself.

Bob nearly dropped his phone on the metal grating of the midship deck. She was going to be the death of him. If he didn't die from lack of sleep, he would die falling overboard after his phone. Either way, it would be mostly her fault, because he couldn't stop thinking about her. His body was aching for her hands to touch him. When the wind blew, it felt like her fingers in his hair, and for a second his heart leapt.

He was lovesick. That had to be it. He never thought this was a real ailment before, but even his heart seemed to be beating to the rhythm of her name. He could picture her when he closed his eyes. He simply missed her to the point of sickness.

And the baby. Bob missed cradling her belly in his hands until he felt a kick. He missed the way Molly would walk around talking to the unborn child about her day at work, as if it was an adult. He missed the ultrasound photos that he's put in chronological order on the refrigerator. He thought up baby names all day long. He had two countdowns going: one to the day he could see Molly again, and one to the due date in March.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his back. "There you are." He turned to see Annamarie looking him up and down. "You look nice in your flight suit."

Bob swallowed hard. He nearly forgot he was about to fly a mission. He wondered briefly if Annamarie had come out here to find him. "Thanks," he murmured, suddenly sick to his stomach over the thought of how many times Annamarie had touched him. It was innocuous. She knew about Molly and the baby. And Bob was just Bob. Nothing special. She'd provided him some comfort late at night when he was too lonely to go to sleep. That was all.

But, sometimes she looked at him like she wanted to keep touching him. And he should have said something by now, but it would have been embarrassing. He was misreading the cues. He was just overly sensitive without Molly here to accept all of his love and feelings.

He loaded into the Super Hornet and got to work. This is why he was here. This is what he was good at. This mission should exhaust his brain enough for him to fall asleep.

But when he landed back on deck as the sun was setting, he knew he didn't stand a chance. His mind drifted, wondering where his girlfriend was. Wondering if the baby was okay. He was only fooling himself when he thought he'd be able to sleep. So he finished reading another book from the lounge and decided to return it. There were only a handful of nights left now. He'd make this his last visit to the lounge.

When he walked in, it was just Annamarie as usual. He was going to put the book away and tell her goodnight. He was going to tell her he didn't want her to touch him, and he was going to say goodnight. But then she met him halfway, and her hands were warm on his chest through his undershirt. And her lips met his, somehow soothing him and making everything worse at the same time.

Bob jumped back instantly. "No," he gasped. "No. I was supposed to tell you not to touch me. Why did you do that?"

She took a step closer to him as he wiped at his lips with his fingertips. "I think there's definitely something here," she whispered, gesturing between their bodies. "Right?"

"No," he gasped again, ready to cry now. He looked down at the gray sweatpants Molly got for him and his undershirt which was a little stretched out from her wearing it over the bump last month. "You're going to ruin everything."

Now Annamarie rolled her eyes. "Why did you keep coming here to see me if you didn't want to take this back to one of our bunks?"

Bob was going to throw up. This sort of thing had never happened to him, and he wasn't even remotely prepared for it. "That's the farthest thing from my mind, Annamarie. You must know by now that I'm absolutely dying to get back home to my Molly and the baby. I'm lonely for them."

"It was worth a try," she whispered bitterly. "You're sweet. You're too good for her."

As she walked out of the lounge, Bob cradled his face in his hands. What was he going to do? If Molly wouldn't hear him out and accept his apology, what the hell was he supposed to do?

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

Molly got into, well, a lot of bad habits while she stayed with her sister and Bradley. She ate all the Halloween candy. She accidentally got Everett asking for a pet. She didn't clean up after she did arts and crafts with her nephew. But perhaps the worst habit was the fact that she would sneak across the hallway and slide into Ev's bed for about a half hour each night after Bradley and her sister went to their room.

"Hi, Aunt Molly," Ev whispered, lifting up the covers so she could climb in next to him. "Uncle Bob comes back tomorrow. Are you excited?"

She kissed his cheek and squeezed him as tight as she could with her belly in the way. "Ev, I'm so excited! I can't wait! I can't wait!" She was trying to be quiet, but she was overjoyed. The only contact she had with him in the last ten days was an eight paragraph email gushing about how much he loved her and wanted to be with her forever. She received it last night and read it so many times, it felt like she was floating on a cloud.

"I missed Uncle Bob, too," Everett said. "I'm happy he'll be back in time to come to my adoption day."

God, this kid was so excited to be officially related to Bradley, it was almost comical. "At least someone thinks he's cool," she muttered. But she didn't mean it. Bradley had welcomed her here as much as her sister had. In his own way. Even his teasing had nothing behind it anymore. She had worn him down. He not only loved her now, he also liked her.

"Ev? Do you think I'll be a good mom?" she asked softly, holding her breath for his answer. Kids were so honest, there was a chance this might hurt.

"You already are," he said through a yawn.

She rubbed her belly and asked, "What do you mean?"

Ev snuggled in a little more against her. "You always take care of me and love me. You like, do the same stuff my mom does, but actually in a funner way. And you were there before my dad got here. You already do all the mom stuff."

Molly cried herself to sleep in a twin bed with her nephew, but her heart was full. And the next morning, she was up and ready to go before anyone else.

"What the hell is happening?" Bradley asked when he walked into the kitchen to see Molly making breakfast. "Is this the Twilight Zone?"

She rolled her eyes. "If it was the Twilight Zone, I wouldn't tell you it was. And besides, everything would be in black and white."

"You're so annoying," he said, patting her on the head as he went to pour some coffee. "You're finally leaving today, right? Back to being Bob's problem instead of mine?"

"Har, har, har," she said, flipping some pancakes that looked slightly inedible. "You should be thanking me right now. How many times did I take Everett out so you could fuck my sister?" she asked, glaring at him. "Hmm?"

"Yeah," he conceded with a grin. "That was pretty nice of you."

"I'll send you my Amazon wish list. My birthday is in a few weeks."

He shook his head and walked away, but not even the turd-in-law could dampen her mood. Her body was thrumming, just knowing she'd have Bob's cock in her before the end of the day. And the baby was kicking like he knew he'd get to hear his dad again soon.

But being back on the dock again later that morning made her more anxious than she anticipated. She could remember the sick feeling inside when she said goodbye to Bob. She needed to touch him right now. He would take all of the icky feelings away. And then he'd make her feel so good.

She was wearing a little dress that showed off her bump. Her makeup looked perfect. She'd switched the silver barbells for the ones with the glasses charms. The plan was to take Bob home, suck his dick as many times as he wanted, fuck him in their bed, and then take him to her sister's for dinner. The perfect day. She was about to have the perfect day.

But then she saw him. And oh, he looked terrible. Suddenly that eight paragraph email was pressing down on her like a weight. Like a warning. Like an ending instead of a beginning.

"Bob?" she called out, shuffling forward to meet him. He didn't look happy. Why wasn't he happy? There was a woman glaring at Molly from the other side of the ramp like she wanted to physically hurt her. And Bob looked upset. "Bob?"

"Molly," he sighed, his face looking devastated. But she needed him, so she cautiously wrapped her arms around his neck. "Mo, Honey." His face was buried against her neck, and finally she felt whole again.

"We missed you so much," she whispered, kissing his jaw and raking her fingers through his hair. "Bobby, I love you."

He was crying.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pulling away from him and holding his face in her hands. His pretty greenish-blue eyes met hers, and she waited for him to speak. Because this was the silence she could deal with. She could probably deal with anything now that he was here.

"Molly, I love you more than anything," he said, letting his big hand rest softly on her bump. "I don't want anything or anyone besides the three of us." His voice was shaking as he cried.

"You're scaring me, Bob. What is going on?" she demanded, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"A woman kissed me a few days ago."

Molly gasped as her stomach lurched. "Who? Why?"

"Another officer," he said miserably, and Molly knew she was going to be sick. "I couldn't sleep at all, because I missed you so much. She was kind to me. Or that's what I thought. All I did was talk about you and the baby. I didn't think I was encouraging her."

Molly squeezed her eyes shut tight as tears leaked out. That's why the woman was glaring at her. "Are you leaving me?"

"Mo!" he gasped so loudly that her eyes snapped open. His hands were on her back, pulling her closer until there was no room between them. "Never! I told you I want forever. I want forever!"

"I don't understand," she said. He was acting like he didn't want to let her go, like he was afraid she was the one who was going to run away.

He kissed her forehead over and over before he said, "She was making me uncomfortable after a while. I was getting ready to tell her. And then she kissed me. And it meant nothing to me, Molly. Nothing. I just want you."

"Did you kiss her back?" she asked, needing to know.

"Of course not," he swore.

"And it was just one kiss?"

"It only lasted a second," he said. "Then I reminded her that I'm in love with you."

Molly sighed deeply. "She made you feel uncomfortable?"

"Not at first. But later on, yes. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. Women don't do this kind of thing to guys like me."

"Guys like you?" she asked softly. "You mean perfect men? Bob, you're exactly the kind of guy this sort of thing happens to, because you're the kind of guy every girl wants."

He was breathing deeply, pressing more kisses to her forehead. "Molly. Can you forgive me? Please tell me you can forgive me for not saying something to her sooner. Or I won't be able to live with myself."

She examined his face. He looked distraught and sick. The dark circles under his eyes let her know he was telling the truth about not getting enough sleep. He was holding onto her so tight, it almost hurt. But it was so obvious that he was telling her the truth. It was plain to see that this was eating him up inside.

"I can forgive you."

Molly ran her fingers along his cheeks, wiping away his tears and kissing his lips softly. He chased her for another kiss and another. Bob devoured her and made her feel whole again. "I can't lose you. Ever," he whispered against her lips. "You're the love of my life."

"Bob," she gasped before kissing him silly. She kind of hoped that the other woman was watching, but she kind of didn't care at all. She didn't belong here with them. She didn't belong where Molly was.

"You know, I think maybe the gray sweatpants were too powerful," Molly mused as she wrapped her arms around him. "You really have no idea how attractive you are, do you?"

Bob just shrugged. "It doesn't matter. There's only you."

She kissed him as she wrapped her hands around his biceps. He was husband material. She knew that. She'd known it all along. "That's very flattering, Coach Cute Glasses."

"It's the truth." His lips found hers again, and Molly let herself enjoy the feel of him. But then he said, "Molly, it might help if I was wearing a wedding band in the future."

"Oh," she gasped. It was like he could read her mind. But she wasn't fully prepared for another overwhelming conversation right now, so she laced her fingers with his and led him to her car.

"Will you let me spend the rest of the day showing you how much I missed you, Honey?"

"You better."

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

Baby boy Floyd! The next chapter may be the last one! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing

PART 12

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#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fic #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd smut #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the curveball #batting practice

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pvffinsdaisies · 1 month

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Ireland Headcanon Masterpost

Artwork drawn by @nordickies

Part three of creating master posts for my interpretation of certain characters & nations. This time we’re doing the lovely miss Ireland! Who has been occupying my mind a lot recently. Before we get into it, I want to say that I have not been developing Ireland for even half as long as I have been every other character I have. She’s been a floating concept in my mind for years, but I only actually started to develop her properly last month. For most of the time I’ve had her, she’s just been a pretty face and a name, and I’ve been having so much fun actually exploring her. If you enjoy reading her information, I’ve also made posts for Scotland and my OC of Northumbria, both of those posts are going to be much longer than this one is.

I want to emphasise that I am no history expert, and I do not even wish to be associated with historical hetalia. However, as I am from England, it means I am treading a very fine line with my portrayal. That being said, if anyone from Ireland sees this post and takes issue with anything I say here, I encourage you to reach out and correct me! I am still learning, and, as I’ve said before, my portrayal is still very new.

PHYSICAL

Ireland stands at about 5’5, or about 165cm. Making her about the average height for an Irish woman. She still gets teased by Scotland for being “short.”

She has pretty small features. Small, green eyes, a tiny little button nose, and a small mouth with thin lips. She is very pretty, but she still looks quite approachable.

She has long, beautiful ginger hair. It’s pretty wavy, her natural texture is 2c, but she styles it pretty often. Her siblings have always loved to tease her about her hair- the colour and texture- so she’s pretty insecure about it.

She’s very good at styling her hair because of this, though she’s no longer a massive fan of fancy up does. She insists she’s no good on hair that isn’t her own, but she taught most of her siblings how to do at least a plait growing up.

Ireland is covered in freckles, from head to toe.

Her skin is naturally very pale, but it’s also very sensitive, and can turn red pretty easily. She always has to be careful about the stuff she puts on, or else she’ll come out in a rash.

She has a tooth gap between her two front teeth, it represents the River Shannon, the longest river in Ireland.

She has a rectangle body shape, although she used to be a bit curvier when she was younger.

Once rounder and softer, her body still hasn’t returned to how it looked before the potato famine of the 1800s. Her size is far healthier now, but she’s still quite thin and boney. Ireland is not her ideal size, and wishes she could gain a bit more weight to feel more comfortable.

That being said, her bottom is actually pretty plump. Representing the mountains that lie around the edge of Ireland.

Whilst she does like to wear make up every now and then, she’s actually pretty bad at it. Her application can be patchy, and she’s not the best at matching shades. It’s nothing you’ll notice straight away, however, and she genuinely does feel prettier when she wears it.

She has the Triskelion, or the Celtic Spiral Knot, tattooed on the inside of her upper, right arm. The symbol has different meanings depending on who you ask, but she had it tattooed to represent the continuous of life, and moving forward. It was also just a way for her personally to show that she will never, ever let her culture be stripped from her.

PERSONALITY

Ever the extrovert, Ireland is friendly and welcoming to everyone she meets. She has a natural ease about her, and a remarkable ability to make people comfortable around her quickly. Within 2 sentences, you could easily feel as though you’ve known her your entire life. Like you’re laughing and joking with an old friend.

Much like her brother, Scotland, Ireland is remarkable at comedy and making people laugh, she firmly believes a good sense of humour goes a long way. Her humour is a bit more lighthearted and witty than the rest of her siblings.

Ireland shows her affection through teasing and sarcasm. It’s how she jokes with her friends, and the more she teases you, the more she likes you. It could come across as mean, but her tone is usually playful enough to not cause harm.

Her culture truly means everything to her, and she loves sharing it with people. She actually loves meeting tourists, she loves telling them stories of her people, and she actually isn’t opposed to sharing her past with them. She will proudly gives them ideas of other places in Ireland to visit, and things to do, she hopes that everyone who takes the time to come visit leaves happy and smiling, having had a fun, interesting and informative experience.

However, she is also extremely protective and defensive of herself, her culture and her past. After years of oppression, being ignored and spoken over, who can blame her? She isn’t too appreciative when someone speaks on her behalf, she doesn’t like other’s sharing information without consulting her directly. She is vocal, and not afraid to step up and correct people, and put them in their place.

Empathy is where Ireland truly shines. Easily feeling and immediate connection with and understanding for those going through hardship. She will always be an advocate for the underdog, for those whose voices are not being properly heard. She longs to provide the compassion, and the feeling of having someone in your corner, that she lacked when she was suffering.

That being said, she can be very judgmental, and she’s a huge gossiper. She usually attempts to soften it by saying something like “and, god love them” or “god, bless their heart” or “but who am I to judge?” as though she’s not just been talking shit for the past hour.

Ireland cannot hide her feelings, and she doesn’t see the need to. She’s very open when she’s happy, upset, angry etc.

For as open a person as she can be, she still hasn’t quite processed her hurt and her negative feelings correctly. Choosing to brush it off, and pretend she no longer cares. She can grow very resentful because of this, but she absolutely refuses to accept this may be a problem.

Ireland can be feisty and fiery if need be, she knows how to defend herself and she will! She’s never been shy, no matter what, and she won’t let someone walk all over her. She never has, and she never will go down without a fight. She prides herself on this.

Ireland is extremely laid back, she’s not prone to jealousy or possessiveness, and she’s certainly not over-protective about anything. She doesn’t see the point of trying to cling onto someone, it all just seems pointless.

HOBBIES

Ireland is creative mind, and one of her best skills is gold-smithing and her ability to work with metals. She prefers to make her own jewellery, and she loves making fancy and intricate broaches especially. However, she mainly does smaller projects now, as her workshop is merely a cleared out space in her basement. She’d love to find a bigger place to rent out.

You will rarely ever find someone who’s a better storyteller than Ireland, she truly has a way with words. Be it short stories, poems or songs, she excels at it. She absolutely loved to share her stories with her siblings when they were growing up.

Music means a lot to Ireland, she wouldn’t know who she is without it, and as well as writing songs, she also sings. She doesn’t have the best voice, but it’s pretty and melodic. It’s soft and calming, and she has fine technic. But it’s certainly nothing special.

She also plays the harp, which she’s very skilled with.

Ireland loves a party and celebration, and she always goes all in. She seemingly never gets tired, or never needs to go home to rest, she can just keep going.

On a calmer note, she also loves just sitting in a pub and having a few casual drinks. Doesn’t need to be a celebration. She especially loves a proper Irish bar, and she almost has a sixth sense where she can find one wherever she goes.

Speaking of bars, Ireland is pretty good at snooker. She’s no hobbyist though. She and Scotland are at pretty much an equal level, and they’re the only two in the family who stand a chance of beating one another.

She loves a good walk around the countryside, and she’s always driving out of the city to have a stroll. Though she will constantly complain about the sheep blocking the road.

She does boxing, though she’s still a very low level beginner, and definitely not good enough to go up against anyone yet. It was a hobby she picked up a few years back, to try and help her build some strength and muscle.

As well as sharing her own, Ireland absolutely loves taking the time to learn about other cultures of the world too. Every time she has a meeting in a foreign country that she doesn’t visit too often, she tries to see and do as many cultural things as she can outside of work. She absolutely loves travelling.

She adores animals, she firmly believes they’re smarter than humans give them credit for, and she loves to draw them! She’s not the most skilled artist, she really only does sketch work in a sketch book. She rarely attempts to colour in, or smooth out the lines.

Ireland’s favourite, and her comfort show, is Father Ted, she puts it on whenever she’s upset. Without fail, it will always make her laugh, even if she’s seen every episode about 1000 times already.

Ireland enjoys knitting, alongside some of her other family members. She pretty much exclusively knits all of her own cardigans herself.

LIFESTYLE

Ireland uses the human name Saoirse Ó Raghallaigh, which later got anglicised to Saoirse O’Reilly. Between the use of these different spellings, she was forced to take the name Kirkland for a time. She changed it back following independence, but used the new spelling to help blend in with her people.

Irish is her first language, and she is determined to help keep the language alive. She offers tutoring lessons for people (Irish or not) to learn the language. Unfortunately, she’s not the best at teaching.

Alongside Irish, she also knows English, ISL (Irish Sign Language), Latin and BSL (British Sign Language). She knows a little bit of Manx and Scottish Gaelic.

Saoirse currently lives in Dublin. She used to own a farmhouse, but following independence she decided it’d be best to move to the city. She sometimes misses her old house, and you’ll catch her reminiscing on it. She doesn’t hate city life, though.

She is incredibly family oriented. If you ask Saoirse, family always has and always should come first. As the oldest, she helped raise all her siblings the best she could. She always felt closest to Northern Ireland and Scotland when they were growing up, and whilst she & Scotland are still close to this day, things with N. Ireland have been better. Their relationship has recently been… strained, to put it nicely. Saoirse is still waiting for the day when they can be close again. She never has and never will stop reaching out.

Ireland does not have any pets. However, for most of her life, she had a Wolf friend who would always find its way back to her no matter where she travelled. She did not own this wolf, it was free and was part of a pack, however, it was supposedly immortal, like many hetalia pets. It was killed in the 1700s. Ireland has a picture of it that she drew herself hung up in her living room.

In terms of religious beliefs, Saoirse would describe herself as “Catholic Pagan.” She might get some strange looks from foreigners who hear this term, but her religious beliefs combine both Catholicism and Celtic Paganism. She believes in the Lord, and in Jesus, but also believes in and sees traditional folk creatures. She seeks guidance and truth in tales from both religions.

Out of all of her siblings, Ireland is probably the worst driver. She usually is not in front of the wheel when someone else is in the car, because they don’t feel entirely safe in the car when she drives.

Saoirse is so bad when it comes to procrastination. She’s perhaps too laid back in that aspect. She doesn’t like to rush anything, and will continue to push back things she needs to do until she can actually be bothered. If anyone calls her out on it, she’ll blame the weather, saying something like, “have you seen how it’s raining out there? It’s not fit to do anything!”

She has a small fairy friend who lives at the bottom of her garden, named Órlaith, who likes to sneak inside the house and cause trouble when Saoirse isn’t in. Otherwise, you can sometimes see her fluttering above her shoulder. It’s not uncommon for the pair of them to gossip together about certain people they meet.

You’ll never not see her without a cup of tea. She perhaps has too much of it, drinking multiple cups at home, and taking some out with her in a travel mug if she’s going somewhere. If she’s visiting someone, she’ll be sat waiting to be offered a cup of tea. She drinks the most out of the whole family, which drives england nuts. She’ll get grumpy if she doesn’t have a cup of tea on a morning.

#had to get this up on st paddy’s day ☘️#Saoirse my darling 💕#hetalia #aph ireland #hws ireland

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velvet-games · 23 days

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I finally finished the piece for @prince-liest's OC, Tzafael! this really reminded me of how fun character design is (and also that I've completely forgotten how to make digital art, but that's besides the point...) <3

credit to @hogbogglerspirits for the umbrella design! I kind of butchered it so please look at the original and throw lots of love at them

LOTS of notes, draft sketches, brainstorming, etc. below the cut. enjoy!

(note: a lot of what I'm talking about is based on posts prince made under their #tzafael tag, so take a look at those if you haven't yet!)

thanks for joining me below the cut! here's the sketch without the colors as a treat (in case you want to color it yourself or something, idk).

notes about making the digital drawing:

holy shit this took me forever -- I was not kidding about forgetting how to make digital art lmao. I forgot how much less forgiving digital lines are and genuinely lost the spoons to even attempt lineart, hence just a sketch below the colors.

some of you might've seen the original sketch I sent to prince, which the digital version diverges from just a little. it's mostly the halo which I'll explain later, and I finally caved and drew the sixth eye (you can tell I drew and erased it multiple times in the sketch lmao -- still don't know if I prefer it with or without)

here's the original color ref by the lovely @gendermeh! my color scheme ended up looking really different, so some notes about that:

I was looking at references for magpies like this

and I wanted to basically follow that color scheme while also being somewhat similar to the original -- dark head/shoulders --> dark top of the jacket, bright blue wings --> bright blue bottom of the jacket, greenish tailfeathers --> green pants, hints of purple --> purplish sleeve and pant ends

I also tried (and mostly failed, let's be real) to capture the iridescence of the feathers -- they look like oil spilled on the pavement or iridescent hematite to me! I think the key ended up being adding bright greens/purples and roughly blending them into the blues or vice versa but I didn't really figure that out until I got to the pants lol.

I'm gonna be honest; I don't remember why I went with this shape for the tailcoat. I just remember being unhappy with the sketch and then trying a bunch of different shapes that mostly looked worse lol -- I think I landed on this because a split tail kind of looks like wings?

KEPT the shoes -- absolutely magnifique. I wish I knew how to color gold better.

added lots of jewelry! they like shiny things :)

ALSO PLEASE LOOK AND APPLAUD ME. I FINALLY REMEMBERED TO LABEL MY LAYERS!! NO I DON'T REMEMBER WHY THE HALO HAS ITS OWN LAYER.

alright, time for some more design notes/explanations + draft sketches!

but first, a couple disclaimers:

I want to make it very clear that I LOVE everything about the original design. I made a lot of changes based on personal preference/the way I interpreted the character. I was actually planning on making a digital piece that was more faithful to the original design too, but I was just out of spoons for it cause of life stuff.

you probably shouldn't try to read the notes I made in the sketches I'm about to show you unless I say otherwise. most of it is incoherent brain vomit in illegible artist handwriting and I'll transcribe/explain the stuff I think is important :) (the stuff in quotes are direct transcriptions of my notes)

I know my sketches are very messy lol. I only draw for fun, so I usually don't force myself to make stuff any neater than necessary unless it's supposed to be a formal piece. try to bear with me.

my first few sketches of them! (I think?) this was before I sent prince a laundry list of questions so I was still trying to get a vibe

"magpie -- beak lips?" -- you'll see this in a few sketches; I considered giving them the lipstick design that velvette has since it looks like a beak. I still kind of think it's cute, but 1) I'm pretty sure velvette is the only character that has them, so I didn't want to make it seem like they were related somehow and 2) I thought it might be distracting with how much other crazy stuff I ended up including in their head/face

also, sidenote since it's relevant to what I said about vel: something I realized was important is how one character's design relates to the designs of the rest of the cast. I wasn't sure how much I should've gone for what looked good in a vacuum, how much should be based on what other characters looked like canonically, or what other characters would look like if I also designed them. it ended up being mostly the second option, but it was honestly still a struggle. should I take away some of the tumblr-sexyman-ness (no shade to tumblr sexymen; I love them) because there are other characters that already have it? should I relate their design to sera's and emily's in the show or should I think about how I would've designed sera and emily? should I follow some of the design philosophy of the original show and just throw stuff on there because it looks cool (the answer is yes btw)? decisions, decisions ...

I don't think this showed up really well in most of the drawings, but they actually have a black line down their nose! let's take a look at sera:

since they're siblings, I wanted to include some similar facial markings. the nose line ended up being the only thing I kept though -- I was going to include freckles, but I have a compulsive need to give every character giant bottom lashes so there ended up being no room T.T I like that the magpie's hints of purple kind of match hers tho!

the wingification of the hair begins! I was still unsure of it at this point, but it was an idea I had since I was kind of struggling with how straight the feathers were in the original.

"maybe the ones on their head count as wings (so only one main pair)" -- I originally just had the 2 pairs of wings on their head, so I was thinking of just giving them 1 pair on their back so there would be still be 6 total. also this middle drawing of them is meant to be their exorcist outfit (I wanted it to be a cross between what the other exorcists wear and sera's outfit)

at this stage, I was thinking of giving them more magpie-like characteristics, so I looked at some references and tried to emulate them in a more human design. this ended up being really awkward so I scrapped it, but I still like the idea that their exorcist mask looks like a bird (kind of like a plague doctor's)

peekaboo! I love the idea of them using the wing hair to cover their eyes lol. (ended up using that idea for my own seraph OC since that's their biblically accurate purpose: to cover their eyes/faces in reverence/humility -- doesn't really fit with tzafael tho lol, so they show their face most of the time)

an eyeball in the bowtie -- pretty self-explanatory. the eyeball motif is important.

the one in the middle is just me practicing drawing the original design, and the one on the right is another exorcist outfit I think. I wanted to include the diamond motif/points that sera has on her dress (the diamonds on the bottom turn into eyeballs, which is why the final design also has eyeballs on tzafael's sleeves/pants)

lots of notes on the side based on what prince said in response to my ask

"localized omniscience (power of sight) -- cool + ironic that their sight was supposed to serve God but made them see Heaven for what it really is instead"

another exorcist outfit, this time including the feathers

I was also experimenting with the halo; I was trying to make it look sort of like sera's crown, but that didn't feel right ...

some practice with eyes -- my style is pretty flexible with eye shapes, so I try to make them suit the character. I drew lute's eye and also an actual magpie's as references -- lute's because of the exorcist background and also because they looked appropriately sharp, magpie's for obvious reasons. once again, my compulsive need for giant bottom lashes strikes

there was honestly a lot to balance with the eyes -- I wanted them to look condescending/bored (lowered top lid) but also amused (raised bottom lid) and like a magpie (round) but also harsh/mischievous (sharp, maybe slit pupils like a snake) and similar to sera's (but not too decorated -- also does it make sense for them to look like sera's if emily's don't even look like sera's?)

considered having wings on the shoulders -- the magpie pattern is super cool, so it would've been nice to have that somewhere more explicitly in the design. I still think that might fit in an outfit they would wear in heaven (maybe for formal occasions)

the introduction of the sweatervest! honestly I kind of love this for the way it captures more of the preppy, spoiled old-money upper-class vibe some heaven residents have, but it was scrapped since I couldn't imagine them wearing that while trying to scare the denizens of hell. maybe something they wear casually though.

"yes nictating membrane (on every eye!)" -- AHH I'm so sad I didn't end up putting this to use. I just feel like the whole effect is based on actually seeing them blink, and I don't animate lol.

ugh, the nefarious laughter one ... don't worry I tried harder on a sketch later on lol.

"like the diamonds on Sera + Em" + "diamonds turn into eyes?" -- I draw the diamonds on the sweatervest turning into eyes later.

tried an actual bow instead of a bowtie -- very cute but didn't fit the vibe.

a skirt! I think they would wear a skirt sometimes.

"FUCK ASS BOB" -- asghdk the wingification of the hair continues. unfortunately, I'm realizing at this point that the silhouette of the hair is starting to look a lot like alastor's. I gave a very half-hearted attempt at mitigating this, but it goes back to the thing of how much I am obligated to the original show's designs and what looks cool to me -- I think the wing hair fits them and I didn't want to change it because of alastor, plus my alastor design actually has completely different hair anyway. I did add a third pair to the back to look like a ponytail though.

introduction of the scarf! I was actually going to include this in the final design but uh,,, I forgor. are you starting to see a pattern.

the reason for the scarf is that the "tzafael going to places they know they'll draw attention/can incite chaos" reminded me of that scene in avengers where loki walks into a fancy building looking pretentious af and just casually stabs a guy's eye out. not really the same thing but I felt like the vibe matched. hence, loki's funny little scarf fit.

uaoughdfjh it was SO FUN to draw the wing hair, and it was at this point that I realized they had to stay even though I wasn't sure if it was too different from the original.

gossiping with rosie cause that's the first person I thought of -- tzafael also summoned a pearl necklace to clutch because of the sheer drama of it all (your ex-husband did what??)

also started drawing the rings on their hands. magpie like shiny.

lots of notes cause I was trying to compile the things I still needed to think about/incorporate into the final (I thought this was gonna be the last draft ... haha)

trying to include more bird/eye motifs

"fish ... purse?" -- ha! I forgot I was gonna give them a fish purse. I think I drew that in a later sketch, but not them wearing it.

"picked up Hellish traits bc of extended stay -- existential crisis?" -- I asked prince about the sharp teeth, and their answer implied that they became sharp as they stayed in hell longer, which got me thinking ... I feel like that's actually a great body horror concept. lucifer falling and looking like a normal angel at first, eventually waking up to more and more devilish features and feeling more and more like he's lost his home and his past self ... spooky.

another exorcist outfit -- I actually really like the eyes on the ribs! I never made a final draft for the exorcist uniform, but it would probably look close to what I drew here.

the one on the bottom was meant to be similar to the feathered shoulder pad idea, but this time with the whole magpie (with giant eyes). tried putting the "freckles" (really just dots in this case) over their brows, but that ended up looking kinda weird.

the eye is pretty close to the final design

the one on the right was supposed to be the full final design, but I was totally off lol -- the long trench coat really doesn't give off the right vibe at all

playing around more with the loki vibes of the scarf, also added an eyeball to the chest

I never got happy with the design of the back of the coat -- I think it should probably just be blank at this point. but the sketch here is meant to look like wings/tailfeathers.

yet another exorcist outfit, this time with more magpie motifs. I actually like this one a lot, but I probably should've added the eyes on the ribs from the last sketch. I think I also considered giving them actual tailfeathers at this point.

thanks for sticking with me! I promise we're almost done. have a trans dinosaur I saw while I was travelling as a treat <3

10:

this is after I finished the sketch for the final piece and realized I didn't like the halo design. I drew lute's, sera's, em's, and adam's as refs. (honestly I love the show's idea that each person/people of each rank have a different kind of halo -- I wonder if they can switch them out?)

my main inspiration ended up being the exorcist halo, but I made it look more like an eyeball -- since it always points toward heaven, we can say it's always "looking" at heaven.

(also sera's feather lashes! they're so cute)

11:

EVEN MORE EXORCIST DOODLES

12:

tzafael shooing away my fox demon OC

13:

these are actually sketches for my own seraph OC (raguel), but I wanted to include it since it has even more wing/feather hair variations. I also think the idea of the eyelashes being feather-like could've been cool for tzafael.

14:

some more OG design doodles

tzafael and raguel together because self-indulgence is the name of the game babey (also wanted to draw tzafael freaked out with their wings flared)

(raguel's blind btw, hence asking for eyes -- tzafael has so many!)

you can probably read the dialogue here so give it a shot. I believe in you.

15:

you know what? the fish purse deserves some doodles

16:

putting them in Situations! I was reading over prince's posts again and I realized there were some funny things I could draw them doing/saying

again you can probably read the words here

angel dust also loves fish (but is apparently bad at taking care of them, hence the suffocating blobfish), so tzafael shows him their aquarium (complete with live fish and flora ofc)

I thought alastor was 8 ft but apparently he's 7.3 ft? so tzafael is enjoying the .2 ft they have on him

trying and failing again to come up with a design for the back of the jacket lol

THE crowley quote

apparently the halo still sends signals from the exorcists -- thought their reaction to the battle at the hotel would be funny

the nefarious laughter (take 2) that I promised -- based on a doodle of alastor viv did that I found

them being sad and curling up in a pile of shiny things like a dragon

OKAY I'M DONE. huge, huge thank you to prince for sharing their OC! this was a lot of fun and clearly inspired me a lot haha. please check out their writing; it's literally so good that I can't read anything else these days. I am chewing on their thoughts constantly.

this was an absolute monster of a post, so if you're still reading, I am both impressed and bewildered at your patience. I hope you enjoyed! (I certainly did!)

#prince (because they are very sweet): I'm excited to see your thoughts!#my thoughts: magpie like shiny hehe #hazbin hotel oc #prince-liest #hazbin hotel #my art #character design #sera hazbin hotel #em hazbin hotel

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nordickies · 6 months

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I'm curious, how do you view Åland in your head? Are they Sweden and Finland's kid or something else? How about Faroe, what is their relationship to Denmark? Or Greenland (I know for a fact that Greenland's relationship with Denmark isn't good)

Sorry for the long ask ;w;

Hello anon! It's not a long question! I just don't really know how to introduce these guys, so let's start with an oversimplified relationship chart, I guess?

Quick explanation under the cut. I don't know why it is so scary to talk about my OCs publicly, aah

Åland isn't Sweden and Finland's kid, but she's significantly younger than them, and they did end up practically raising her together. I've been going back and forth on whether I want her to be their "kid" or not - but in the end, I decided to apply the same logic I use with Denmark and Iceland; it's some kind of guardianship.

To me, guardianship means person X is looking after person Y and being responsible for their upbringing. In these instances, we're talking about significantly younger Nations that have been juveniles for most of their lifetime; someone has needed to take the custodian responsibility over them. But because the relationship can be interpreted as parental or siblinglike (with a significant age gap), I just prefer to use the term "guardian."

Faroe, just like Iceland, was raised by Denmark. Except unlucky for him, he's still stuck with the old man. Faroe just tends to get forgotten a lot. He's a friendly young gentleman, the "easy" child in a messy household, if you will. Though he wishes he made more of a noise about himself - to remind everyone that he exists and show that he's indeed an individual. Well, at least he has Åland to keep him company, since they're both doomed to sit at the "kids' table" during family gatherings. And yes, they're the same age as Iceland

While Denmark has been Greenland's "guardian" on paper, they never developed that kind of relationship. She doesn't feel particularly close to him and for various reasons, she never adjusted to her "adoptive" family. The relationship is rough but they still try to make it work somehow. Nowadays, she's happier with home rule, slowly making her way toward potential full independence. Greenland, Kalaallit Nunaat, has been inhabited by indigenous people for thousands of years. But this isn't the same Greenland that would have been around during the Viking Age. I'm just basing that on the fact that the ancestors of the modern people of Greenland, the Inuit, came to the island from the east in the 13th century, referred to as the Thule culture, which replaced the former Dorset/Tuniit culture.

Sápmi is the oldest Nation of the bunch by a long margin. Because of this, she has acted as a mentor figure to the Fennoscandians in their youth and is often referred to as their "aunt." Sápmi's relationship with her neighbors has been extremely turbulent. But still, she remembers them as hopeless little kids getting lost in the wilderness, whom she taught survival skills. She sees them as her unruly boys but feels especially bad that Finland had to grow up so soon. She still finds herself scolding Sweden, who to this day acts like a little kid around her. Norway views her in high regard, someone he goes to with his worries and feelings. She's a nation with no state, but tries her best to represent her people and culture to the world.

Karelia is an older Nation as well, perhaps older than the Scandinavians. Karelia is a Baltic-Finnic nation extending from Lake Ladoga to the White Sea. She has longtime connections with Finland, Sweden, Estonia, Ingria, Sápmi, Russia, and Ukraine. But she has always been a nation between East and West, being literally split between them even to this day. Karelia's borders have changed constantly throughout history, making the region extremely diverse. Because of this, and her people being broken apart multiple times in recent memory, her identity feels a bit shattered. Yet it's incredibly strong, with colorful culture, traditions, and language - being unique from the other Finnic groups.

I personally think that Nations and their relationships with each other don't have to be 1-1 adaptations to their real-life counterparts, where every single historical event plays out exactly like in a textbook. History, culture, politics, and, most importantly, people's personal experiences and relationships with their country will always be individual even to people from the same group. But we also shouldn't completely ignore and sugarcoat history, thus downplaying or, in the worst case, contributing to the ongoing harm. So, as rich as the source to create OCs is in this fandom, it's also an endless loophole with no clear answer to anything. But as long as we're ready to be respectful, be willing to learn, and keep an open mind, I don't see a problem with it <3

#i'm bad at explaining but hopefully my idea comes across #also perhaps this explains why i don't feel particularly strongly about shipping the nordics with each other - there is a lot going on #oc talk #hws faroe islands #hws åland #hws greenland #hws sápmi #hws karelia

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capybaraonabicycle · 5 months

Text

End of the Year Creator's Ask Game

I need more ask games in my life so I made one to reflect on our creative output of the past year. I think I have seen similar games before so I hope I am not stealing from anyone.

Please put an ask into the ask box of the person you reblogged this from <3

Which work of the past year are you proudest of? Can you pinpoint why?

Is there a work of the past year you could see yourself revisiting in the future and redoing/changing/reinterpreting?

Have you redrawn/rewritten/revisisted any earlier works this year? What are your reflections on how your interpretation of the subject has changed?

Which wips are you taking into the new year?

Which wips of the last year will you abandon/leave behind?

Which one would you say is your most popular work of the last year? Are you glad it is this one that turned into a sensation?

Which work of the last year do you wish had gotten more recognition? Why do you love it?

Have you gotten any feedback this year that has stuck with you? Is there anyone you would like to say thank you to?

Have you found any new inspirations this year? Is there anyone you would like to say thank you to?

Have you tried anything new this year? Any new art forms perhaps?

What are your creator's new year's resolutions? Do you have any?

(For creators that do fanart/fanfic/etc) Which show/movie/book/etc have you created for the most? What do you enjoy most about creating for it?

(For creators that do fanart/fanfic/etc) Which character/ship have you created for the most? What do they mean to you?

Are there any new characters/fandoms/subjects you started creating for during the last year? Do you remember what made you get into them?

Have you created any new OCs this year? Care to introduce us?

Is there a subject/character/show you wish you had created more for? Why do you think you didn't?

What is the biggest creative hurdle you had to overcome last year? What helped you through it?

Can you pick a line/image fragment/etc of your work that encapsulates the last year best for you?

How many words did you write last year?/How many pieces of art did you create last year?/How many sets of gifs did you create last year? /[insert suitable question for your type of works]

(How) has your work managed to surprise you last year?

Have you done any collaborations last year? Which one(s) was(were) your favourite(s)? Is there anyone you would like to say thank you to?

Are there any challenges/gift exchanges/etc you participated in last year? Which one was your favourite?

Are there any tips you would give yourself from one year ago concerning your art/work?

Can you name one to five things that made you happy to be a creator during the last year?

Can you share one to five favourites of the works you made last year?

Free ask (ask any question about last year's creations that you like or leave this blank for the creator to choose their own question they would like to answer)

Whether or not you'll send/receive any asks for this game: If you're reading this and you're a creator, then thank you for all your hard work! I may never see it but knowing how many people on this site are putting their love and energy and time into creating stunning works for free for everybody is making me unbelievably happy. Thank you for being a part of that! No matter whether you made 5000+ works last year or a single one in theory - Thank you for creating and thank you for dreaming! You're beautiful and so is your art <3

#ask game

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anemoarchonhoe · 1 month

Text

Greetings! Writing commission details:

Commissions: Closed.

Fandoms I will write for:

Genshin Impact, Undertale, Deltarune, Undertale Yellow, Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (I only watch the anime, so-), my own OCs

AUs I will write for:

Genshin: SAGAU, modern au

Undertale: Underfell, Underswap (I prefer TS!US' version so I will write for it in default unless you want the original), Flowerfell, Farmtale, Underplayer

Characters:

Genshin: Venti, Xiao, Wanderer, Aether, Xingqiu, Gaming

Undertale/Deltarune: Papyrus, Sans, Napstablook, Mettaton, Muffet, Mad Mew Mew, Asgore, DR!Asriel, Dalv, Starlo, Martlet, Ceroba

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End: Frieren, Himmel the hero

My OCs (pictures below, in order): Vee the purple witch, The Janitor, Elwin the elven rogue, Eye of the Storm (has a name instead of them being Reader-insert, Genshin, no pics sorry)

Will write: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mildly suggestive, selfship (reader/canon), OC/canon, friendships, yandere character/reader

Won't write: Homophobia, pedophilia, incest, gore, smut, self harm, anything nsfw

Rules (sorta):

If you want me to write for your OC, please give me detailed information about them. I wouldn't know how to write them if you don't. Character sheet and/or a picture would be nice. If you don't have a written personality for them, we can quickly discuss how you at least imagine them to act in the fic in DMs. I can also just give it my own interpretation if you wish, but I will charge you $2 for the extra effort. Keep this in mind.

For reader-insert, I usually write the Reader to be strong and determined, so if you want a more subdued personality, please let me know or I will default to this one.

For 500/1k word fics, love letters, and headcanons, please give me a scenario to work on. I only write one shot fics for commissions, so don't try to ask for a multi-chapter, please. I am busy with college, so one shots are all I can afford to write.

And tell me if you are okay with me posting the commissioned piece on Tumblr or if you'd like to keep it for yourself.

You can ask me for updates on your commission. But please understand I have a life outside of social media that I gotta prioritize (like my studies) so it may get delayed a little depending on how large your commission is. I also prioritize smaller/less wordy commissions so I can give them out immediately, so don't be mad.

I reserve my right to reject a commission if I feel like I couldn't do it.

PLEASE DO NOT FEED MY WORK TO AI.

Languages I can/will write in: English and Filipino

Payment:

For my Filipino friends, I accept both Paypal and GCash. I'd like it more if it was Paypal/ko-fi, though.

For overseas commissioners, Paypal/ko-fi only.

You can pay me the full amount as soon as we finalize your commission or you can pay me the full amount once I finish your commission. I'd appreciate it if you do the first option but I won't hold it against you if you choose to do the second. Everyone doesn't want to get scammed.

However, if you do not pay and ghost me, I will modify the work to my taste, post it on my ko-fi page, and then block you from my Tumblr/Discord.

Now that you're done reading, reply to this post immediately to get a slot and if you make it, I will DM you my Discord handle for further discussion. I have a small slot for now because I don't wanna get overwhelmed. I will reopen immediately once they're done, though, so don't worry if you miss out!

First come, first serve.

Slots: 3

#ventus.commission #ventus.rambles #writing commissions

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1-800-ye0sangspr1ncess · 6 months

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I have been having this thot for a while

just imagine hoshi having a crush on cheol's gf, keeping it a secret from everyone, being hurt whenever he sees them together acting all lovey dovey with each other.

he knows that they love eachother but he cant help but think that if, what if it was him insted of cheol, loving u, kissing u, taking care of u, making love to u.

he didnt realize when his soft pure feelings for u turned into this intense passionate lust to make u his and his only.

having wet dreams about u two having this almost animalistic sex, he cant help but jerk off in the middle of the night.

oh....oh my.. the more i read on, the messier this got and yet i can't help but wish i found myself in a situation like this.... let me write you all the closest we'll get to this. and anon pairing: soonyoung x reader (indirectly) warnings: soonyoung is downright delulu for oc, shit ton of jealousy, fantasies of infidelity (fucking another man's girl), use of the nickname (sooyoo) and pet names (baby, sweetie, honey) NUMEROUS times, oc has size kink(loves how big sooyoo is, with that said...), dig bick soonyoung, "oblivious" cheol, lowkey not so humble bragger (loves letting everybody know 'you're his' type shit) cheol, jihoon & jeonghan feature, alcohol consumption, sorta subspace soonyoung??? (not proof read)

Open Arms - Kwon Soonyoung

soonyoung lazily turned the front door knob to his dark and cold apartment. The silence that enclosed him in the space made it all the more apparent that for yet another night, he was lonely and you were far from being his. the smell of his spirit-tainted clothes and mouth, clinging to him the way he'd hoped your body would've by the end of the night.

it's not that soonyoung wasn't happy for his friend seungcheol... actually, that's exactly what it was. he himself was taken aback by just how sincere-sounding his laughing along with everyone throughout dinner was, as you recalled how seungcheol had forgotten to transfer yours and his photos of your recent vacation from the disposable camera before he absent-mindedly threw it away this morning.

"well, excuse me, miss 'let's get a disposable camera to embody a true traveller's lifestyle' tsk" he pitched his voice a few octaves higher to mimic your statement from two weeks back. "ok bitch, first of all, I don't sound like that," you pinched seungcheol's cheek, leaving him scrunching his face in what the rest of the group members couldn't help but laugh off and interpret as pure agony "ow! damn what'd you pinch me for?" soonyoung rolled his eyes, "sickening..." he murmured to himself, dragging out a sip of his chilled bourbon, "and secondly, it's not my fault they haven't figured out a way to make 'em automatically transfer to your phone?! you'd know if what you had bothered to read the instructions token, mister" you playfully huffed.

"yeah, well, that'll teach us to never buy a two-dollar camera again. besides, I've got all those pretty pictures of you engraved in my mind" he chuckled, coming teasingly close to you, soonyoung with a frown less than containable, paying careful attention to the hand that danced its way around your waist from above the table. the hold on his glass visibly tightening, "ehem..." jeonghan pulled him from the boiler room of his thoughts. "you know, I never took you for the jealous kind." he jeered. "oh yeah? that obvious is it?" he placed his glass down on the table, the ice having burned his hand from how long it cupped it. "well, we've changed the conversation about three times and you've been staring at the...lack of a gap between cheol and y/n's waists for the past three minutes or so" his eyes now back to momentarily facing the place of general conversation, returning to see a ticked-off soonyoung. "c'mon aren't you of all people even a little grossed out by the excessive amount of pda right now?" he gestured his hand to the direction of yourself and seungcheol, who currently were giggling to yourselves about whatever seungcheol fucked up this time around. "I dunno, I think they're kinda cute" jeonghan teasingly knocked his shoulder against soonyoung's. he lived for the sole purpose of annoying his friends, and soonyoung was no exception. "I'm gonna go get some fresh air." he abruptly stood up from the table, all eyes now on him, a mix of unphased and all-the-more apparent confusion splashed across the table's faces. "everything alright, sooyoo?" your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, glossy pillowy lips turned down all just the same. oh, how his heart ached and his ears perked all at once at the nickname. expression softening at your concern "just peachy!" a wide grin making its way unknowingly across his face, "let us know if you need anything bud." your boyfriend just couldn't help himself could he. always feeling the need to butt in and ruin things. the sweet gaze you'd bestowed him, he'd quickly tattooed in his mind, now turned bitter by cheol's genuine remark of concern. "will do." soonyoung thumbed up, not even turning to face cheol as he walked out the door.

"what was that about?" jihoon now sat adjacent to jeonghan, filling soonyoung's seat, "mmhhm," he shrugged, "something about bitter and sweet..." it had only occurred to him now as he replayed the night's events that he'd never actually turned back and had gotten all the way home. "fuck..." he muttered. too drained physically and emotionally to turn back and apologize for taking long, even though the bar was across the street. "what's that asshole have that I don't?" he thought, taking his shoes off before placing them on their spotlit shelf before hurriedly moving to the primary bathroom. now disrobing himself and hopping into the shower, the tension leaving his body as the steam fogged up the glass of the box and mirrors. he thought the anxiety had fully rid itself from him, only for it to creep back once he'd made his way out of the shower to see two notifications from you, one being a missed call. his mind raced, thinking of how upset or hurt you must've been for him to have walked out, judging by the time, he was almost certain dinner was long over by now. he hesitantly played the voice note, only to be pleasantly surprised with your honey-coated voice and the soft humming of the car. "hey sooyoo, you left your coat on your seat and you weren't back by the time dinner wrapped up so cheollie and I took your coat for you." a humph of satisfaction erupting from him but your boyfriend's nickname left a bitter taste in his mouth. "hey bud,' the male's voice interjected, blaring through the phone's speaker, turning the volume down in annoyance he continued to listen "y/n thought about dropping it off for you but we'll swing by tomorrow. i told her, knowing your rowdy ass, you're probably not even home yet so we figured we wouldn't bother you." he chuckled, to which soonyoung involuntarily rolled his eyes in distaste. "anyways sooyoo, drink some water and get some rest. we'll see you tomorrow around noon-ish... if you ever need anybody to talk to...I'm here." he was in agony. oh, how badly he wished you wouldn't speak to him as a mere friend, how he craved for there to be space to drop the formalities, so desperate for you that he'd let you speak to him wherever and however you wanted. he loved your cute voice, how it deepened a bit in your fits of rage, how raspy and raw he'd imagine it to be if you had chosen to spend the night with him. in all the apparentness of his loneliness, the closest he had to physical consolement being his silk pjs and his weighted blanket. their respective embraces only prompting him to shift deep into thought.

how he wished it were him instead of seungcheol whose arms you found solace in. how he wished you'd laugh at his jokes with nearly as much relish as you did your boyfriend's. how he wished you wouldn't have to enlighten him of your support of him, how if it was you and him, you'd be there with open arms, and without the exchange of a single word, he'd fall into them as you encasing him tightly with your plush arms. he yearned for your kisses peppering his face as tears rolled down his soft cheeks. he ached for your words of comfort.

"it's ok baby, i'm right here." you rubbed his head, pampering him with soft pats and rubs along his back. "I'm all yours, I promise." you spoke softly to him, not wanting to break the intimate bubble encasing the two of you. "mine?" he sniffled staring into your eyes, the eyes that only softened when they saw him. the eyes he got lost in frequently upon your encounters. wanting nothing more but to drown in your pupils. "mhm." you agreed with a soft smile which only ever melted his heart. you found yourselves in his bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed, angling your head to close the gap between the two of you "but what about seungcheol?" the feeling of jealousy now replaced with genuine concern "like I said baby, I'm all yours." hesitance soon forgotten as he leaned in, your lips even softer than that of what he imagined, hints of cocoa now smothered on his top lip from your gloss, not that he minded.

he was in ecstasy, the one person he ached for most in this world, was right in front of him. he'd long forgotten seungcheol whose obliviousness he chuckled at, as he replayed your words in his head "yours..."

soon after, your figure was sandwiched between his thighs. his towel licking a long stripe up his length, your doe eyes staring up into his through your B9 false lashes, too lazy from the night's festivities to remove your makeup, you summoned the remainder of your energy to make him feel special and feel special he did, the maintenance of eye contact sending a shudder along his spine. "you're so nice and big honey, " you tease, leaving a kiss on his tip, staining it with your lip gloss "can barely fit you in my hands, let alone my mouth." soonyoung's chest heaving in desperation at this point. you'd teased him for what had only been a mere 45-second interval but to him, resembled a century. "please baby, don't tease." the sight of his own tip flushed an angry pink tone, precum threatening to leak and splotches of your glittery lip gloss had him ready to explode.

"so impatient..." you slapped his thigh lightly, his abs flexing upon the sting post-contact. before he could get another word in, you sunk your mouth onto his length for the first time that evening. "oh fuck," the sight of you so eager to please him, and so abruptly too had him in a frenzy. "I knew your pretty mouth was good for more than just talking" the globs of spit that remained on the sides of his cock each time you glided up soon forming a pool at its base. you collected some and used it as lube to tug at the parts of him you couldn't fit. "just like that, sweetie" he praised you as your hand and mouth worked rhythmically in unison. the pet name had your pussy drooling. you were so cock-hungry, the portion of him you already had filling your mouth wasn't enough. you took it upon yourself to push yourself all the way down on him, nose touching his pelvic bone and his tip reaching the far back of your throat "fuck that's it, baby, fuck-, just like that sweetie" soonyoung was nothing short of a gentleman, he wasn't one to be a pusher but he couldn't help but to be eager. especially when you sucked him off so good.

tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the motion, you wanted your baby to feel good, judging by how his hitched breathing and whines got more audible, you were doing a great job. "fuck sweetie, I love you so much" the rambling mess he'd become was a clear indication he was close, a few more tugs of his cock and you had him cumming all over your pretty face. the sight made his cock twitch. being the freak he was, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, creamy white goodness and all.

the only thing stopping him was the sudden knock on the front door. pulling him into a void of post-nut clarity, allowing him to open his eyes to the pathetic sight of his empty, now un-fitted sticky bed sheet, with the only token of gratitude, he imagines you to have left him being a new stain on his favourite ivory satin sheet.

"well shit..."

AN: AHHHHHHH my first full length fic, fucking hell i'm so excited for you all to read this. like WHAT? I ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORK FOR ONCE (I'll definitely come back to proof-read my work in the morning and be like "what the fuck?"). to the person who mad this request. thank you so much my love, you;ve helped me regain my confidence and I'm so very sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you, I know you asked me in the early parts of this year and I just couldn't pull myself out of this slump. thank you and I hope you like it. much love to you all and keep requesting! xoxo, gossip girl... just kidding 1-800-ye0sangspr1ncess.

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a-cosmic-elf · 2 months

Text

Sunday Snippets

It’s been so long since I shared something new, and I needed to write this today. It’s just where my head needed to be.

It’s very rough, unedited, no grammar check or beta read, straight off the cuff. I just needed to get something off my chest.

No pressure tags for The Coemancer Crew. Thank you for tagging me in all your wips.

Last week I retired my Starfield OC, Calitrix. She found her forever home. This is from the end of her story. 🥲 I hope you enjoy!

What We Leave Behind

A Starborn Coemancer by a cosmic elf.

“Not far now,” said the Emissary.

Trix looked at him. Now they were here, back down on this planet. In front of the base that held the buried temple, as she had done many times before, she began to realise. There was something different about this Emissary. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to push her curiosity to the back of her mind.

The Starborn ambush wasn’t really an ambush if you expected it. These days Trix always opted to go high. Before long, they reached the doors of the base, with Andreja in her Constellation suit, bringing up the rear.

“This is it,” the Emissary told her, “hold nothing back.”

“When have you ever known me to hold anything back?” Trix replied, without thinking.

“You have a point,” he conceded, for the first time a flicker of emotion in his voice that sent a pain of longing through Trix’s heart.

Once inside, Trix ignored the bodies, and locked doors, moving directly for the first anomaly, she ran head first into her past. She jogged past Lin and Hellar endlessly debating without stopping this time. I’ll see you again, my friends, I promise. She never reached the artifact, she stepped back through the anomaly and into the base at the buried temple once more.

“The Temple is testing you, always.” The Emissary said.

“I know,” said Trix.

The Emissary paused, “Sorry, I forgot,” his voice cracked, “Noble Starborn.”

Trix was now sure. She had heard that voice before, she recognised it even under all the modulation. This Emissary was none other than Sam Coe.

If only it was her Sam.

The next fight was long and tough, but soon, another Starborn was dust and echos.

Trix spent some time with a locked case, but found it to contain only junk. She wasn’t sure why she was bothering with it at this stage, so close to the Unity, but the thought crossed her mind that she could leave everything of value she had collected this run in the ship’s hold for her crew after she had gone. It was something at least. If poor compensation for being dumped by their captain. Again, at least from her perspective.

Trix had done it more times now than she cared to think about. Always jumping in the hope that this time… what exactly? That she would find her forever home? She feared that perhaps she had already left it behind and there was no going back.

She missed Sam so much. Missed his smile. His carefree disposition. How easy it was to be around him, to always have someone to talk to, to be hold and be held. She missed his attention, his teasing, his need for her. Why that had gone away, or when, she couldn’t fathom. She thought hard and tried to remember where it had all changed.

The first time she had reached the Unity, their time together had not been perfect. She wished that she had done things better, that they could have their time over again and that it would be different, that she would be the Trix he deserved.

The whole time, they had promised each other that they would go through the Unity together. To face whatever it was and whatever was to come, united as a family, Sam, Cora and her.

But then she fired up the drive and met herself. There was a Starborn Trix in the Unity. Trix couldn’t understand why. Were they her future? They didn’t sound like her. Maybe they were the Creators, and it was just the way her mind interpreted the information. Or maybe, Trix in another universe always did sound like that, and therefore it was her fate to jump, because she always has done. But what about Sam?

He was there. Standing in the Unity. He looked at her but didn’t acknowledge her. It was heartbreaking, almost frightening. Trix hated every moment of it, especially the confirmation that they would not be jumping together. That he, Cora and everyone else on the ship would be left behind. That he would one day, jump himself, without her, to who knows where.

Trix couldn’t take it. She could face life without him. So when her Starborn self gave her a choice to go back to him, she took it. After everything they had done and been through together, she would not sacrifice what they had for the Unity. To hell with eternity.

She turned and walked away. She walked back to him.

And, shockingly, he didn’t seem to care. He brushed off her return like it was nothing. Spoke something about how they would all reach the Unity eventually, but for now, this would have to do. He seemed non-plused and unaffected by her choice, or the sacrifice she had just made - the refusal of knowledge, all for them. She’d never felt so disappointed. Here was the proof. He would always put reaching the Unity ahead of their lives together.

That was the moment when she realised she could jump, jump and find him again. But a new Sam, a different Sam and do it right this time. Perhaps this Sam belonged to her, one that cared.

And he did, the second time around, oh how he cared. Probably too much. But now Trix was Starborn, and Sam would never understand, not unless he jumped and left her. One day, she was sure that he would. Curiosity would get the better of him, and one day, whether she jumped or he did, she would lose this Sam too.

She couldn’t bear it. The thought was too much. So she jumped on what would have been their wedding night.

And now, Starborn, several times over, she was about to jump again. Only for the first time in a long time, the Emissary had sounded like Sam. All the old feelings were bubbling to the surface. She just had to hold it all together, just this one last time.

Trix was busy emptying all the crap out of her pockets when this Emissary, the one with Sam’s voice, half-ran over to her position and startled her.

Her hands fumbled in her pockets and she dropped a key.

The Lodge Key.

It was a key like all others, but instantly recognisable to those who knew.

Trix paused, the Emissary stared for a moment down at the key. A sharp audible breath left their helmet.

Trix couldn’t stand it any more. Having become accustomed to always wearing her own Starborn suit, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she removed her helmet and looked at him. Looking for something, anything that would tell her that this is the man she knew.

The Emissary groaned, “You have no idea how long I have waited to see that look in your eyes, Trix. Jumping from one universe to the next hoping that this time… I don’t know if it’s you, I mean, my you. But…” He took his helmet off and dropped it. His face was thin, his hair and beard short and streaked with grey. His blue eyes, ringed dark with age and time, were full of tears. He held out his arms to her, “close enough!”

Trix flew into his embrace and they kissed so fiercely, ike it was the last thing they would do in this life.

There it was, the thing that had been missing for so long. The feeling she had searched for, and it wasn’t through the Unity. It was right here in front of her. They had seen and heard each other. It had caused that pull, the undeniable attraction, from which neither could escape. That divine rush of endorphins as they gave into it, the need to touch, feel, hold and taste him, and to feel that same need in return. That was what she had been looking for all along.

Her heart sang with pure joy.

Andreja caught up with the pair, and stood awkwardly off to one side, “Umm, okaaay. So… we’re kissing the Emissary now. And oh, hey Sam, good to see you, I guess… I’ll er… be just over here if you need me.”

#Sunday snippet #starfield #starfield fanfiction #sam coe #coemancer #a cosmic writes #the coemancer crew #💜✨

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