i will write reader x character, character x character, & au stuff
i will write polyamorous couples
i’ll write platonic & romantic stuff! i think both forms of love are equally important
when requesting character x reader, if no pronouns are given for reader i’ll assume they/them
if you could give as much info about the reader/scenario as you can that would be appreciated
i will write stuff centred around mental health as long as it’s not glorified or romanticised
Info
i am very socially anxious so i will not reply to dms sorry
if i’m writing something that is triggering for you & haven’t tagged it, first of all, i’m so sorry! secondly, if you could tell me so that i can correct my mistake, it would be very much appreciated
i love hurt/comfort & fluff. i also will do my best at humour, but i don’t always hit the mark — sorry about that
AO3 Comments are SO SO SOOOOOOO important because you can only leave Kudos ONCE. You add to the hit count ONCE (every 24 hours).
So whenever someone updates their fic, the ONLY way an author knows who their regular readers are is if they comment on each chapter. And we WANT to know who's still reading.
Believe it or not, some of us think about the name that pops up constantly in the comments and go "omg I can't wait to see what they think of THIS SPECIFIC SCENE cuz I KNOW they'll say something about it!!!"
just read the virgin suicides for the first time and I want to reach in and STRANGLE those boys I want to beat them over the head repeatedly and violently
so I’m pretty clearly not writing anymore, at least not on here. All my focus is on my ao3 work right now. Whether or not that will change, who knows. But, y’know, I’m still here if you guys ever wanna drop by and say hello (:
Hello there!! Would you be open to writing a fic with haley where she forces reader to fake date her so alex wouldn’t go after her? A little bit of angst but i just want my happy ending 💕
Could be gender neutral or female reader💕
Thank you -🐚
this… this has taken me months to write. all I can do is apologise & hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it
I also made a pinterest board for this fic
masterlists
—————
The fact that you’re there at the same time as them is an accident.
You hadn’t meant to leave the house late, but the cows were being needy, pushing their big heads into your chest for extra affection and knocking you into the shit and hay covered barn floor.
So there you were, on your way to the beach, trying not to stomp out your frustration about being late into the fresh summer grass. Haley and Alex stand together a little ways away from you.
Usually you don’t see them, rising with the sun as you do, and you’re glad of it; Alex is nice enough, if a bit arrogant, but the dirty looks and rude remarks about your occupation from the blonde rub you the wrong way. At least you have a job.
“Actually, I can’t go out with you,” You overhear her say, and you start to walk a little faster. You want nothing less than to get in the middle of their lovers spat. “Because I’m going out with Y/n.”
You come to a complete stop, your neck giving a little crack with the speed at which you turn to stare at the pair.
When Alex turns to look at you he appears gobsmacked; wide eyed and disbelieving. Your expression mirrors his.
He stares at you, eyes catching on the fraying material of your overalls, the less than stylish tear at the neck of your t-shirt, the mud and hay stuck to your knees and boots.
“Y/n?” he asks her, voice uncertain.
You don’t think to snap at him, or even get defensive about his judgement. You’re too shocked, unmoored by this strange turn of events in this unchanging little town.
Haley stands with her back straight, head held high. The summer sun makes an angel’s halo out of her perfect blonde hair. But you never prayed to Yoba, never followed his teachings, and so it doesn’t dazzle you, only annoys.
Haley, confident as ever, replies, “Yes. She’s my girlfriend. See you later Alex,” and then swoops over to you, linking her arm through yours and attempting to drag you off.
You’re strong now, though, no longer wasting away in an office. You chop down trees and lug about heavy tools all day, so when you plant your feet firmly Haley is forced to come to a stop, too.
“What the fuck?” you demand, all the countryside manners you learnt flying out the window in the face of whatever this is. You expect her to explain, to say this was all just a joke, maybe even blush at your bluntness.
You don’t expect her to whip around, angelic face contorted in frustration, and hiss at you to “move!” like her life is on the line if you don’t.
It shocks you into doing exactly as she asks, allowing her to lead you in no specific direction, almost tripping at the speed she’s going.
You decide that while she might have all day to partake in nonsense, you don’t, and so you not-so-gently redirect her toward the beach. The shells won’t sell for a lot, but it’ll be enough for you to live on while you wait for more plants to grow.
“Where are we going?” she huffs, hand digging into your bicep as it’s her turn to try not to fall.
“I was going to gather shells at the beach.”
“Ugh, we’re not doing that.” She tries to tug you the other way, but instead you let her arm slip out of yours, storming on toward the beach.
“I’m not stopping my whole day because you want to make your boyfriend jealous,” you snap, irritation building. Why did you have to get caught up in this? Why did you have to be late?
“He is not my boyfriend!” Haley protests, voice high, as she scurries after you. She glances over her shoulder when she catches up again, making sure that Alex is out of earshot.
You keep your gaze – really more of a glare at this point – straight ahead. You don’t care if he heard her. You don’t care for any of this petty drama. You definitely don’t care for being dragged into it.
You cross the bridge to the beach and begin shovelling all the shells you can reach into your backpack, sand and all. The blonde trails behind you as you move, just as content to ignore you as you are her, though still she doesn’t leave.
After a while you let out a sigh, standing up from your crouch to face her. “Why are you still here?”
She blinks big blue eyes at you, looking lost and gormless and unfairly beautiful.
“What do you want from me?” you elaborate, staring back at her, your own eyes probably dull and tired, mouth pulled into a frown.
“Well, you know how Alex is, like, a really great guy.” She says it likes it’s a fact. You’re not sure it is. You’ve hardly spoken to the guy.
“Sure.”
“Well, we’ve been friends for years – which is great! But…” she trails off, for once not the very picture of confidence. She looks unsure.
A big, not so secret part of you enjoys it, and so you let her hang for a few seconds before filling in for her, “He likes you.”
She scoffs, the sound grating on your nerves. “Duh! So now-”
“Skip to the part where I’m supposedly your girlfriend,” you snap, wiping your sandy hands on your already hay and mud covered overalls.
“Well,” she begins, eyeing your now even dirtier clothes with disgust, “I want to let him down easy-”
It’s your turn to scoff now. “Yoba. Just tell him you’re not interested!”
“I could do that. Or…” she stares, her eyes growing bigger as she pleads without words.
“No. No! What would I even get out of that? This is the stupidest-”
“I would break up with you at the end of the month!” Haley cuts in quickly. “It would just be long enough for him to get over me… please.” She lowers her voice, as if letting you in on a secret. “I don’t want to hurt him or, like, mess up our friendship.”
You press your lips together. Stare at her hard. “You still haven’t answered me. What am I getting out of this?”
She perks up immediately, face brighter than the sun. “The pleasure of my company.”
You think about saying no, or telling her to fuck off, but there’s no point. You look at her and can tell that she knows she’s already won.
“First of all, you’re going to help me with my work. It’ll make it more believable if we’re together during the days. Also,” you say loudly, before she can interrupt, “I’ll be the one to break up with you.”
You spend the rest of the day arguing.
----------
That day spent with Haley on the beach is a good indicator for what you’re in for.
The first week is spent swinging rapidly between scathing arguments and tense silence.
On the first morning she turns up late to your door, and when you have her help you move some rocks around she spends the whole time complaining about anything and everything – the summer heat, the grass tickling her legs, how heavy the rocks are.
When it comes time to eat lunch, you straighten up and walk into your house without a word, slamming the door behind you.
“Where are you going?” she huffs from outside, calling through the open window.
“It’s lunch time,” you shout back, “come back in an hour.”
She storms off in a huff. When she comes back she brings her camera with her, and she refuses to do anything but stand around and take pictures. You don’t bother to argue.
The tense silence that ensues over the next few days is only mildly better than the arguing, but at least you can get through your work uninterrupted, the only sound between you being Haley’s camera shuttering as she takes photos.
The silence is broken later on in the week quite spectacularly.
You’ll never forget the thunk, squelch sound her backside made when hitting the mud below after a rainy night.
Originally you’d spun around, dropping the basket of mushrooms to rush over to her. “Are you alright?” you demand, trying to inspect her ankles and legs for injuries.
She bats you away, as expected, and then laughs loudly, which was much less expected.
You concern flatlines and then picks back up as annoyance. “Surely getting a bit of mud on your clothes hasn’t sent you into a breakdown.”
She stops laughing and looks up at you, her frowning face splattered with mud. “I wouldn’t wear nice clothes to a farm. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. Even if I did, I could just wash them. It’s not a big deal.” Then she rolls her eyes, pushing herself up and out of the dirt.
You frown back at her. “Oh? I thought you were little miss fashion.”
Her big blue eyes narrow. “You’re seriously making fun of me for caring about how I look?” she lets out that familiar, grating scoff. “At least I’m not just some dirty farmer.”
With that she storms off, fists clenched at her sides.
You go back to your basket of mushrooms and continue picking them angrily for a while, fuelled by your unnecessary hurt over her comment.
As time goes by and the sun stars to set Haley still doesn’t come back. The anger slowly morphs into guilt. Just because you don’t care how you look doesn’t mean it’s wrong for others to. It doesn’t make you special or better than other people. You shouldn’t have said what you did.
Haley doesn’t come back that night, but she does turn up the next day, late as usual.
You don’t apologise, but relief takes a weight off your shoulders, and you smile and hand her a cup of coffee to start off the day.
----------
“You should probably just stay home today,” you tell Haley sometime during the second week. “I’m going to be chopping down trees. Wouldn’t want one to hit you by accident.”
She rolls her eyes at your dry tone but follows you anyway as you go retrieve your axe from the shed.
“What are you chopping down trees for?” she asks as you unlock the door.
“Wood.” You nudge the stiff door open and grab your axe, shiny and new and covered in cobwebs because your shed is horrible. You glance at Haley, hovering at the door and eyeing the webs with disgust. “Want to give me a hand?”
“Absolutely not,” she sneers, backing up warily.
You chuckle and kick the shed door closed behind you.
“You’ll have to stand a fair bit away,” you explain in Cindersap Forest, patting the fat trunk of the spruce tree affectionately. “If this big guy falls on you you’ll be a goner.”
“You’re seriously going to chop it down with just an axe?” she asks doubtfully, even as she back up as instructed.
You shrug. “Yeah.” And then you start swinging.
“Wow, you’re so strong,” she says, shocked.
You chuckle again, not looking away as you continue swinging at the tree. You miss the way her eyes light up, her lips parting just a little, pink blooming across her cheeks.
Haley doesn’t speak again while you work. She doesn’t even move. She just stands, watching, completely mesmerised.
It’s only when you finally take your break, dropping your axe and stretching out your aching muscles, that you catch what you assume to be surprise in her expression.
You laugh as you drop down to the ground, swiping the sweat from your forehead and taking your lunch from your backpack. “It’s not that impressive.”
She scoffs as she joins you on the grass, pulling her own lunch out of her bag. “You just cut down a bunch of huge trees with just an axe.”
“That is generally how it’s done.” You pour a little of your water over your head, feeling the cold drip down your sore, sweaty back and soak the front of your shirt. You let out a happy groan at the cool relief.
Haley ducks her head to busy herself with unwraping her sandwiches. “You’re stronger than I expected, is all,” she murmurs into the bread.
You snort. “I wasn’t always strong.”
She looks up at you through her thick lashes. You almost laugh at how red the sun has made her. “You weren’t?”
“Nope. I had an office job in the city, if you’ll believe it.”
Her perfectly shaped brows shoot upward. “No way.”
“Yes way,” you snicker, popping a strawberry in your mouth. “It was so boring. All I did was waste away in a cubicle. Didn’t even know how to plant a seed. And guess what!”
“What?” she asks eagerly, leaning toward you, her big blue eyes completely focused on you.
You lean forward too, and then, like you’re sharing a secret, you tell her, “It was a Joja job.”
She gives a horrified gasp. “No!”
“Yes!” you laugh, leaning back again to rest on your elbows. “It was awful!”
Haley laughs too, shaking her head, blonde curls caressing the pink skin of her cheeks. “It sounds awful. How did you stand that?”
“I didn’t.” You gesture to the wood you’d gathered, shrugging. “I packed up my apartment and came to live here. Just hope my Grandpa is proud of what I’ve done with the place. Not that he could do anything if he isn’t,” you joke.
She doesn’t say anything to that. The fact that you’ve both been sat here, having a nice conversation, laughing together catches up with you. It hits you all at once, the shock of it. How pleasant this feels.
You go to speak, maybe to bring the subject back to a lighter topic, something that’s not your dead Grandpa, when Haley beats you to it.
She stretches out a freckled arm, showing off a pretty bracelet you’d noticed before only in passing. “I got this from my grandmother. She used to take these, like, gorgeous photos. Honestly beautiful. If I could capture even a fraction of that beauty in my pictures I’d be happy.” And then, like it’s a confession, she tells you, “I hope that she’s proud of me, too.”
You don’t speak for a moment, giving her confession the thought it deserves. You see for the first time that her eyes aren’t just blue; there’s a tiny ring of hazel around her pupil, like autumn leaves and honey.
Finally, you ask, “do you think I could see your photos some time? I’ve watched you take so many, but I’ve never actually seen them.”
It’s not a faint pink that blooms across her face this time, but a bright, burning red. “They’re, uh, private,” she coughs, clutching the camera around her neck to her chest.
“Maybe one day,” you smile, a genuine one, and then climb back to your aching feet, bringing your axe with you. “For now, I’ve got more trees to chop down.”
As you work you hear Haley’s camera shutters going off regularly. You smile through the sweat and muscle strain, thinking of what beauty she must be capturing out here in the forest.
You don’t notice that most of the time the camera is focused on you.
----------
“You should start walking me home,” Haley says in the middle of the third week. “Y’know, to make this more believable.”
You frown, concentrating on not treading on any wild flowers as you guide her through the darkness that’s set over your farm. “I thought Alex had backed off?”
“He has, but he’s not the only one we need to convince.”
“Marnie asked me if I’d be wearing a suit or a dress to our wedding just yesterday. I think people are convinced,” you say dryly, cringing at the memory of the conversation.
Haley snorts, a surprising sound coming from her. Before you can rib on her for it she stumbles. You reach out without thought, steadying her with a hand on her arm.
“Are you alright?” you ask, concerned.
“Yeah,” she says, blinking at where your hand rests warm and firm on her bicep.
You jerk it away a little too quickly and keep walking. You determinedly do not think about how smooth and soft her skin is under your callouses.
“I still think you should walk me home,” she sing-songs, recovering faster than you.
“Haley, I can’t,” you groan. “It’s already late, and I have to be up early to feed the cows, and they always want me to stay longer for pets-”
“What?!” You startle, almost reaching out to her again in alarm, when she continues, “you have cows? Why have I never met them before? Oh, do they have names? Oh Yoba, I have to meet them, I didn’t know you had cows! Please, can I come see them tomorrow?”
You blink at her, a bit bewildered. “Are you sure? It’ll be really early in the morning-”
“Yes, I’m sure!” she squeals, a sound that once grated on your nerves now making you smile. “Thank you so much!” she squeaks, and then she’s throwing her arms around you, squeezing you tight, shocking the both of you.
She freezes, and then slowly unravels herself from you “Wow, uh, sorry. I got over excited, ha.”
“It’s okay,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. You’re sure your ears are burning. You’re not sure why. “Um, goodnight.”
“Yeah, goodnight,” she returns, just as awkwardly.
You watch her turn and walk away, feeling your face become warmer in the cool breeze of the night, and wonder why.
The next morning arrives earlier than you’d like with a pounding on your door that could only be a SWAT team.
You stumble out of bed, your covers making it halfway out your bedroom with you before finally untangling from your legs, and swing the door open.
Haley blinks her big blue eyes at you slowly. “Morning…”
You make an unintelligible noise and walk back into your room, leaving the front door open for her to enter.
“Nice pyjamas,” she calls to you, joking but with a nervous quality to her voice.
You glance down at your shorts and sports bra, make a far more embarrassed unintelligible noise, and slam your bedroom door shut.
You return moments later, dressed but still half asleep, and start making breakfast in your little makeshift kitchen.
You manoeuvre around Haley, who’s perched herself on your kitchen counter, wordlessly, sleep still clinging to you and making your eyes droop.
“To be fair, you didn’t tell me how early I should come over. You just said early.”
You look up at her smiling face, brighter than the barely risen sun outside, and can’t find it within yourself to be even slightly annoyed. You just make another guttural groaning sound and start to serve up the eggs onto two plates.
Haley lets out a giggle, hopping down from the counter to follow you to the rickety little dining table. “You’re not a morning person, but you work on a farm?”
“I’m a morning person,” you finally speak, your voice low and raspy from sleep. “I’m just not a five in the morning person.”
“Sorry,” she grins, not sounding sorry at all.
You shove the plates in the sink when you finish eating, gather all the necessary equipment and then start walking toward the barn. The closer you get the more excited Haley becomes, skipping around you in circles, golden curls bouncing about her shoulders, framing her beaming face beautifully.
You find yourself smiling back, listening to her ramble about cows and how much she loves them and how Marnie never lets her feed hers.
You only interrupt when you’re at the barn, asking her with a grin, “Are you ready to meet the ladies?”
She nods rapidly, eyes big and eager, only growing wider when you swing the doors open.
“Hello ladies!” you coo back at the symphony of moos that greet you, giving soft pats to the cows you pass on your way to get to the back of the barn.
You glance over your shoulder to find Haley, still stood at the entrance, a look of wonder in her eyes as one of the cows, Betty, lets her stroke a gentle hand over her head.
Your lips curl up in a smile without your permission, but you don’t bother to suppress it when you call out, “You coming?”
She looks at you, pinning you with that awed stare, before nodding and slowly coming toward you. As she walks she pats the cows, so very gently, looking amazed every time they let her.
“The food goes here,” you explain, “so just tip the bag until it’s empty, okay?”
She doesn’t respond, so you look over at her to make sure she’s paying attention. She isn’t. Betty has followed her over, pressing her big face into Haley’s outstretched palm, mooing happily.
You laugh quietly, fondness welling up in you. “You’re going to spoil her.”
“She’s so cute,” Haley whispers back, still looking at the cow.
“Here,” you pass the feed bag to her, “Pour it out and they’ll all come over.”
She does so eagerly, under your careful instruction, letting out a tiny squeal as all your cows start to make their way over for the food.
She lifts her camera from round her neck, taking pictures and watching the cows as you watch her, both of you smiling joyously.
“These will look great when they’re developed,” she murmurs to herself.
Your brows lift in surprise. “You have a dark room?”
“Yeah…” she looks at you, almost shy, and says, “maybe I can show you one day?”
You smile back, just as shy, and admit, “I’d love that.”
----------
It’s nearing the end of the month, and all you can think about is how soon things will be different.
The plan is to have a messy, public breakup in the Saloon, so that everybody will hear, and those that don’t will find out through gossip. Neither of you will have to do the awkward we broke up explanation, because everyone will already know.
Everything is about to change. You’re just not sure you want it to.
“Maybe we can stay friends after our breakup,” you joke to Haley, just a little hopeful.
“Yeah…” she gives you a delicate smile, sincere and genuine. “I’d love that.”
But you don’t want to be friends with her. After all the time you’ve spent together, after getting to know her – the real her, not the person you thought she was – you want to be her girlfriend.
The end of the week comes sooner than you’d like. It finds you and Haley sat at the bar in the Stardrop Saloon, surrounded by most of the town.
You send her an unsure look. She nods at you, a strange look in her eye you decide to take as grim determination.
It begins.
“Couldn’t you dress nicer when you’re not working?” she asks, a little bit of a whine in her overly loud voice.
“I always dress like this.” You try to frown at her, gesturing to your mostly clean overalls. “I like dressing like this.”
She follows your gesture with her eyes, lips pursed. “You could at least make an effort.”
She’s too good at this. Too good at casual disdain. You remind yourself that this is for show. She’s putting on a performance; a play for those around you. You need to amp it up a little if this is to be believable.
(You don’t want it to be believable. You want to go back to picking mushrooms with her in the woods and sharing sweet smiles and laughing at each other’s jokes.)
“Everything I do is for you, Haley.” You raise your voice. “Maybe you should make an effort to appreciate the sacrifices I’ve made for us!”
People turn to stare at the commotion you’re making. Your face feels hot.
“Sacrifices?” she scoffs. “I’m the one who has to deal with you constantly working. I don’t even get to spend any real time with you!”
Unnamed feelings blaze up your chest and into your throat. You don’t acknowledge them.
You continue on, letting out a scoff of your own. “Yoba, you’re selfish. All you care about it you, you, you.”
Her pursed lips falter for a moment, wobbling, and then her face crumples into a pretty scowl. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice is shrill, but it doesn’t hide the hurt – the very real hurt, which you caused.
You need to end this. Now.
“No, I’m not. This is over.” The words come out rushed; quiet and vulnerable rather than harsh and cold. People are leaning back in their chairs in an effort to hear you.
You stand to leave, scrabbling through your purse for some coin to give poor Gus, who stands right behind the bar next to you both, looking bewildered and concerned. You speed toward the door as soon as you hand it over on numb legs, and you’re almost out when her derisive scoff freezes you.
“Fine! It’s not like you’re a proper farmer anyway!”
You almost turn to look, to examine her face, try to figure out why she would say that after your conversation in Cindersap. You think about the hurt in her voice after you called her selfish and you have your answer.
You can’t stay to tell her you didn’t mean it. You don’t want her to see the tears in your eyes.
You leave without looking back.
You don’t see the regret on her face, or her own teary eyes that watch the doors long after they close behind you.
----------
You throw yourself into your farm work over the next few days.
The cows have never been happier, and your plants have never grown so well. It’s not enough to bring you joy, or even make you smile, but the work does exhaust you so thoroughly that you can’t stay up at night thinking about her, and that’s what you call results.
You haven’t spoken to many people since it happened. They’re all too sympathetic. It makes it feel too real. More real than it already feels.
(You were never actually together, so why-)
Stop. Don’t think about it.
Your routine continues unbroken until, one evening, a knock on your door disturbs you from your sleep.
When you open it you’re honestly surprised to find Haley on the other side. She looks immaculate as usual. You look every bit the dirty farmer she probably thinks you are.
“I didn’t mean it,” she says immediately. “Any of it. I- I know it got too real. I was… hurt. So I hurt you back. It was wrong. The whole think. I- please just… look.” She shoves a folder into your arms.
You slip it open, numb and confused, to find pictures. Loads of them. All of you.
“You are a proper farmer. I don’t see you as- as some… failure. You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met. But! I don’t just see you as a farmer, I- I see you as-”
“Beautiful,” you breathe, eyes stuck on the photographs. “You made me look beautiful.”
“You are,” she says softly, placing a gentle hand on your wrist. “I didn’t make you look beautiful. You just are.”
The photos show you tending to the cows, a smile on your face. Chopping down trees, sweaty and determined. Picking flowers and mushrooms, calm and content. Eating lunch on your break, laughing and joyous in the afternoon sun.
You look like a real farmer. The kind your grandpa could be proud of.
Finally, you look at her with tears in your eyes. “I don’t want to be broken up.”
“Me neither,” she says, not like a confession, but like it’s inevitable. Like it would have always ended up this way.
“Do you… want to try this again? Properly?” you venture, hope swelling in your chest.
“Please,” she breathes, big blue eyes reflecting that hope back at you like they’re mirrors.
You take a deep breath and grasp her hand in yours, being gentle with her soft skin. “Haley, will you be my girlfriend?” you ask.
like, tbf i didn't put down that i had a disability on the application bc it was a non-issue at my old job that i had for a year so i didn't think it would be a problem and then i tried skateboarding for the first time in months and had a flare-up and so my managers didn't think that i could do my job but like. they didn't even ask me. they didn't take the time to ask questions about my problem or my cane or my abilities or anything. so that was fucking shitty but it's ok bc i'll never see them again but if i do, i'll just bite them.
now i have a job lined up at the end of the month as basically a live-in nanny for a week for a family friend???? idk why they thought to ask me but it's chill, i'll make a little money and it'll give me extra time to find somewhere new to work.
