#( ''haha these are going to be quick and short'' i said as i reblogged the meme. like a liar. )

[erabundus]

@momijiba &&. said... 📂 📂📂📂 !!!

after  awakening  from  his  coma,  scaramouche  had  to  relearn  how  to  move  independently  of  his  own  will.  he  wasn't  supposed  to  ever  leave  the  machine  again  —  and  the  manner  in  which  he  tore  himself  free  was  effectively  the  worst  possible  way  he  could  have  ever  gone  about  doing  it.  the  tubes  were  attached  to  his  vitals;  he  damaged  much  of  his  internal  mechanisms  to  such  an  extent  he  very  well  could  have  "bled"  to  "death."  (  frankly,  he's  fortunate  that  he  didn't.  )  it  wasn't  only  the  shock  of  detaching  from  the  robot  that  made  him  fall  into  a  coma;  it  was  his  body  putting  all  unnecessary  functions  on  standby  so  it  could  focus  everything  it  had  on  making  what  repairs  he  needed  to  continue  living.

when  he  regained  consciousness,  he  could  barely  move.  everything  was  numb  —  the  most  he  could  really  register  was  unpleasant waves  of pins  and  needles.  (  which  understandably  distressed  him  even  more,  as  someone  who  relies  so  heavily  on  touch.  )  eventually his capacity to feel returned. however, he  had  to  slowly  build  up  the  strength  to  do  literally  anything  —  and  even  when  he  finally  could  pilot  his  own  body,  he  needed  to  figure  out  how  to  walk,  run,  jump,  everything  all  over  again.  he  doesn't  like  to  talk  about  it  because  it's  a  massive  blow  to  his  pride,  but  he  had  to  go  through some fairly strenuous  physical  therapy  to  make  a  complete  recovery. thanks nahida.

there  was  at  least  one  occasion  wherein  a  complete  stranger  thought  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  (  flirtatiously  )  grab  ren  by  the  waist  /  hips without permission  and  his  first  instinct  was  to  punch  them  in  the  face  so  hard  they  swallowed  their  front  teeth.  at  the  time,  all  he  could  really  think  to  do  was  awkwardly  speed  walk  away  —  but  in  hindsight  he  feels  it's  amusingly  well-deserved.

and  speaking  of  ren  being  awkward ...  ren  is  very  awkward!  i  don't  know  if  i'm  able  to  properly  convey  just  how  off-putting  this  man's  vibes  are  in  any  given  social  situation.  it  probably  doesn't  come  through  as  clearly  in  threads  because  those  are  outliers  wherein  he's  forced  to  interact  with  other  people  by  design.  as  a  default,  he  just  perpetually  lurks  on  the  very  outskirts  of  any public  gathering.  (  the  "they  don't  know  [  insert  shitpost  here  ]"  meme  of  someone  standing  in  the  corner  at  a  party,  but  that's  just  ren  24/7.  )  mind,  he  isn't  necessarily  shy;  he  merely  possesses  absolutely  no  desire  whatsoever  to  interact  with  most  people.  if  you  try  to  make  eye  contact  with  him,  smile,  wave  and  so  on,  he  probably  won't  engage.  he  might  stare  at  you  a  little  —  don't  take  it  as  an  invitation  to  strike  up  a  conversation,  because  it  isn't. he's probably calling you names in his head. he's awkward, but he's not the glamorized cutesy kind of awkward. he's the weird guy who occasionally forgets to blink kind of awkward. if he wasn't small and relatively harmless looking, he would probably terrify a lot more people. scara certainly did.

he's  always  been  like  this,  too.  the  kabukimono  is  the  only  one  who  would  actively  put  forth  an  effort  to  interact  with  others  —  but  even  he  was  strange  and  unsettling  in  his  own  way.  scaramouche  and  ren  just  do  it  deliberately.

ren  is  actually  surprisingly  good  at  gambling  —  or  at  least,  what  aspects  of  it  are  skill  based.  luck  is  entirely  up  in  the  air  (  and  often  against  him,  all  things  considered  )  but  reading  other  people,  knowing  when  to  make  a  call,  weighing  probabilities  and  so  on  he  has  an  innate  proclivity  for.  he's  never  touched  genius  invokation,  but  if  you  tried  to  challenge  him  to  a  game  of  something  more  traditional  (  like  poker  )  there's  a  very  good  chance  he  will  destroy  you.

SEND 📂 FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part twelve

pairing: (hinted) kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: "action" i guess still netural

el's thoughts: this took wayy too long, i'm sorry haha but it's here! quick thank you to @jahayla-parker for helping me edit! i hope y'all like it! please remember to reblog and comment :)

masterlist

a/n: previously on the phoenix and the crow

She hummed, “We all do things for reasons only we know.” Twisting her fingers around each other, she sighed. “There are plenty of things I’ve done that if I had taken the time to actually think it through… I wouldn’t have made those choices, but in the end I’m standing here today and I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t made thoes choices. So, I wouldn’t change anything.”

“I wouldn’t-” Kaz was interrupted by Toyla shouting that they made it. Inej, Nina and Zoya all walked to one side, waiting for Y/N. 

The inferni gave Kaz a tight smile, “Well, I’m off.” She pulled her shoulders back as she walked to where the other girls stood waiting. 

Kaz watched in astonishment as the girl with whom he had just carried an intimate conversation with slipped back into the formal behavior that came with being a soldier. It was as if she had put back on a stoic and formal front, slipping back into her all too familiar mask. It was as if Y/N had only allowed herself a short break from such a pretense for those few private moments with him.

~*~

Each step was taken cautiously as the group of six walked through the Fold. Growls could be heard around them causing Y/N to check their surroundings every minute despite Alina encircling them in a shield of light.

“This is it. The heart of the Fold. Where Kirigan first damned this country into darkness.” Alina spoke as she stood beside Mal, a set of stone steps behind them like ruins of an old building. “I think this is where we stand a chance of bringing it down.” Mal shifted closer to her, ready to draw his knife. She placed her hands over his and refused. “No. We can do this.” Alina lifted* her right hand and motioned for Mal to hold it. 

Bewilderment washed over Y/N all at once when she saw the bright red light flow through the sun summoner’s veins. “He’s the firebird.”

Flares of blue and red light seeped out of Alina in powerful waves. The red spiraled around the couple and flew all over the place encompassing them like a forest fire. 

The other four women stood to the side and watched in awe. “It’s beautiful.” Nina’s breath caught in her throat as she spoke. Zoya and Y/N reached for the heartrender’s hands as Inej said her prayers of worship in silence. The inferni’s amazement* was cut short when she felt another presence. She felt as if all the air had left her lungs as she turned to Zoya. “He’s here.”

“How touching.” The Darkling strode through Alina and Mal’s shield of light with his hands clasped and extended outwards before him. The black scars on his face were impossible to miss as Y/N stared him down from where she stood while holding her ground. 

Alina let go of Mal, the red light instantly fading away. 

“I almost feel bad for what I have to do now.” Kirigan said as he walked closer. “He is family after all.” He spat his words as if they were the vilest concept. The summoner threw a glance at the tracker before diverting her attention back to the Darkling. 

“Get down!” Mal shouted. 

Y/N’s attention was pulled toward where Mal stood with his gun drawn. She ducked down just in time to dodge the bullet meant for the nichovoya. 

The Darkling drew his hands together, summoning the Cut. Alina quickly copied, both summoners aiming for the other. Their slices hit one another with such force they nearly canceled out each other’s power. Fortunately, Alina had used slightly more force and a piece struck Aleksander’s side. He flew back and landed hard on his back with a groan. Alina grinned with pride as she watched Kirigan squirm in pain.

“I’m hit.” His voice was strained while he spoke. 

“Mal.” The sun summoner rushed to his side and in a flurry of panic, the light shield fell leaving everyone vulnerable to the monsters that are local to the Fold. Right before the four girls could run to Alina and Mal, Nina was snatched by the nichovoya.

“Nina.” Dread formed in Y/N’s bones despite the roaring rage in her chest. “Nina!” Inej and Zoya turned and looked around desperately for the heartrender. The three of them moved to stand back to back, circling each other protectively. 

“Stay with me.” Alina’s voice cried out over the rushing of blood in their ears. “Stay with me!”

With a glance thrown quickly to Zoya, Y/N ran over to where Alina was bent over Mal’s body. She fell to her knees next to them as Mal drew his knife and handed it to the crying girl. 

“I can’t.” Alina cried. 

“Make them redraw all the maps.”

Y/N looked away from the couple while she felt her emotions bubble over. 

The Darkling was once again adding another theft to his long list of stolen lives and other cherished belongings of the innocent girls he’d tormented. Genya, Zoya, Y/N, and Alina. Just another thing he got to ruin with his blood-stained hands. Convincing each girl of his feelings and intentions while he utilizes them as if they were pawns in a chess game. Sacrificing each of them for more power. 

“I love you.” Alina said, her voice cracking from her tears.

“You know where to find me.”

Alina nodded, taking a deep breath before she plunged the knife through Mal’s chest. Instant regret and pain washed over her as she threw her head back and screamed. Her arm flew up over her head, as she channeled every last ounce of her power towards the sky, towards destroying the Fold. 

Y/N watched the scene unfold with wide eyes before standing and running towards the two suli girls as the Fold vanished*. The now blue sky above them felt like a breath of fresh air, before they noticed the nichovoya spawning around them. They all shared a look and nodded. 

Zoya twisted the wind between her hands, shoving the shadow monsters forward so Inej could use the Neshyenyer through the shadows. Y/N helped herd them with small flames. The squaller was thrown to the side by a long hand of shadow while Inej kept fighting the shadow monsters. 

Alina’s voice could be heard calling Nina while she still leaned over Mal. 

Once Inej sliced through the last shadow monster* all three grisha women rushed to the sun summoner’s side. Nina instantly started her attempts to revive the tracker.

Y/N rose to her feet when she noticed Kirgian standing. 

“Now… You know sacrifice.”

The inferni scoffed, “Beyond anything you’ve ever known.” She spoke on behalf of the grieving summoner. “And look what it did.” She gestured around them.

“Indeed.” The Darkling nodded, “Look what it did.” He tore his eyes away from her to the lifeless body on the stone steps. 

A fresh wave of tears washed over Alina as she stood slightly behind the inferni, “Mal and I changed the world. We tore down your Shadow Fold.”

“You have my sympathies for what comes next. When you realize that what you’ve done solves nothing. The world doesn’t need a Saint to protect it, Alina.” He took a step forward, “It needs a monster. And while I remain-” His words fell off into a coughing fit, his breath more labored. “Let me be your monster.” 

Y/N stepped forward but Alina held her back. “You think that after everything, I’ll still stand by you?”

“There is no light without darkness. Without me, you have no counter, no balance. Let me carry the hatred of this world.”

“Hatred.” Alina scoffed*, “Because of the choices you made.”

“Choices you too will make… in time.”

“I will never walk your path.” 

“I know you believe that now…” He groaned as he stepped forward again, “But look at Y/N.” The inferni stiffed at the mention of her name. “She’s already had to make some choices. Haven’t you?” She looked away as shame crept up on her. 

“Soon the both of you will have no equal. The years spent alone will grind you down, they will harden you. And who will be there to shield you from it? Who will be there to save you?” Kirigan reached his hand to Alina’s face but she reacted quicker. Grabbing his wrist first, “I will save myself. Your legacy is already written. There is no redemption.” She shoved his hand away from her causing him to fall to his knees. 

A loud gasp escaped his lips as his shadows shifted and formed. The sun summoner backed up as the shadow monster walked towards her. Y/N shoved Alina out of the way when she saw the claw-like hand reach for her. The monster grasped the inferni by her neck, lifting her off her feet into the air. Kirigan tried to lunge forward, “Leave her alone! No!” He was quickly shoved to the ground. 

“Y/N!” Inej shouted and threw the Neshyenyer right under the grisha’s arm embedding itself within the monster causing it to go up in flames. 

The Darkling rose to his feet while Y/N gasped for air. “You can’t control them, can you? You can’t control any of it.” 

He extended his hand to her, “I thought I could control it all once. Find peace. And for a moment, I swear I did.” He closed his eyes as if he was taken back to his memories.

Y/N rose* to her feet with the blade in hand and took a deep breath through her nose. She raised the sword and plunged it into the Darkling, just below his ribs. His eyes shot wide open, “Without me, know they will come for you.”

“I’m… I’m a monster.” Y/N shuddered at the thought while she stared down at her hands. Kirigan came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Possibly, but as long as I’m around they will never know.”

The inferni gritted her teeth, “Let them come.” She pulled the sword out and let his body fall to the sand beneath them. 

Alina walked to stand above him, blocking the sun from his eyes. 

“Alina… you make sure there is nothing left of me. Please.” He choked on his breath, “Please.”

Y/N turned around and walked to where Nina knelt beside Mal’s body. Y/N turned briefly and made eye contact with Zoya, only exchanging a silent nod. 

After no response from Mal’s body a dark look flashed in Alina’s eyes. Y/N noticed and spoke, “Think through your actions, Alina. Once done, you can’t reverse them.” The sun summoner ignored all caution and proceeded anyway, bringing Mal back to life with a loud gasp.

Y/N walked away to stand next to Zoya. 

“What do we do with him?” The squaller asked.

“Will you wait with him until we return? I don’t want any heretics to find the body and make a martyr’s relic of it.” Alina said. “We’ll burn him where he fell. We’re on the other side of this now. There’s no turning back.”

~*~*~*~

taglist:@rachelcarroll1819 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @khaleesihavilliard @simrah1012 @foulkryptonitepeanut @astridyoo15 @queenofshinigamis @peakyispunk @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @winstonthecow22 @lee-says-things @bunneex @writingmysanity @sleepynightchild @madnessinwrighting @romanticvampire

[starcursedluvrs]

doomsday teaser

actor!gojo x techie!geto AU :)

hey y'all! thank you for all the love on Talk, I really appreciate every single like, comment, and reblog. i've started part II, and it should be out within 2 or 3 weeks (i'm a busy lady sorry). in a mean time, here's a little bite of another fic i wrote/am still working on. it's a techie!geto x actor!gojo AU where suguru is a wardrobe crew head for a hit broadway musical, and satoru is the star. this one is for all the former (and current) theater kids (kids as in people above the age of 18, MDNI!). there will be lots of smut and angst and plot to come, but for now, plz enjoy <3

wc: 845

With that, Suguru took a deep sigh and finished walking down the narrow hallway. His shoes squeaked considerably less as he climbed the winding iron staircase up to the cast’s personal dressing rooms. When he got to the top, he was distracted by a white-haired man violently shaking the vending machines in an attempt to release a chocolate bar from its clutches.  

Then he saw those eyes. 

Those beautiful, bright blue eyes. They looked like they contained the entire sky.

Suguru started sorting through color theory in his head to think about which piece of fabric would go best with those brilliant irises. 

“Do, uh. Do you need some help there, doll?” Suguru offered, flustered. 

The man just stared back at Suguru for a moment, before responding, “Sure, crazy bangs. That would be great.” 

“Not sure crazy bangs is such a great comeback from someone who’s attacking a vending machine,” Suguru bantered back. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault my boss man loves chocolate. Gotta stock up for him.”

“Oh, are you Mr. Gojo’s manager?”

“Never thought about it like that. Huh. Guess I am.” 

“Will I see you around then?”

“I guess you could say that, crazy bangs,” the white-haired man said with a smirk. 

A tense moment passed as the two men locked eyes. The mysterious blue-eyed beauty scanned Suguru’s body up and down with no shame. Suguru should have felt self-conscious, but he found himself oddly endeared by the man in front of him. Suguru felt a slight blush prickle over the skin of his cheeks.  

“So when is Mr. Gojo arriving?” Suguru asserted to break the silence. “I have some things I wanted to run over with him in terms of quick changes.” 

“So. You’re costumes?” 

“Yeah.” Suguru answered. Did he say the wrong thing? 

“Makes sense.” The lengthy white haired man smirked and turned on the ball of his foot and started walking - no, sashaying - to the door of Mr. Gojo’s dressing room. As the man opened the door, Suguru caught it behind him. 

“Why does it make sense, doll?” Suguru allowed a soft smile to appear on his lips. For the first time in a while, Suguru was flirting. 

And he was having fun. 

“Because. You’re so serious. You costume and props people always have sticks up your asses.” The man retorted with a snort. 

Suguru rolled his eyes, a verbal bite lingering on his words, “We’re just trying to do our jobs.” 

Even though the blue-eyed stranger was  taller, Suguru seemed to tower over him at that moment. 

“Well, I’m just trying to do mine.” Suguru couldn’t tell if this guy was a douche or if he was also flirting back. He hoped for his sake, it was the ladder. Unfortunately, he also had a job to do. No matter, he still had time to get to know this attractive stranger.

“Great. So, do you have an ETA on your client?” 

“Client? What client?” The man looked so confused. 

“…Mr. Gojo…” 

“Oh, we’re still playing that game.” 

“What game?” 

“You seriously don’t know who I am?” 

“You’re Mr. Gojo’s manager.” Suguru stated. 

The white haired man burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. It took a second for him to collect himself.

“Hot and funny. I’m keeping you around, crazy bangs.”

Suguru’s brain short circuited at that. Attractive stranger also finds him attractive. Noted.

“Haha,” Suguru offered a weak, uncomfortable laugh,”Not that I wouldn’t want that too, but I really have a job to do, doll.” 

Those blue eyes blinked in disbelief. 

“Wow. You’re serious, ok. Let’s start over.”

The man stuck out his hand, which looked as if it was crafted of the finest porcelain.

“I’m Satoru Gojo. It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?”

Suguru looked at Satoru until it finally clicked in his head. So this was the brat Nanami was talking about. 

Suguru shook his hand hesitantly, as another question crossed his mind. “You said you were Gojo’s manager though,” Suguru pointed out.

“You’re putting words in my mouth, I said I had never thought of it that way. I guess I am kind of like my own manager because I don’t have one. I manage myself, thank you very much,” Satoru turned his nose and dramatically looked away from Suguru.

“But… who’s boss man?” 

“Oh that’s what I call Nanami. I asked him what his favorite candy was and I’m stocking up on it so that every time I annoy him, I can apologize with a chocolate bar.” 

A deep rumble left Suguru’s chest as he laughed at Satoru’s comment.

“I’m sure Nanami loves being called boss man.” 

“Oh please, he’ll grow into the nickname. Didn’t get your name yet though, crazy bangs.”

“Suguru Geto. Wardrobe Crew Head.” 

“If I see you around later, maybe I can show you how it feels to have something other than a stick up your ass.”

Banners by @bunnysrph

[wingedecho]

New Narrator?!

okay for those of you following me (I appreciate you guys sm) who know of my main Narrator, don't worry I'm keeping Henry, this is just more of a side project because I love villain narrators

That being said, this is Cross. A highly intelligent, highly egotistical BASTAR-

I mean uh evil man

His backstory/origin will be posted eventually when I can be bothered to write it all up but in the meantime I'll give you a short rundown (hey future me here it's a lot longer than intended haha oops) of who exactly he is and what his deal is, if you can't be bothered to read all of this rambling that I'm typing I am so sorry I am just kind of brainrotting a lot right now and I was supposed to post this yesterday and I forgot

Alrighty so:

Cross is unfortunately a good actor. He's cunning, sly, manipulative and overall he does not care what anyone thinks of him so long as he gets what he wants. However, with simple acting, he can conceal all of this and come off as the sweetest person you've ever met, despite the many ways he's thinking of to kill you while he tells you just how 'great' he thinks you are. Stanley sees him as what he pretends he is. He's unaware of the shit he's in.

Cross prefers people to not know his name, getting Stanley to call him X to keep his mysterious act up. Cross doesn't have an office to write his stories, despite having one backstage for other uses. He has a theatre. A huge, huge theatre where he demonstrates his acting to the shadowy figures that were once people he totally did not murder in a totally not extremely brutal way

His scripts go into shows, and the shows become the story. Whatever Cross does in the theatre, is however things are formed in the parable

He has some levels of necromancy, and also has the ability to create spikes made of citrine. When he's in a calm state the citrine is clear. When angered, the citrine appears cracked.

Another important thing is the shadow over his eye. Its not an art style, it's a design choice. He's hiding something under there, but I'm not revealing that just yet, and the only person who knows doesn't know how bad it is because there's one thing I haven't told them (you know who you are)

Anywho, yeah! Hope this wasn't too much to read, and I hope I didn't bore you, but thank you for reading if you made it to the bottom and I hope you guys like him!

P.S he is 7'2 okay bYE

Quick edit: I forgot to mention, he has black gloves with gold claws on them I just really can't draw hands hel, he also has big black boots (just putting this here because I saw a reblog of someone saying they wanted to draw him and TYSM GENUINELY)

[intrepidacious]

hi! ok I just wanted to ask someone who knows how tumblr works haha

so I found someone who writes amazing content so I decided to follow them. I binged lots of their fics earlier today and when I checked their profile again later, their profile doesn’t show. It seems they might have blocked me and I don’t know why :( I commented that I loved their fics and the comments are removed. my profile has my age and I am decently active on reposting & commenting on fics. This happened to me one other time too so I just am confused I guess :( I tried to message them but it said it wouldn’t go through so that makes me think I’m blocked? I guess I don’t know why a couple people blocked me? Just kinda made me sad bc I really enjoy their work but now I won’t be able to see anymore ☹️😢

happy to!! 💛

first thing you gotta remember that in all likelihood, your getting blocked is nothing personal. reasons for blocking someone on tumblr include but aren't limited to:

you don't have your age (range) listed in your bio/clearly visible on your blog

the age you have listed doesn't adhere to boundaries a blog has set (f.e. you're a minor, or it only says "18+" which i know many writers don't accept)

your blog is completely empty i.e. you don't post/reblog stuff

you don't reblog other people's writing

you spam like posts

you've never changed the default icon/header to something else

people don't vibe with the things you reblog

your theme is a colour they don't like

a lot of the time, it comes down to everyone's preferences. god knows i've been blocked by people and didn't understand why, but frankly it's none of my business. most likely, you won't ever find out, either. everyone is creating their own online space, and sometimes that means having a quick blocking finger. i'm sorry that you won't be able to read those stories anymore but you have to accept creators' boundaries.

however, there are some things you can do and try to prevent getting blocked in the future. these are only a couple of suggestions around tumblr etiquette i've picked up on over the years; if anyone else wants to chip in here, please do!!

1. make sure your blog is, by all appearances, that of a human being

this might sound stupid because of course, you are a human, but with the recent bot wars it's all the more important to double check for red flags.

check your url. does it include a random string of numbers, lots of dashes, just a name and an adjective? all of these have been indicative of porn bots and people might block you on sight.

change your icon and your header. yes, both of them. there are lots of creators on here who make wonderful fandom related headers and icons, or you can create your own with canva. just be sure to follow creators' rules and preferably reblog their creation

change your blog title. if your account is new, it will just say "untitled", which is another indication you might not be a human. use quotes, song lyrics, anything you enjoy

add a bio. this is where you put your name or nickname (you can make one up) age, age range, links to second blogs (if applicable), more quotes, whatever. i prefer my bio short and to the point, but that doesn't have to be you.

important: do this for all blogs and side blogs you use regularly. if you have a second blog for reblogging fics, you need to put up your age there as well, or at least visibly link to your main blog so creators can see you're not a minor. the harder it is to verify that you're an adult, the more likely it is that you will get blocked

2. know the different kinds of interactions on tumblr and navigate them well

there's a difference between liking, commenting, reblogging, and reposting, and it's important. lots of people use reblogging and reposting interchangeably, but that's actually incorrect and can lead to serious mishaps. let's dissect them one by one.

liking.

you're familiar with the like from other social media platforms. you tap a post twice or hit the little heart at the bottom of the post and it's added to your likes. wonderful, right? well. tumblr is a little different.

tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. let me say that again. there is no algorithm on tumblr. i guess there is, on the for you page, but that doesn't count because it's really shit. the only important thing on tumblr is your dashboard, and your dashboard only shows original posts and the reblogs of those posts from people you follow.

no one cares about your likes. your likes don't do shit. that's why creatives on here keep talking about reblogs. you need to reblog things on tumblr in order for them to get seen. it's a snowballing effect. likes are nice and all, but they're private. they're not contributing to a story or an artwork being seen by more people. they're essentially empty interaction. what's more, should a post get deleted for whatever reason, that post is gone for you forever.

i know some people use their likes as bookmarks for things they want to look at later, but i would strongly urge you not to do that. people block serial likers, because most of the time it is, sadly, very unlikely that they will come back and actually interact with the post again. that's just the way it is. we can thank tiktok and instagram for that. again, tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. if you want to genuinely support and encourage people on here, you need to do more than liking.

commenting.

this is a step up from liking, because you're actually interacting now. a comment will show up in the activity of the person whose post you left it on and of the original poster (op)—more on that distinction in a minute. comments are encouraged especially on ask/answer type posts, or as a reply to an earlier reblog.

when it comes to fanfic, there are, again, pros and cons. you can only leave a comment from your main blog, which means that even if you have a second account where you reblog fics, there's not necessarily a link between the two. this can lead to your getting blocked if you've never reblogged a fic to your main blog. on the other hand, if people comment on your fic without reblogging it, but they do reblog other people's fics, that can also rub creators the wrong way because it creates a strange sort of hierarchy: why those fics? why not mine?

important thing to note: i am not saying that to make anyone feel bad about "just" commenting, i just want you to be aware that this might go on in a creator's head. it has in mine. i'm very aware that this is a me problem, but it's also a reason why people might get blocked out of the blue, which is why i wanted to bring it up.

reblogging.

ah yes, reblogging. reblogging is the thing that makes tumblr tumblr, and it's so easy to do. you just hit the little 🔁 symbol at the bottom of the post, and boom, it's reblogged to your own blog. everyone who follows you can now see it on their dashboard, and if they reblog it, their followers can see it, and so on and so forth. every time someone reblogs a post from you, you will get a notification in your activity, and so will the op.

reblogs are the heart and soul of tumblr. yes, original posts are (usually) individual creations, but the community aspect of this site is born through the reblog. there are different variations on how to reblog. all are valid, because all help spreading posts around.

the empty reblog is the quickest option. there's literally a quick reblog option on mobile: if you hold your finger on the reblog button for a second or so, you will see your icon appear. if you swipe in that direction, the post gets immediately reblogged to your blog. something similar can be done on desktop with the xkit browser extension. it's fast, it's easy, it gets the job done. it's perfect for when you like a post but don't have anything specific to say/reply.

the reblog with tags is the second fastest option. tags, on tumblr, are sort of the sotto voce version of comments. yes, you can use tagging to organise your blog and make your posts easily findable (is that a word?) but the real fun begins when little asides are added. you can keysmash in the tags. you can put your thoughts in the tags. you can go full caps without it looking overwhelming in the actual post. if you're just starting to comment on things, the tags are a great place to start, because the actual post will keep looking the same; the tags are just a little additional bonus for both you and the creator. this is what you would use for the majority of posts that aren't works of art in any way, too, like text posts you want to find again, polls, photographs etc.

the reblog with additions though? oh boy. that's the real stuff. imagine it as clipping on your thoughts to the post, right there for everyone to see. you can add gifs, and memes, and change the font, and change the colour, and scream, and keysmash, and ramble without limitations. it's like catnip for the op. if you reblog a fic, a moodboard, a piece of art, a gifset, whatever it is, and you put your thoughts underneath? man, it's amazing.

side note: if you're new to commenting on people's fics and you don't know what to say, i highly recommend referring to this post. (btw i linked my reblog so it can act as an example of the different forms of adding to a post: there were other reblogs before mine, and i've added tags. useful in its content and as an example!!)

reposting.

this is where we need to be careful. reblogs are great. reposts are theft. where's the difference? reposting refers to you copying another creator's work, whatever it may be, and creating a new post without any indication to the original person's efforts. even if you do include their url, you will most likely get reported and blocked. because now, you've become the op of this copied post, and the actual creator will get absolutely nothing.

you will most likely have seen banners in fic communities that state something along the lines of "don't copy or translate any of my work to this or any other site". that's what this refers to. this would also include the following:

posting another writer's story to ao3/wattpad/another fic site of your choice without their permission. you can absolutely never do this. "but what if"—NO. never. fullstop.

some creators allow translations of their work, but you can only ever share those with their explicit permission and proper credit.

saving a gif to use without linking back to the artist. this is maybe my biggest gripe. yes, i know this site sucks at making gifs searchable, but still, you can't do this. and no, "credit goes to the original artist" doesn't count, where did that bullshit even come from? it makes me so mad. that's not giving credit, that's being lazy.

3. be nice, and have fun

this is fandom, and it's supposed to be a hobby. this is supposed to be a good time. none of us are getting paid for any of this. yes, we're all passionate about what we do, whether we're looking at other people's creations or we make them ourselves. we're fans of that common thing, and isn't that great?

just a little more internet etiquette that's not really tumblr specific but could be a good reminder for everyone:

not everything is for you, and that's okay

if something's not for you, scroll away

if you don't like what someone is posting, ignore them. mute them. block them.

do not ever, and i mean ever, send anyone hate. you don't know who's on the other side of the screen. block them and move on. life's too fucking short.

don't correct people's grammar/spelling. only assholes do that. if you can't help yourself and they're a person you've interacted with before, shoot them a private message and be nice about it.

don't offer unsolicited advice. i don't care if you want to give constructive criticism to help the other person. unless they've explicitly asked you to do that, don't. you'll get blocked so quick, and you'll ruin someone's day.

if you're reading a fic that's not finished yet, don't ask for an update. yes, you're excited for the story to continue. but "part 2", "when's the next chapter out", "more please" and so on are all things that put pressure on creators whether that's your intention or not. it gives us the impression that what we've already put out is never enough. and that sucks. by all means, be excited about what comes next, but not like this.

read!! old!! fics!!!! the beauty of tumblr being the way it is is that there's zero shame in interacting with older posts. it's not like you're liking a seven year old post on instagram. in fact, if you're commenting on a seven year old fic/gifset/moodboard/artwork on tumblr, i can guarantee you're gonna make that creator's day.

i'm absolutely positive that i've forgotten something in this post even though it's longer than several of my wips, so if any of my moots want to add something that'd be great!! in fact i'm gonna tag some of you because you know what? if you've read all of this you deserve a kiss. have a wonderful day 💛

@marvelettesassemblenow @barnesafterglow @imaginearyparties @aphrogeneias @brandycranby @writing-for-marvel @foreverindreamlandd @sanguineterrain @demxters @wildlivelychild

[findroleplay]

Hey I just made a tumblr account like 20 mins ago haha, i came here specifically because I'd like to find a suitable RP partner but I'm not sure how to post an ask hehe, your guidance is appreciated <3

Sorry I didn't answer earlier! I clear ask from oldest to newest!

Anyway, this is an ask so congratulations on clearing the first hurlde of physically sending one!

As for what to post in said ask, there's a few different routes you can go. You can check out my pinned post (click on my icon/username and it will open my blog. The pinned post is the top one. If it doesn't show, refresh the page once). At the bottom it has a form you can use as a base, it has most relevant information that you'd include in an ask.

You can go free-form too, like most people. You're basically writing an advertisement for yourself as a partner. Just think of what you'd like to know about prospect partners. I'd suggest you at the least include fandom/fandomless, characters, age range and literacy. Also your discord if it's something you wanna share publicly.

Now, as for the technical bits, you can opt to keep your ask anonymous. You can toggle it when you are writing the ask. If you're anonymous (anon, for short) no one will be able to connect your blog to the ask. This also means you can't ask people to DM you directly, though. And tumblr won't send you a notification when your ad is posted so you need to check manually.

This takes me to another point. Unless you explicitly state you want to be contacted in a different way (DMs, added on discord if you put it in your ask) people that want to RP with will like the ask. This will NOT send you a notification and you need to periodically check yourself if someone liked it. I suggested bookmarking it by liking it, reblogging, sending it to yourself as a message with another blog, or saving it as a draft (you start reblogging but you choose the "save as a draft" option instead). You will get quick access to it that way. Then it's on you to DM the blogs that left a like.

Also quick tip for Tumblr newcomers. For the love of God customize your blog a little bit. Give it a name/description. Consider making a post. Change your icon and header. Tumblr has a problem with spam bots that look exactly like an empty blog so most people will block you on sight.

If this didn't answer your questions or if you have more questions about Tumblr-ing feel free to reach out again

[hisgoodgirl666]

Thoughts on the first half of 2010's "I Spit On Your Grave"?

Okay so here’s the over-sharing answer you probably didn’t want haha…

Force in porn or erotica or gifs or stuff like that is different for me than scenes in a regular movie like that. You might not expect it based on my blog lol but sexual assault in movies used to be a pretty hard limit for me since they’d make me panic. Yeah, human brain weird… In fact My First Panic Attack™ was when watching V/H/S when it was the scene of the guys pulling up the girl’s shirt (didn’t know what that movie was about going into it lol…). Anyway, it used to be kind of a big problem for me, despite what I like in fantasy. If it was a year or two ago, I don’t think I’d be able to handle even a portion of I Spit on Your Grave (which I hadn’t heard of until now actually).

However! My brain has chilled out with that more recently. I also used to not be able to handle much horror but suddenly can handle a lot more of that too lately. Idk what’s really made the difference lately. So with that, I did look up I Spit on Your Grave and I watched most of the extended scene. I would say it’s overall too much for something that would turn me on or be a movie I want to watch.  But like… I know I’ve seen gifs of that movie on tumblr, and I’ve reblogged them lol. And it definitely checked a lot of my boxes with guns and knives and intox and even stuff in the forest specifically. There were short isolated moments where I might have been like 👀 lol but otherwise not really for me. I guess just in movies like that (as in not porn) it just focuses a lot more on the terror and humiliation. I guess it’s too real? But a quick gif without context is different. Porn/erotica/fantasy in my head is just better.

I fully recognize the weirdness of something literally triggering a panic attack in me and yet being what I gravitate towards in sexual fantasy. Especially when that panic attack trigger is (was) about sex itself. But yeah like I said, human brain weird. I just go with it though. I’d rather it be a kink than something that’s upsetting.

The vibes that Johnny guy gave off were nice though. The direction my brain goes in was I wish he just took her for himself and wouldn’t let anyone else have her. And just keeps her as his pet. 🥰 And anyone who’s been on my blog for more than a minute would know I’d love a hint of reassurance/soothing too haha. It seemed they wanted to keep things pretty rough/degrading though, which makes sense for the plot.

Anyway thanks for the ask sorry for the novel!

[allalrightagain]

I posted 592 times in 2022

107 posts created (18%)

485 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lunapwrites

@broomsticks

@thebibliosphere

@labradorduck

@remuslupinfest

I tagged 572 of my posts in 2022

Only 3% of my posts had no tags

#hp - 141 posts

#lt talks - 104 posts

#hp fic - 49 posts

#ask games - 46 posts

#remus lupin - 30 posts

#diwf - 27 posts

#show everyone - 25 posts

#writing - 19 posts

#lt writes fic - 18 posts

#reblog games - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#there’s a famous-in-certain-circles person with the same spelling as my name and it was very surreal when it first started being brought up

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

OH YES character ask game i was hoping it’d find its way here!! remus and harry please ❤️ (and/or anyone else you have Thoughts about!!)

XD Thank you! Remus and Harry are good ones haha. This took me forever to nail down specifics and I still didn’t succeed, this is the best I’ve got lmao. Under a cut because I think this is even longer than the last one 😂

favorite thing about them

Remus

I could write a whole essay on each of them—how/why I project on them, a hundred little things I think about regularly— but I will try to keep it short. What sticks with me about Remus, over and over, is how much he’s able to do with so little. He is going through it literally every day. I liked Remus a lot in initial reads, but it wasn’t until I returned to the books and fandom that he really started standing out to me. A direct quote of an annotation from my last reread (Dec ’19, which I never finished) just after he’s introduced says

“Not only is Remus a dementor hotspot as it is, but Lupin’s summer goes something like this: accepts job working at hogwarts, sirius escapes, he gets on the hogwarts express (without any of his now dead or imprisoned best friends for the first time ever) falls asleep, wakes up to a spitting image of his dead best friend and a dementor outside the door, best friend’s son who he hasn’t seen since said best friend died passes out on the floor and then Remus has to come up with a happy memory?? It’s really no wonder he doesn’t notice Peter is Scabbers. He’s got too much on his mind. Like grief.”

He has seen so much, and yet despite everything he still keeps moving, keeps fighting, keeps showing up when he absolutely is not expected to. All of his little gestures, the reaching out to grab Harry’s shoulder and then thinking better of it, there’s just so much going on in his head all the time and at least 60% of it is angst (and it should probably be a lot higher than that).

Harry

Harry has been my comfort character for almost longer than I can remember— that’s not an exaggeration, my dad read the first three books out loud to me the year I started kindergarten and I reread them every summer until the last book came out when I was in middle school. I have, no joke, spent more time thinking about him than the entirety of my college major and current career combined. I think the same resilience we see in Remus stands out in Harry (a HUGE portion of DIWF planning was outlining similarities between the two for a reason— they are absolutely mirrors), the same desire to be kind, to care even when it seems foolish. If I had to pick one single thing, it’s that; the empathy he offers to others (almost) no matter what. and on the few occasions he doesn’t, I was well ahead of him in telling them to fuck off

least favorite thing about them

Remus

Voted most likely to give his kid daddy issues :( I love him dearly but at the first sign of a hiccup Remus’s instinct is to be anywhere but here and justifies it by doing something productive wherever that “not here” is. See: reading during SWM, resigning from Hogwarts, the werewolf packs, the horcrux hunt.

Harry

Excepting the epilogue/CC which I do not count against him, of course. Idk if I even have a least favorite thing. Everything that comes to mind I immediately justify lmao. I guess he can be a bit of an asshole, and he’s very quick to judge the good guys from the bad guys, which mostly works out in his favor but sometimes means he justifies things he shouldn’t (or hates someone without much cause).

favorite line

Remus

Hard-pressed not to pick the scene where Snape and Remus (and Harry) discuss the Map in POA without Remus copping to anything. OR possibly “No one’s going to try and kill you until we’ve sorted a few things out." Love scary!Remus.

Harry

Too many to count— I just spent like 3 hours rereading bits and pieces and I’ve given up trying to pick just one, or even a couple. He’s got some really great sass backs, particularly to Snape, Malfoy, and the Dursleys, plus a couple really upsetting lines like “People don’t like being locked up” or “Parents,” said Harry, “shouldn’t leave their kids unless — unless they’ve got to,” but I genuinely don’t think I can pick a favorite.

brOTP

Remus

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs <3 Although I do like Remus and Lily as friends.

Harry

Ron. 100%.

OTP

Remus

Ok this is just going to look like an unpopular opinion answer, but I love Remadora and Wolfstar about the same. Also Remus/Tonks/Sirius I love a lot. James/Lily/Sirius/Remus goes in honorable mentions.

Harry

Hinny :) Drarry I’ll read but you have to sell me on it a bit unless I’m in the mood.

nOTP

See the full post

11 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#4

Diversity win! Your nb coworker just won a sports argument with you thanks to knowledge gained from fandom!

13 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

#3

Hate that I’m working when I desperately want to get out resurrected Lily/James have to live with 30 something Remus/Sirius and also Harry

14 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

#2

Out of the Woods (Wormtail Week Day 1)

Life continues after the ending of every story, happy or otherwise.  Or: Peter has a plan, after everything falls apart. He isn't totally sure if it's going to plan, though. Peter Pettigrew/Petunia Dursley Post-Halloween 1981, cheating, getting together

Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Petunia who dreamed of getting out. Out of town, out of the house, out of the way of her perfect, peculiar sister and her strange, special friends.

Unlike them, Petunia didn’t have magic to whisk her away from life as she knew it; it took time and hard work and a calculated “miracle” or two (oh that’s so funny! I just happened to…), until she got a wedding and a king and a castle far, far away, just as she’d always hoped.

But then, of course, fairy tales don’t tell the story after the Happily Ever After.

At first, it was perfect. They had a darling, delightful prince, and Petunia got to decide what foods to eat, how much to clean, what their garden should look like.

And so she cooked and she cleaned and she gardened and she cared for their son, and when she was done for the day, Vernon would return and she would do half of it over again.

Her parents died, leaving her the keys to a kingdom she’d renounced long ago. As ever, she did what was right, what was expected, and her amazing, absent sister couldn’t be bothered to show.

She kept the keys to the house she didn’t want in a little box in the kitchen, just in case. She didn’t know what it was in case of, especially once Lily had died and left her nothing but another baby to care for, but just in case of something. She knew better than anyone that anything was often well beyond the scope of the expected or the imaginable.

And sure enough, one winter afternoon, she found a rat in her kitchen.

She’d only just put the boys down for a nap (and what a hassle that was with two of them! Each setting the other off crying again when they’d almost fallen asleep, over and over, until she wanted to leave them both alone in the hopes that they’d tire each other out and maybe maybe let it be quiet again) and she had returned downstairs with the intent of starting dinner when she found it— him— sitting cool as you please on Petunia’s sparkling counters, drinking a snifter of Vernon’s most expensive brandy.

She let out a scream before she thought of the boys she’d only just gotten to sleep and swallowed it back. But the rat seemed uninterested, and… did he just raise an eyebrow?

She cast around for a broom or a pan to scare him off but the only thing closer to her than the rat was the teddy she’d planned to mend after Dudley had ripped the head off. It would have to do.

Careful not to get too close— she didn’t want to hit the glass— she swung out with the stuffie, and still the rat looked unimpressed.

“Out,” she cried, with another swing, this one a bit closer, “Get out of my house! I don’t want you here!”

This had never worked on Lily or the Snape boy either, but she knew magic had all sorts of rules to learn, and, well, she could hope that was one. In films, Dracula needed permission to enter, maybe that was true of witches, too.

The rat had put down his drink to face her directly.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she said, as loudly as she dared. “Leave!”

But the rat did not, and when she swung out once more, the snifter wobbled precariously.

“Fine! Fine,” she conceded, slumping back against the refrigerator, beheaded teddy leg still clutched in her hand. “Well? If you’ve got a message for me, or whatever, say it now before my husband gets home.”

Finally, the rat moved. A step away from the brandy, then a running leap at her that made her shriek again and swat it away with her makeshift weapon— except when it made contact it was with a fully grown man, not a rat at all.

He stood before her, wand held casually in one hand— not exactly brandishing it at her, but showing it off. He was short, not quite as tall as she was, with bright, straw blond hair, and he looked like a strong wind would bowl him over, despite having a bit of bulk on her. If it wasn’t for the stupid wooden stick in his hand, she thought she could easily take him.

That, and the rat thing.

“First of all, we’ve got to work on your security system. D’you know who I am?”

He didn’t ask like Vernon— or his father— did, full of expectation and impatience. The man-who-was-also-a-rat asked like he expected to have been overlooked, like he was afraid even now that he’d be thrown out for not being recognized. It was a look Petunia had trained away from her own expression when she’d lost her accent.

“I’m afraid I don’t, mister…”

“Pettigrew,” he said cautiously, “Peter Pettigrew.” And then, after a moment of hesitation, “I was— I was friends with your sister and your… brother-in-law.”

“Yes, well, they’re both dead now, and they’ve left me their son, as I’m sure you’re aware, seeing as you’ve let yourself into my kitchen.”

“Like I was saying, better security system. Which brings me to why I’m here.”

He made a sort of gesture to imply he’d like to sit down at the table and discuss it, but when Petunia didn’t budge from her place against the fridge, he stayed standing in the middle of the room.

See the full post

15 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I don't have time or energy to tease out @impishtubist's prompt of resurrected James/Lily need to learn to live with Sirius, Remus, and Harry, but have five drabbles (really! 100 words each!) on their first dinner together. Canon divergence, somewhere around OotP.

Harry had gone to the Ministry expecting death—his or Sirius’s or one of his friends— and hoped to survive. Instead, he’d gotten something more miraculous than even he could wish for. Every minute since his parents— parents! He’d never really had those!— had stumbled out of the veil has been spent learning something new: the way his mother flicks away the ends of her hair, the weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder, the way they smiled at each other. He learns and he waits for it to all be ripped away and enjoys it while he can.

They’re all sat at a kitchen table in a house none of them own. Six chairs. Five people, five place settings. There should be six of them and James hasn’t quite accepted that there aren’t. Remus and Sirius have had a whole life— Harry’s whole life— or at the very least years to try and understand what could never be explained. James is angry and upset and happy to be alive and so, so confused by this world that’s wrong in unexpected ways. Five of them are here and Harry had flinched when the sixth was mentioned, and James aches.

Remus blinks again, still expecting the mirage to dissipate and leave him full of pain and drugs and regret. Magic didn’t bring people back from the dead. If it could, he would have gone to the Ministry sometime before now and dragged them back himself and saved them all the trouble. Remus was supposed to struggle through it, to make it to the finish line decades too soon, die in some tragic or heroic way and be greeted with pity and love as he had in life. Cobbling together a table full of loved ones had never been the plan.

The last few moments of Lily’s life keep flashing behind her eyes; her toddler’s confused face, the cold, cruel laugh, a blinding flash of death-green light. She keeps them open, watches the room instead of memories fifteen years and hours old. Sees how her son looks to Sirius before he moves or speaks, how he flinches and shrinks in on himself, how he shakes. He doesn’t look to Remus, and Remus can’t stop looking at her and James. They aren’t a family, they’re just a ball of tangled strings, tied up in all the wrong ways, impossible to untangle.

Sirius had dreamt this, truly dreamt instead of nightmares, that first night after Azkaban—all of them together: Sirius his own age, James and Lily forever twenty-one, Remus somewhere in between. Harry had just been there, one and eleven all at once. It didn’t compare to this moment of absolute lightness Sirius feels watching his family— free from death and that horrible house— joyous at the most perfect dinner he’ll ever eat. They have time to fight, to learn to live together, to not set off each of their particular traumas. That will come, because they, somehow, have time.

29 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[chloeangelic]

Long overdue, I’m finally giving Vic one of my High Effort Reblogs and I thought it would be for TCC but I have to do it for At The Restaurant and then I can suck her off even more in my TCC reblog cause I have more to say.

Here’s the thing, I wasn’t really that into Din until I read TCC. I watched the show, I liked the character, but I just… Didn’t wanna fuck him, like, I just didn’t have much of a fascination with the man under there, so I think seeing him through Vic’s eyes was what I needed to do in order to get it and now I GET IT!!!!! I rewatched the show after reading TCC and I see him in a completely different light now, it’s wild. As dramatic as it sounds, I never really saw him as human until I read her portrayal, I couldn’t look past the armor somehow. I have never read a Din AU before this so I had no idea what to expect but I am IN LOVE with this Din, truly - more on that later. 

Spoiler related stuff and me being a simp under the cut cause this is gonna be long !!! 

I think everyone can agree that Vic is a phenomenal writer, and I’m terrible at formulating my thoughts about writing cause I have zero technical knowledge, so all I can offer is that her writing makes me cry and also cream my panties because she embeds so much emotion into her words, her descriptions of people and places and situations are so vivid that I can see them crystal clear in my head, and everything just feels so god damn real. Fics hit different when you can tell that the writer has a love for their characters and their stories. Vic never wastes words, ever. She has this absolutely insane range - every fic has a different tone and yet it’s still so clearly her writing, you know? I think it’s difficult to create a well fleshed-out dynamic in a one shot and capture a couple’s spectrum of emotion and experiences with each other in a such a short fic, without doing all kinds of logistical explanations, but then fics like At The Restaurant happen and it’s just this perfectly succinct story weaved into the action itself, and you’re fed their history as you go along and it’s all just so smooth and PERFECT ugh 

Vic’s descriptions of a man’s physicality will always be 10/10, no matter who it’s about. I will be on my knees, in love, mouth AGAPE for any Pedro boy she writes cause their characterizations are always so amazing. 

Sorry, my big smut speech will have to come with another RB cause this shit is gonna be too long lmfao. I also think the relationship and Din himself in this story just fucking got me more than anything, like.. hardcore got me. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely want to fuck and suck with this Din for 24 hrs straight, and I felt it in my coochie when he said “Now” so obviously he owns me but I have debased myself enough to Vic, telling her about getting a massive nut off to her fics so I’m gonna cool it this time ok 

Grogu and The Mandalorian being worked into this was absolute fucking GOLD. Legit my fav part. It was cute and creative and funny and such an amazing use of canon material, GOD BLESS !!!!! The focus, going into it, is easily gonna be on Din being a fuckboy, so I think the portrayal of him as a brother was so fantastic that no more convincing was needed that he’s actually a good guy, and that’s what makes me as the reader look back on the MC’s narrative and be like okay, maybe I judged him too quick. Learning about his parents/his family constellation in general is the point where 1) your stomach hurts, and 2) you’re like oh shit okay everything makes sense, and even so, it was still portrayed in a way that wasn’t oversimplified. 

I was feeling all demonic and hihi haha until the end and basically I feel like I got chewed up and spit out cause now I want to be a whiny part 2 commenter, begging for a crumb of them together. 

Ok that’s it for now love u bye 

Actual footage of me thinking I knew where it was going and then getting thrown by the end

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him. 

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it. 

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself. 

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

 You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine. 

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good. 

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you. 

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other. 

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway. 

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him. 

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention. 

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here. 

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be. 

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it. 

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him. 

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it. 

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu. 

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please. 

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge? 

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely. 

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point. 

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.” 

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you. 

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one. 

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore. 

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore. 

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there. 

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence. 

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up. 

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long. 

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of. 

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return. 

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger. 

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side. 

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing. 

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt. 

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough. 

-

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom. 

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.” 

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about. 

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that. 

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm. 

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him. 

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this. 

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him. 

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others. 

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here. 

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth. 

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart. 

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him. 

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can. 

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had. 

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary. 

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins. 

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him. 

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice. 

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him. 

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside. 

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence. 

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.  

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time. 

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain. 

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart. 

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing. 

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless. 

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[hotxcheeto]

heyy, here after reading 'bathroom activities'!! I loved it and I would love to read the opposite,,, like ellie getting jealous, not because of the same thing but you know... also reader teasing ellie about it + smut please (fem reader ofc, please make it long cause I love long fics 🙏🏻)

━ 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, afab reader, fingering ( f! receiving ), kissing, slight joking, slight dom kink, jealousy, flirting, make out session, teasing, very dirty remarks, pet names, top!ellie, bottom!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I hope you enjoy!! Ty you sm for the rq! ily very much and I'm glad you liked bathroom activities I know I enjoyed writing it haha!

REBLOGS ARE EXTREMELY APPRECIATED

Ellie was mature, most of the time.

But not when she was jealous.

She continuously huffed like a toddler with her arms crossed and a similar pout on her face. Like now, staring at you who was happily chatting up the man who ran the shop counter. Smiling at you and giving you tips for things around the house that you had brought up in conversation while he took your items.

You came for a few things bringing goods you'd collected on runs as payment and somehow she'd gotten stuck standing there for twenty minutes as the guy tried his shitty attempts at flirting on you.

The lines going right over your head and barely glancing to Ellie thinking you were just talking to a friend not someone she wanted to bury alive.

"No, and Ellie's always complaining about the leaky sink in her bathroom yet we still have yet to figure it out." You giggled, turning to finally meet your girlfriends annoyed stare silently begging you to leave to go back home already. Having been dragged from there in the first place.

"Y/n.." She very quietly said hoping not to seem rude as you've scolded her before today for her childish begs to leave. It wasn't that she didn't want to be around those people or that she didn't like them, Ellie just wasn't an extrovert and prefered her time spent being with just you.

And you understood that about her, it's something that she loved most about you. That despite your motherly words to tell her to not make it so obvious and rude sounding, you'd leave just a few minutes after. Bringing her home to recharge her social battery, or that's how Joel worded it.

She liked it being just you and her. Not with what the fuck's his name not even glancing at her when you gave her your short reply.

"Alright."

It was with a sweet smile and a soft voice. Turning back to your acquaintance who immediately interrupted your goodbye.

"We should really hang out sometime." You stared at him and nodded even though you had no intention of doing so. Moving your hand just the slightest over to hold Ellie's, squeezing her limb and giving her a reassuring thumb rub on the back.

"Yeah. Everyone's going down to the bar tomorrow you should come." It was friendly, nothing even a bit suggestive in your mind but he seemed disappointed by this. Opening his mouth to talk again when Ellie leaned in and rested her hand on your belly, running along it to grab the bag he gave you.

Trying to silently give him a hint without upsetting you.

But you noticed, you always did, giving her a quick side eye before kissing her cheek.

"It was nice seeing you again Tyler."

Tyler, that's what the fuckers name was.

"Wait, are you guys, like, a thing?"

To Ellie is sounded like disgust or disapproval and she wasn't sure what you were thinking, only that you began pushing her towards the door with half your strength, smiling at Tyler.

"Yeah. What'd you think?" He watched almost dumbfounded by her words while you continued walking her to the door. "I–" "I'll see you later Tyler!"

Somehow you successfully got her back onto the street, grabbing her hand as you walked back to your home in a comfortable yet slightly tense silence.

Ellie deciding that her shed was far too lonely for the next few stormy nights and followed you back to your large home surely built for a family. Yet it was all yours.

"He wanted to fuck you." She said walking up the stairs in front of you, quite frustrated while unlocking and pushing open the door. "Ellie."

You groaned and kicked the door shut locking it up behind you and turning back to her with an uninterested stare. Almost like a 'really?'

"I'm serious!" She proclaimed with her hands out and eyes slightly wide. "Ellie, he was being flirty, and I wasn't interested. I've got something much better." You gave her a grin but she still wasn't sold, watching as you stepped close and swung your arms around her neck, faces just a few inches apart.

"What's wrong?" You then asked seriously, breaking her from her very upsetting thoughts of killing Tyler. Gaze snapping back to yours.

"I hate him." You snorted and stood up on your tippy toes to kiss her cheek, smooshing her face in the process. "I love you though." You muttered against her skin, pulling away and moving to walk off into your living room when she gripped your wrist and spun you face first into her chest.

"Ellie!" She laughed, grabbing you tight around the waist. "He totally wanted you." You pulled your face from her chest and looked up at her. "Really?" You questioned her blankly, wanting her jealousy to only subside but then you met her eyes that were blown up and full of want.

"I'm all yours Ells." "I might need to remind you." She said quietly while you gave her a cheeky glance, walking backwards towards the couch that faced away from you both. "Really?" "Yeah, you sure liked talking to him." "Well maybe I thought he was a good friend." "And maybe I think you need to be taken care of."

You giggled, running around the couch and away from her, Ellie right behind you grabbing you up from around your waist. Hearing your laughter echoing throughout the room.

"It's not my fault your jealous!" "Jealous? M'not jealous." She brushed off cornering you and getting you sit back on the couch and look up at her with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"Mm, you're looking a little jealous there Ells."

Her gaze made you feel so small, like a predator overlooking its prey, but her smile made yours stay. Bashfully keeping her stare while blinking at her innocently.

"Especially when he asked me to hang ou– ah!" She grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you forward, spreading your legs to lean down and kiss you. Gripping your face with one and the other resting on your thigh surely tight enough to leave marks to remind you of this moment for a few days to come.

"And then when he asked if we were together..." You whispered against her lips, her hand slipping down to your neck while your fingertips touched her cheeks keeping her there.

"...you should've seen your face."

Her breath was hot as it picked up and her grip got possessive, the hand around your neck just lightly squeezing. Ellie pushing her body towards your while meeting your lips once again hearing a little whine come from your mouth letting out small breaths once she pulled away again.

Your doe eyed gaze staring into her own, Ellie finding the small pout on your lips rather adorable. Running her thumb across them before her hand snaked down to the bottom of your shirt, twirling it around, staring right into your eyes.

"Mind taking this off for me?"

Without another word you reached down gliding over the back of her hand to take off the top. Pulling it over your head with ease and setting it beside you on the cushion with your pink bra now exposed to her.

All the while keeping your head tilted up at her, knowing how much she loved to see your face.

Ellie moving to kiss your forehead, and then your lips and down to your jaw. Reaching behind you to unclip your bra, lightly pulling it down your arms letting her nails tickle your soft skin kissing over your collarbone in the process.

"I bet he thought about doing this." She said, tone running right between your legs but her stance made you unable to squeeze your legs together to get rid of the ache that had began to drive you crazy.

"Ellie..." "I bet he wished he got to touch you."

Ellie loved it, she did. Because she got to interact with you whenever she pleased, she got to cuddle and talk to you every single day, and it made her feel like a kid on Christmas morning, or how she imagined that they'd feel.

She tossed your bra aside to pair with your shirt her hands then falling to the button of your jeans. Not needing to ask permission by the way you stared at her and moved your hips towards her hands. Ripping the pants from your legs and throwing them aside.

Ellie then fell beside you on the couch. Guiding you into her lap and right on top of her thigh with her hands set on your hips, smiling at your bright stare waiting for her direction.

"But your so pretty, I get it. Who wouldn't want to touch you?"

Her hand came up, resting on your chin to lightly place the pad of her thumb on your lips before pushing her thumb right into your mouth forcing your mouth around it.

"Huh?" Something came out of your throat but was incomprehensible making Ellie laugh a bit. Tilting her head at you, silently teasing you.

Sucking the digit keeping your eyes on her own the entirety of the time; your much smaller hands grabbed her arm while your tongue swirled around her.

Her thigh suddenly jerking up causing a muffled moan to pass from your lips, thumb popping back out to smear your spit onto your lips before fully pulling away.

"What do you want?"

You were catching your breath as she asked that, lips plump and pretty when she pulled you in for another kiss.

"You gotta tell me babe."

"I want you to fuck me."

"Oh yeah?"

You nodded a bit flustered with your face hot especially once she began to move you, shifted your body, her hands again guiding you along to a new position.

Keeping your back against her chest and your legs spread nice and wide for her sat up on her knees, aching cunt still covered by your panties that now had wet spot right in the middle.

And it was all for her.

Ellie's middle finger then just barely glides over it before her head appeared beside yours, kissing your bare shoulder then the side of your neck.

"Jesus." Your breath hitched in your throat as the raspy whisper that became beside your face. Fighting the urge to jerk your hips up towards her touch, wishing she'd just give you an ounce more.

Just a drop.

"Please Ellie." You mumbled, lips pushed out and begging eyes when you turned to her. "Please touch me, please..." Your begs were to cute and she knew that fucker wished he could hear them, she knew and she fucking loved it.

"Take 'em off." You hurriedly pushed up to pull your panties down, and drop them to the floor, a little string of slick coming with them. Ellie's little grin and teasing chuckles resting against your skin and ringing in your ears.

Face going hot even though it wasn't visible. You felt so small under her watchful eye and little remarks. You felt so fucking good though.

"Mm, there you go. Just like that." Her fingers soon arrived right at your slit, her middle and ring finger beginning to rub little circles over your clit. "oh.." you whispered, legs moving farther apart without a thought wanting more without saying a word.

"Ellie..." Her fingers began moving just a big faster, her other hand coming to your thigh, pulling you apart as far as you could manage. Little whispers and whimpers spilling from your lips and cutting through the quiet air.

"Please more...." You sounded on the verge of tears when you spoke, but she knew that you couldn't get enough as her fingers slipped inside of you. A much louder noise making her grin like a cartoon character, kissing your cheek proudly.

"Oh fuck..." "Do you think he's still thinking about you?" You didn't say anything back, Ellie moving faster, her other few fingers on the hand that rested against your thigh began to creep its way towards your clit. "Do you think he's wondering what you're doing right now?" "I dunno–" You managed to mutter out.

Staring right at her fingers while the toyed with you. Pushing against the little bud while quickly pushing in and out of your hole creating a wet sound that swallowed up the room.

"How's that feel?" "Goo–Good. Please faster..." And so she went, thrusting in again and again pressing right up against your special spot making your teeth clench and legs shake. A tingly feeling spreading throughout your lower half. "Ellie..."

She never slowed though, creating a skin on skin noise while pumping her hand. Pushing against your foot with just a bit of force to get you to jump.

"You feel so fucking good.." She whispered to you, watching every little reaction you had to her as your head lolled to the side. Your whines and cries like music and it was her favorite song.

But it wasn't Ryans or Lukes or whatever his fucking name was.

She didn't care anymore, the little green monster had finally been defeated and all she could see was you.

Fucking you.

Adding another finger just to get a reaction out of you and continuing her fast pace that o your mind. Hazy and foggy while staring down at her playing with you, making you feel good.

"Oh my God, m'gonna cum El–" "Cum babe, cum on my fingers."

Your mouth was wide, choking over your words and sentences leaving nothing but a jumbled mess to fall out. Body jerking and spasming as you clenched around her long fingers, your head falling far back as her name fell from your lips like a prayer in a horror movie.

Groans coming from your throat, squeezing her wrists.

"Oh fuck–" You yelled, Ellie tracking your every movement with a lovesick smile on her face, making sure you slowly came down. The feeling of her rubbing and touching you slowly helping you ride out your orgasm.

Until it was too much. Pulling her hands away from between your legs, laying all your weight against her, arms moving around your waist to hold you tight.

"Ellie..." She let you bury your face in her neck as you closed up your legs allowing her to hold you close. "I need to make you jealous more often." You then muttered, playing with the collar of her shirt.

"I'm not done." Her mind drifted back to Matt, or was it Kyle?

"Not yet."

"I love you Ellie."

"Yeah, I love you too. Now get on your hands and knees for me, babe."

"Okay."

A/n: I was so drained the past few days

[aguacatetoast]

Lust at First Sight

You have your sister's wedding next week and you were nervous about conquering it all by yourself, but you find an unlikely guest to accompany you and make it more tolerable.

Wedding!Frank castle x Female reader

Read part 2 here

Warnings: Alluding to sexual activities but no smut!

Word Count: 3, 543

Likes and reblogs appreciated thank you!<3

Your sister's wedding was next week and you were still short of a plus one. You had initially thought of bringing your best friend with you but unfortunately, she was out of town that weekend so you were stuck going alone. You had the constant pressure of your sister asking if you had finally found someone to take with you and you always just shook your head no and laughed it off. Today made precisely one week before the wedding, you realized as you were in your office cubicle organizing your schedule for the next couple of weeks. You didn't want to think about it so you went to the little lunch area and went to get a snack to just distract yourself momentarily. But as if the devil was by your side when you were about to enjoy your snack at the tables that were in the lunch area you felt your phone vibrate. You let out a frustrated sigh and then when you saw the contact name you rolled your eyes, of course, it was your sister. You took a deep breath and answered it "Heyyy Sis, how are you? Excited for next week?" You thought that maybe by bombarding her with questions she would forget the same irritating question she asks every time time "Mhmm yeah yeah Listen.." You knew what was coming up and you sucked in your breath and bit your tongue a bit as you heard what she said "Did you finally find someone to the wedding? I need to know to confirm by tomorrow so.." You roll your eyes and reply "I don't plan on bringing anyone to the wedding, everyone is too busy for me next Saturday." You heard a dry chuckle come from your sister "I'm sure you'll end up finding someone, I'm going to mark your plus one just in caseee" You roll your eyes again and say "Okkk-- but you're wasting your time and moneyyy" You replied to her in the same singy songy voice that she used with you. You say a quick goodbye realizing how much time you had invested into a time-wasting conversation. But then when you turn around you see a timid Frank Castle that you failed to notice out of pure desperation for a snack and then the distracting phone call. You immediately feel embarrassed "Frank I'm so sorry if you heard that it was just my sister being annoying haha" You sucked at interacting with Frank because he was your 'work crush' as your best friend described him. You rushed out of that lunch area, you felt as if it were growing smaller by the second. When you got to your cubicle you felt your heart beating abnormally you took a second to calm down and just go back to work.

After you finished work and started to pack up, you felt the presence of a tall dark man. You were crouched under your desk picking up your bag, when you look up and made eye contact he gives you a soft smile and simply said

"I could go with you if you would like"

The way he spoke so formally to you and the slight rosy tint on his cheeks melted you immediately. You let out a small nervous laugh "So you heard the whole conversation huh?" He nodded and replied, "Fortunately, yes." You smile and stand up to get closer to his eye level "Of course, you can come with me Frank." He gives you another soft smile "Just text me the details sweetheart." You started to throb a bit at the pet name, he grabs your hand and places a little slip of paper. You stuff it into your purse and then you hear Frank say "Can I walk you to your car?" You honestly just needed some time to yourself because if you stay alone with him any longer you won't be able to resist the urge to kiss him, but of course, you said "Yes Frankie" He smiles, and you two walk out of the office together.

"So does your sister always guilt trip you like that or is that only for your wedding?" You laugh and sigh "Unfortunately that is her all the time, and you were proving her insanity right because I miraculously found my plus one." He holds his hands up close to his chest as if trying to prove himself innocent and says "I couldn't let a pretty girl like you be all alone on a special day." You give him a slight push and say "You are such a flirt Frankie" He gives you a confused face as if he doesn't know what you're talking about. Then you see your car and you get a bit disappointed, you wanted to keep talking to Frank. You turn to him and point at your car "Hey this is me" He turns and walks in the direction of your car and you're now leaning against the car door on the driver's side. He hovers over you a bit and you tell him "Thank you for walking with me Frank" He gives you a shy grin and says "Of course any time you want, Take care beautiful" You give him a small kiss on the cheek and he starts heading into his car but not before you get into yours. You don't know what magic your sister has, but you sure as hell were grateful that she had it.

-

You and Frank had exchanged numbers to 'discuss the wedding' but you were hoping it was for more then just that.

Frankie<3: Hey sweet girl, picking you up tomorrow at 6:30, can't wait to see you

me: I can't wait either<3 I know you're going to look very handsome as always

You felt dumb as if you have written too much. You instantly regretted it and put your phone down. You started to feel flushed and went to go wash your face and do your nightly routine before the big night. When you came back you turned your phone on to see

Frankie<3: I'll look better by your side, Goodnight beautiful

You got instant butterflies to his message, although it was very cheesy and it made you laugh a bit you really enjoyed it. You had been looking forward to going out with him for a long time, you were anxious about what your family had to say about Frank. As you drifted away to your sleep you couldn't stop thinking about Frank, and dancing with him.

-

It was the morning and your stomach was doing flips. You never answered Frank last night out of nerves and he hadn't texted you whatsoever that morning, he knew you would be stressed out and complicated. You were at a hotel where your sister and her bridesmaids were getting ready, and seeing as you were her maid of honor, you were by her side. Your mind was just drifting into thoughts of Frank and wondering what he was doing, how was he getting prepared, and if he was ready to face the wrath of your family. After finishing your makeup, you checked your phone and saw one notification. It was a message from Frank simply saying

Frankie<3: 1 or 2

Your eyebrows furrowed, what the hell could that mean, but you didn't want to question him so you simply replied with 2. He answered back quickly and it read "I knew you would pick that", You were confused but you were too busy with your maid of honor duties so you just set your phone down and went to go help your sister.

Finally, it was time for you to be picked up. Your hair was done perfectly, and you were wearing a Navy Blue dress different from your sister's bridesmaids. It was tailored to your body with a different style and cut from theirs but it suited you perfectly, hugging everything in the right places. As you were waiting for him at the hotel you went into the room where you were staying in the hotel. You went to quickly grab some last-minute things and when you had finished gathering everything you went to the lobby to meet him. Once you were there you saw a fancy-looking car, then a strongly built man get out, it was Frank. You couldn't believe your eyes, he looked like a model, which he would never admit to because he doesn't realize how attractive he is. He was wearing a completely black on black tuxedo, maybe that's what you picked out. You went outside and he recognized you quickly and you saw how his face shifted. His eyes searching you up and down until you two finally got close enough to see each other up close. You two made eye contact and Frank had a rosy tint to his cheeks. You smiled at him and he was finally out of his trance and said "You look absolutely stunning sweetheart" You looked down for a second out of nerves and then looked back at him and said, " You look good enough to eat Frankie." You saw him get nervous and what you said got a small laugh out of him and he took your hand "May I?" He said as he led you to the car, you nodded your head, yes, and you saw him open the door for you you got in and he helped you with the bottom of your dress since it was a little long. He closed the door of the fancy car and he went the other way to the driver's seat. He quickly got in, settled in, and looked over at you, but turned around before you could look back at him. You two sat in comfortable silence while he was driving. There were some points on the highway where he would speed up the car as if trying to impress you, you would just laugh while he gripped your thigh saying "Hold on tight." In between your legs you felt intense throbbing as you felt the tight grip of his large hand on your thigh, you could feel some pooling start forming.

-

You guys finally arrived at the venue, it was a beautiful outdoor venue with strings of lights aligned everywhere. Everything looked beautiful, straight out of Pinterest thanks to your meticulous sister that was very specific with her decorations. The lights added a euphoric hue to Frank as you two walked in together. Frank had your arm hooked around his, as you were walking in you were searching the crowd to see if you saw any familiar faces. But while you were distracted looking at the crowd Frank pulled you away from the main entrance and you saw him going to the table of gifts. You saw his other hand with a cream-colored envelope, you looked up at his determined face and you realized you didn't bring a gift to your sister's wedding. You spoke up while looking at him "Frank you're making me look bad at my own sister's wedding, I didn't bring her anything." He laughed and said "I figured sweet girl, I wrote both of our names. I want your family to have a good impression of me." You used your other hand to grip his arm and smiled at him. He proceeded to slip the card into the box your sister got custom-made for her wedding. You two started to make your way to the entrance and saw your table and the extra seat just for Frank which made your heart flutter. You hadn't taken in the fact that he was your date. You were glad that Frank had overheard that conversation between you and your sister. You two sat down at the table and shortly after you saw one of your aunts come in, you started to panic as she saw you, she was making her way toward you. You stood up fast trying to stop her from coming any closer to the table and more specifically Frank. This aunt was known for spreading rumors and lies so you were nervous about what would come from this interaction. "Hello Dear! My, My you look lovely!" You just say a quick thank you hoping it would end the conversation but then she peers over your shoulder and spots Frank looking around. This catches her by surprise and says "Ooh Honey who is that Fine young man? I've never seen him before" You internally roll your eyes, so much for avoiding that topic. Then you sensed a presence and you turn to see Frank, he proceeds to grab your waist and tells your aunt "My name is Frank Castle Ma'am, I'm her boyfriend, it's a pleasure to meet you" he puts his hand out to grab hers and kisses it softly. You were shocked at his actions and you tried to hide your face of confusion as best as you could. Your aunt was taken away by the handsome man who just kissed her hand, you swore you saw a faint blush on her cheeks. She cleared her throat and said "W-well it's very nice to meet you too Frank, so glad that you are dating my beautiful niece, ...Keep him! He's a man you want in your life" while she said that she looked at him up and down and then back at you. Frank just had a cocky smile and you looked at your aunt and said "Thank you so much, will definitely be keeping him!" When you finished saying that Frank tightened his grip around your waist and made the space between you two smaller, and the butterflies in your stomach were growing by the second.

-

The ceremony was finally starting and you had to leave Frank by himself at the Table. You went up to go meet up with your sister, she was really nervous was panicking, she told you "What if Mark doesn't cry? What if he doesn't say I do?" You roll your eyes at her and tell her "At this point, you're making up things to go wrong with your wedding, Breathe and calm down let's be logical." Your sister did some breathing exercises and you ask her "Everything good? Are you ready?" She smiled and nodded. Everyone got in Position. Your sister with your dad. You were right behind her with the Best man in your arm, wishing it was Frank instead. Behind you were the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. Everyone is excited to walk down and support the people they love and also to get over the ceremony and actually start the party. The wedding music started to play and your sister started to walk down the aisle, then soon after you followed along searching for Frank. You were smiling at the crowd, mostly out of nerves, then you spotted Frank, he waved at you very discreetly and your smile felt genuine when seeing him. Everyone was in position, and ready to endure the actual ceremony.

-

Everything went well during the ceremony, they said their "I do's", and now your sister was officially married, which meant the party was about to start. After your sister said some kind words she declared "The party has officially started !" Everyone made their way to the dance floor, and you squeezed between the crowd to find Frank. He was standing against the wall using his phone, you reached him and tugged on his arm "Are you ready to dance?" He looked up at you and said "I think the question is are you ready to dance with me" \ You would always hope that Frank would ask you to dance but you felt as if maybe he was just not a dancer or too embarrassed to dance in front of people. But you liked that he wasn't predictable, you would've never guessed that he would be bold enough to be asking if you were ready to dance. But as everyone was making their way to the dancefloor the food was announced so the crowd shifted to the buffet. You were ready to encounter the family interactions you were about to have. Frank grabs your hand and holds it tight, almost as if he thinks that you'd get lost in the crowd. You two make your way to the buffet, grab a plate, and then you spotted your parents, you saw them as an opportunity to skip the unbearably long line that had formed. You took Frank with you and there you were saying a proper hello to your parents. Then they turn to face Frank almost as if they were waiting for a proper introduction "Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend Frank", he reached in to shake your dad's hand to give a kiss on the cheek to your mom, "It's so nice to meet you finally". Your mom seemed to question you for never telling her about your mysterious 'boyfriend'. You proceeded to explain "I had never actually introduced him because I wanted to see if we were actually serious and he passed the test haha" you let out a dry chuckle at the end hoping that they wouldn't question it too much, but then you heard your dad say "It's nice to meet you too son, I hope you've been taking good care of my daughter", Frank put a hand on his chest and said "Of course sir, your daughter is my everything" Your heart started to beat rapidly and you got butterflies, was he telling the truth? Either way, you wanted to know. Your dad chuckled and they shook hands once again. Before you went to go get food your mom pulled you in closer and said "He is so handsome where did you find him?" You laughed a bit knowing Frank heard it and got a bit flustered by it, "Mom he works in the same office as me, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow" You said that to satisfy your mother for a bit, she gave you a smile and a wink and said, "Ok I'll be waiting!" You went back to Frank and hugged him leaning your head on his chest and asking "Have you had a good time so far? I'm sorry I left you alone for so long" He hugs you back setting both of your guys plates down and plays with the back of your arm soothing away your concerns. "Don't worry sweetheart, I've had a good time, I was speaking to your family members and drinking whatever alcohol one of your uncles gave to me" You let go of the hug and grab the plates again handing Frank's his while laughing a bit at Frank's trustworthiness with your family. He smiles at you and you tell him "Thank you for trusting my family so much, they're going to want to see you at every family event now" He simply replies "And I will be there at all of them, just for you." You still couldn't believe what was going on. Was he truly being sincere?

-

After eating and seeing the Bride and the Groom do their first dance as a married couple, your sister officially declared "Ok guys now the party has started!" You pulled Frank to dance with you and he was smiling as you two made your way to the dance floor. You were ready to see this side of Frank, you felt as if you two were actually dating and didn't want the night to end. He was already spinning you around and pulling you in close. You would get close to his chest and listen to his heart beating, and then you looked up at him and he was looking down at you he kissed your forehead and pulled you closer. He whispered something to your head but you couldn't decipher what he said, you were just in pure bliss with him at that moment. As if you couldn't have anything nice, you saw your sister go up towards you and Frank and she loudly says "Hello Beautiful, lovely sister, how are you?" You rolled your eyes let go of Frank's chest and just held his hand. "This is Frank castle, and Frank this is my beautiful sister and bride" Your sister did a little kissy-face when introducing her and Frank gave her a soft smile and took his hand out to properly introduce himself "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, couldn't have made it here without you" and then he got closer to your sister and said "Thanks to your phone call" You saw your sister laugh and said "Of course Anytime, so glad you could make it" she ended off her statement with a cheeky face. You felt like an outcast "Great now my boyfriend and sister are ganging up on me", Your sister smiled when you said "boyfriend", "Alright Frankie, already boyfriend status keep it up!" She said that while finding her now-husband and leaving, Frank yelled out to her "Will do ma'am." You were just rolling your eyes and got back to dancing with Frank, it was going to be a long night.

-

A/N I ran out of space so I'm making a part 2 !

[ticklishfiend]

Yay!! I love your fics and I’m excited to give you a prompt! Maybe Sero gets stuck in his own tape so Kirishima and Kaminari take advantage of finding out he’s ticklish when they try to get him free? Loved your last few fics by the way! I love all your fics but the last few were extra cute. 😊💖💖

aaahh tysm!! i absolutely adore your blog and all of the fics you post! tysm for this prompt, it was adorable, i love these boys sm lol

Sticky Situation (My Hero Academia)

Lee!Sero / Ler!Kirishima,Ler!Kaminari

Summary : Sero wants some help seeing if he can get out of his own tape. When he realizes he can’t, Kirishima and Kaminari just can’t help but take advantage of his little predicament.

Word Count :  1373

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!! MWAH <33

. . .

“And you’re positive this is safe?” Kirishima asked as he used the last bit of tape Sero extended to them to stick said black-haired boy to the wall. Both of Sero’s arms were stretched out beyond his sides, taped up to the wall spread-eagle style, Denki taking final precautionary measures by flattening the tape against his legs.

“Totally, man, I’ve done this to people tons of times!” Sero answered reassuringly, tugging at his arms to make sure he couldn’t escape. “I just need to make sure that if my tape is ever used against me, I can figure a way out of it myself. Wouldn’t be super heroic for a villain to trap me using my own quirk.”

“Makes sense,” Denki nodded, stepping back to admire his and Kiri’s handiwork. “So, uh...how do you plan on getting out exactly?” 

Sero grinned widely. “Like...this!” Sero tugged harshly against his tape, pulling at his legs and arms for freedom.

He didn’t even budge.

“Uh...I mean...like...THIS!” he tried again, rougher this time, his neck twisting as all his muscles pulled and writhed trying to free himself from his own bindings. The strained noises escaping his throat made Kiri raise a brow questioningly, before Denki burst into his own fit of laughter, clutching his stomach.

“Holy shit! He’s stuck!” Denki cackled, pointing towards the raven haired teen who finally slumped against the wall with an exasperated sigh.

“Quit laughing, you idiot! I can get out of this! I’ve just gotta…” Sero tried twisting his arms this time, attempting to create some friction between his skin and the sticky texture of his tape. This only resulted in a gross burning sensation on his arms, so he tried flapping his arms up and down this time. This only made him look more like an idiot than he already did.

Kiri couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s predicament. “Doesn’t seem like you’re gettin’ any further there, buddy,” Kiri grinned, making Denki snort beside him. “Let’s just get you down from there before you hurt yourself.”

Sero sighed, looking away from his friends embarrassingly. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Denki swiped a final laugh-induced tear from his own eye before walking towards Sero pinned to the wall, trying to unstick the tape from his arms. Sero hissed at this, his face wincing in discomfort, making Denki pull away fast.

“Shit, ow, wait don’t do that,” Sero said, clenching his fist a little at the pain. “Feels like your waxing my fucking arm hairs off.”

“Let’s try pulling him from the middle,” Kiri suggested, squeezing Sero’s sides in an attempt to pull. Sero’s torso jerked, the boy letting out a small yelp. Kiri pulled away instantly, thinking he had hurt the boy like Denki had.

“Oh, sorry man I didn’t mean to hurt-”

“No, no, you didn’t hurt me. Just, uh...felt kinda funny,” Sero said without looking directly at Kiri. Denki only raised a brow at this.

“Funny. Like...ticklish funny?” the blonde offered with a smirk, poking a quick finger into the boys ribs. Sero let out a high-pitched “Ah!” his torso trying to twist away from the prodding appendage.

“Ohoho, I see. Someone’s a little sensitive~” Kiri teased, wiggling his fingers in the air menacingly in front of Sero’s body. Sero’s eyes went wide, his struggles against his own bonds becoming a little more panicked.

“Guys, wait, please, don’t do this, I can’t take it-”

“Sure you can, Spidey! Maybe you’ll even squirm enough to worm your way outta this mess, huh?” Denki giggled, wiggling his index finger into Sero’s exposed underarm. Sero jerked with a yelp again, but when the sensation didn’t let up this time, small tittters started escaping his lips.

“Denki! Nohoho!” Sero pleaded, his eyes looking like a begging puppy’s.

“Denki yes!~” Denki retorted, adding all five of his fingers to wiggle into the sensitive pit. Sero giggled harder at this, his eyes squeezing shut in mirth. Kirishima decided he wanted in on some of the fun himself, lifting up Sero’s shirt just enough to scratch his nails against Sero’s wiggling lower belly. The boy sucked his stomach in as much as he could, but his overflow of now even higher-pitched giggles practically made his stomach tickle itself on Kirishima’s fingers.

“GAHAHAHA! NAHAHA! KIRISHIMAHAHA!” Sero cackled, throwing his head back against the wall, arms tugging uselessly against his bonds. Kirishima chuckled at the boy’s torment.

“Aww, whatsa’ matter Sero? We’ve barely even done anything!” Kiri teased, moving his fingers over towards the boy's sides, the boy’s torso shaking as his giggles frantically pushed out of his chest.

“I know, right? Poor guy’s so ticklish we barely have to touch him to get him to lose it,” Kaminari smiled, his right hand continuing it’s gentle but torturous assault on his armpit, while the other travelled to poke around his upper ribs. That sent a jolt through Sero’s body, his giggles turning to small yips and screeches. His nose was scrunched and his smile was so wide it practically ripped his face in half, eyes shut tight and he giggled helplessly.

“AHAH NAHAHA! NOT THAHAT!” Sero cackled as Denki turned to poking his ribs on both sides, playing them like a toddler would play a piano, sporadic pokes leaving the boy to jerk and writhe under his playful touch. “KAMIHIHI! IT TIHIHICKLES!”

“Aw, it does? What about this, does this tickle?~” Kirishima teased as he switched his gentle scratches to playful squeezes on the boy’s hips. Sero guffawed, doubling his body over as much as it could go in the bound position he was in. 

“OH GOHOHOD! PLEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAN’T!” Sero pleaded and cackled, his knees bouncing up and down in a mock attempt to kick his legs out. Kirishima noticed this, and experimentally squeezed at one of his thighs.

Sero screamed.

“AHAHAH! NOHOHO! NOT MY THIIHIGHS! PLEHEHEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHIHIHING!” Sero begged through fits of hysterical laughter, his eyes opening to stare at the redhead in plead.

“Aw, but Sero, I can’t just miss an opportunity like this!” Kirishima giggled, moving both his hands to squeeze up and down the boy’s lean but tender thighs. Sero’s laughter reached a new level of hysterical. It was loud and boisterous, his knuckles turning white from how hard he clenched them out beyond his sides. Denki pinched at his ribs with no mercy, and Sero could barely hold on.

“PLEHEHEASE! GUHUYS! I CAHAHAN’T! IT’S SO BAHAHAD! TICKLES SO BAHAHAD!” Sero laughed, pulling even harder at his bindings. His tormentors were too caught up giggling along with their ticklish victim to hear the sound of tape unsticking to the wall in front of them. Sero tugged and pulled as he wiggled subconsciously, his sensitive body just trying to get itself away from the playful torment being put upon itself. Then-

-RIIIIP!-

Sero fell on top of the boys unceremoniously with a yelp and a loud thud, all three of them falling to the floor in a heap of giggles.

“That was so mehehean!” Sero clutched his stomach as he rolled on the floor, still giggling from the previous assault and from the hilarious fall they had all just taken.

“Sorry man, it was too easy not to,” Denki chuckled, laughing as he stood himself up from the floor. He offered two hands to the giggling boys on the floor, pulling them up with a huff.

Once up and off the floor, the boys noticed that Sero still had tape on his arms. He whined as he realized what he was gonna have to do. 20 minutes and a lot of whines and cries of pain later, Sero finally got all the tape off his arms, even if he did have to sacrifice some arm hair in the process. 

“At least now you know how to get yourself out of your own tape! Just a couple tickles and you’re all good to go!” Kaminari smiled brightly at Sero who was rubbing at his now red and blotchy arms, the raven-haired boy not amused at his comment.

“I’ll get you both back for this, just you wait,” Sero said with a roll of his eyes. Yeah, he was definitely gonna get them for this. Too easy not to.

. . .

A /N : sorry if this was a little short! im trying not to overwork myself rn haha, hope you enjoyed it tho!! much love!! <33 

[peachhcs]

Love Languages Pt. 2

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

Summary: Pt.2 to Luke asking you what Love Languages are

Warnings: talk of drinking and cheating but that’s it

Word Count: 1.6k

Here is part two that you all have been asking for! I deeply apologize for how long it took me to get this up, school is really kicking my butt. I have a bunch of people asking to be on my taglist and I’m currently in the works of making one so comment or reblog or something telling me you want to be on my taglist! Make sure you specifiy for my series or for small blurbs/oneshots like this or both! 

Thank you so much for the amazing feedback! I love the comments and y’all are so amazing! 

I’m not sure if this will have a part 3?? but let me know if you want one haha. I won’t be tagging anyone in this because my tags got lost in my notifications, so if you want to be tagged again, make sure you read above! :)

PART 1

* * *

You didn’t mean to avoid Luke, it just kind of happened. Junior Year was no joke and it felt like every night and every weekend you had piles of homework to get done, so you sort of drifted from going to Julie’s house everyday. She didn’t mind, she understood just as much and kept you updated on how the band was doing. However, you still felt guilty for avoiding the boys. You were worried that Luke would think he scared you away by touching you, but you were feeling the exact opposite. You wanted to explore more and find out more but here you were, in your room at 12am trying to finish this nagging essay that was due in 8 hours. 

You felt your eyelids growing heavy but you shook your head, trying to keep yourself awake. The 3 monster drinks on your nightstand said enough about how much you were trying to keep yourself awake. You had 2 paragraphs left but you knew you were at a losing battle with yourself. The way your eyes were just glazing over at this point and rereading the same sentence over and over was becoming a very evident indication that you needed sleep. Before you could even think about quitting for the night, there was a noise from the side of your room and a grunt. Your eyes quickly darted over to where the noise came from and there stood Luke with that magenta pull over that you really liked. 

“Luke?” His eyes quickly darted over to you, clearly surprised to still see you awake.

“Y/n..hey..” He started and you pushed your laptop away to give him your full attention. 

“What are you..doing here?..” You weren’t really sure why he was here and you felt a small bit of tension in the room from avoiding him for the past few weeks. 

“I uh..came to see you..” His voice was small and you pushed your eyebrows together in confusion. 

“At 12 in the morning?..” You knew ghosts didn’t really sleep but it was still a strange sight to see Luke in your bedroom this late at night. 

“Yup..” He trails off and pushes his glance down to the floor. You raised your eyebrow, knowing he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. You two were still best friends after all, so you could read him like an open book. 

“Luke, seriously. What are you doing here?” You ask trying to push an answer out of him. He finally meets your gaze again and you see his small expression on his face.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” 

You blinked a few times at his bluntness. This time you were the one to avoid his gaze. You picked at your fingernails slightly, knowing Luke was watching you and waiting for an answer. 

“I don't mean too.. School’s been tough and stuff.” You say cringing at how lame that sounded even though it was true. Luke stayed silent for a moment, trying to decide if you were lying to him or not. You avoided his eyes and kept your glance locked on the floor. 

“Did I do something wrong? Did I overstep by touching you? I didn’t mean to scare you or anything..” Luke trails off and you frown. You quickly shake your head to tell him no.

“No, no, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been really swamped with homework..” You grimace to yourself for coming back to your really lame excuse. You watch as Luke steps a little closer, testing the waters. When you don’t object to him moving closer, he takes a slow seat on your bed beside you. 

“You look tired..” He points out, gently reaching to touch your cheek. It warms both of your bodies as your skin makes contact. His hands were..warm..and comforting. You weren’t sure what you expected but it definitely wasn't this. Who knew ghosts were warm? 

“I told you I’ve been swamped with homework.” You chuckle and this time Luke chuckles along with you. He gently pulls his hand away and folds them into his lap. You stare down at your feet for a few moments trying to figure out what to say next. This felt like completely new territory the two of you were exploring and by the energy and growing tension in the room; this was a little bit scary. 

“Do you think you know..why we can..touch?” You ask hesitantly. Julie was filling you in here and there at school, but it wasn’t much and they didn’t seem to come up with anything as to why you had the “powers” too. 

“No..it’s still all confusing. We think Julie’s mom has something to do with us being connected to Julie but we don’t know about you.” Luke says, side eyeing you and you weren’t sure if that was a hint for you to talk about your past or not.  

You didn’t really open up about your past. No one had ever really asked so you never really talked. Julie knew a little bit, she knew that your mom and dad fought a lot and you didn’t like being at home that much, but that was about it. You didn’t talk about it further than that, so when you could feel Luke trying to dig into your past more, you shrugged. 

“My parents don’t talk much about stuff. I don’t know.” You say, keeping it short and simple. Luke frowns a little at your answer, but he knows not to push so he doesn’t. The two of you sit in more silence beside one another. You picked at your finger nails while Luke’s eyes travelled around your room. 

“I ran out on my mom. She didn’t believe in my dream and though dropping out of high school was the worst possible idea. We got into a fight and I ran out. That was the last time I saw her face to face. I died before I could make amends with her.” You glance at Luke, surprised at his openness. Even though you guys were best friends, talking about stuff like this was kind of off limits. The memory hurt too much so you never talked about at home, parent problems. 

“Wow..I’m sorry. That must have been hard on both of you.” You admit and Luke nods.

“It was, but Julie helped me make amends with them last year.” Luke smiles a little and you smile too. You knew his little story was a play to get you to start talking so you took in a little breath. 

“My dad cheated on my mom a few years ago with..a few other women. My mom keeps trying to make excuses for him to keep him around. They fight a lot because my dad doesn’t want to stay but my mom keeps pushing it. They’re both pretty heavy drinkers, too. It’s not a very good mix.” You explain. It felt weird to say it out loud, but it also felt nice to talk about it with someone.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I can’t imagine how difficult that is.” Luke empathizes but you only shrug. 

“It’s a good thing Julie let’s me come over so much. She’s been there for me for it all and I really love her for that.” You say, smiling at the thought of Julie’s friendship. You really couldn’t ask for a better best friend to get through it all. 

“Yeah, Julie’s really great. She does it all.” Luke laughs and you nod in agreement. More silence fills in between you two but it was comfortable silence. This time you lean your head on Luke’s shoulder and he pulls his arm around you to bring you closer. You could feel the tension slowly fading away. Sometimes all it took was one meaningful conversation to break the barrier. 

“Oh yeah, I saw these on my way over here and I thought you might like them.” Luke smiles and you watch as he digs into his pocket before pulling out a small bouquet of those pretty Aster flowers. You sit up a little, instantly recognizing them. They were your grandma’s favorite before she passed away when you were little. 

“Asters?” You ask and Luke glances at you a little surprised.

“Is that what they’re called? They’re really pretty.” Luke smiles and hands them to you. You smile, smelling them and instantly getting that fresh scent of your grandma’s house. 

“They are very pretty. Thank you.” You smile warmly and Luke smiles again. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome. They just reminded me of you.” Luke says and you chuckle. That was something your grandma had said to you a lot. 

“You should probably get going. It’s getting late and the boys are probably wondering where you are.” You chuckle, glancing at how much later it had gotten and you still had to wake up for school the next morning. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see you at Julie’s tomorrow?” Luke stands up and sends you a hopeful glance. You chuckle and nod a yes. 

“Yeah, see you there, Patterson.” Luke smiles at your response. You watch as he hesitates to leave for a moment and you’re about to question him when in one quick motion he plants a kiss on your cheek before poofing out. 

You sit there, a little stunned, before allowing a small blush to creep its way onto your cheeks. You got up to put your flowers in your little vase on your desk. It added a nice touch to your room. If Luke hadn’t come in to make you more alert, you would have missed it. On your desk by the vase was a small piece of paper with writing on it. Upon examining it further, it was one of the last notes your grandma had written to you before she passed away. You thought you had lost that somewhere in your numerous papers, but there it was, front and center on your desk. 

I will be with you, today, tomorrow, and forever. You just have to look for the signs - Grandma 

[levihan-drabbles]

Hey guys !!! I hope everyone in this wonderful fandom is doing amazing <3 Recently, my friend and I have come up with a very interesting and fun event that we're hoping you all would like to participate in. We haven't really seen surprise prompts and drabble weeks for Levihan before, so we decided to make one! Also a very fun contest with cool awards too.

Getting straight to the point, the reason why this event is different from an usual prompt week is because we are only going to be focusing on drabbles here. (And also because the prompts won't be predetermined and given to you beforehand)

(Note: this is also open to artists and other content creators. We will be making another post tomorrow explaining how the event works for them. Till then, the writers can continue)

✒ A drabble is a short work of fiction of precisely one hundred words in length. The purpose of the drabble is brevity, testing the author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in a confined space. (YeS I stole it from google)

As a writer myself, due to the limited word limit, drabbles can be a bit of a struggle sometimes, and that is primarily the reason why this whole event is also somewhat more of a writing practice (other than the fact that we need to get those numbers on AO3 up haha)

Without wasting much time, let's get straight into the details, and how this is really going to work, what are surprise prompts and the contest and its awards of course.

▶ How long are your entries really supposed to be? Well Google says 100 words but that's way too unfair so your fic should be = to or under 1000 words. The maximum you can go up to is 1500.

▶ Are there any certain prompts/themes these drabbles should be on? Yes, and that's what we are going to talk about next.

▶ And what are surprise prompts? Okay so remember back when in school, your annoying math teacher would take a surprise quiz out of nowhere without informing you? Yeah something like that but its not that bad. Also, its a lot more fun than math.

Basically your prompts will be given to you a day before you need to post them. so its really just a writing practice and there is no pressure, so don't think about the quality or something. This is about scribbling down something quick without a lot of planning.

The prompts are also going to be chosen from an OTP prompt generator, so they are going to be uhm interesting and fun to work.

We have a theme for each day (like angst, fluff etc) and the mods will choose 4 random prompts beforehand for each of these days. At the time of giving the prompts to the participants, we will run a machine to choose one randomly out of the 4. So even the mods don't know what the actual prompt is going to be for the day.

The themes for each day (except Wednesdays and Thursdays, we will get to them later)

Angst Mondays

Trope Tuesdays

Fluff Fridays

Comic Saturdays (this is for the artists, so you can ignore it)

Smut Sundays

Now, here's the challenge (and probably my favorite part about the event) -- The prompts you get are not exclusively going to be in accordance with the themes for each day.

For example, you can definitely get this for Angst Mondays :

Prompt : "Levi having to rescue Hange from a pack of kittens/puppies."

Now its up to you, with the power of levihan on your side, to write an angsty drabble based on this prompt, (okay fine, the prompts probably won't be this off bat but still)

**Exception, : for trope Tuesdays, you won't be getting a prompt but a particular trope like (enemies to lovers, protective levi, caring hange etc)

▶ What time will you exactly get the prompt then? So basically, if Levihan drabble week begins on Tuesday, 25th May, you will getting your trope (prompt for the other days) around Monday afternoon-ish. And you are allowed to post until Tuesday midnight, before Wednesday begins. (Wednesday and Thursday are contest days which we will talk about later, so you don't have to worry about getting another prompt on Tuesday and finishing it on Wednesday itself)

▶How will you get your prompt? And any other details? We'll be making another post later where we will dive deep into the timezone specifics and how you will get the prompt, and what you will tag your posts with so we can see your stuff and reblog it.

You will get the prompt for fluff Friday around Thursday afternoon, and then the writers will have a break as Saturday is for artists. Friday night, you will get the prompt for smut Sunday you will have Saturday as a break in between before posting your smut on Sunday.

The same formula applies to angst Mondays.

1st June, Tuesday, last day of the week will be the prize day. We are gonna talk about the prize day in the next section.

Wednesday and Thursdays (The contest days)

So, first of all, this is optional. If you are participating in the rest of the drabble week, its okay if you leave to opt out of the contest. Similarly, you can also just participate in the contest and not do the other days. It's up to you.

The people participating in the contest would be divided into two groups. There are going to be two winners.

Suppose we have group 1 and group 2, a random participant from each group will be chosen. This chosen participant is called the selector. Its purely luck and a machine that chooses the selector. The selector gets to choose a prompt (from a list the mods will give them) Suppose the said selector is from group 1, then the prompt they chose will be given to group two, and everyone in group two have to write on that. The selector from group two will do the same thing for group 1 members.

All of the preparation for the contest will be done beforehand, and the selectors will be informed before the week begins. The selected prompts will be given to both groups Tuesday night. By Thursday evening their works should be posted.

The word limit for Contest Drabbles can be extended to 3000 words. This is ONLY for the contest.

After all works are submitted by Thursday evening, there will be a voting period which will stretch till 1st June, Tuesday. During this period, group 1 will read group 2's stuff, and group 2 will do the same for group 1. Then they will vote for their favorite fics accordingly, the fic with the maximum votes from both groups wins. The mods will be supervising this, and reading the stuff too.

▶How do we vote? All the details related to voting will also be explained in a different post.

▶What are the awards? Okay, so one thing unique about drabble week is that there are going to be no permanent mods. We will probably have these events rather frequently, and the mods will change for each event. The mods will decide the awards so different awards for different months.

This month, the gifts are :

Well detailed and long comments on 2 chapters of a fic of your choice. These can also be two different one shots if you want.

Beta reading for a few (3-4 chapters) for any fic the winner wants (the other details can be discussed in dms)

The winners will have the opportunity/chance to become mods for the next week, next month. This is also a great way to make new friends and work with them while holding an event!

To participate, PLEASE FILL OUT THIS FORM. The last date to fill in is 20th May, so do it before that. We'll be making another post for the artists soon, posting it tomorrow most likely. You will be constantly updated, so don't worry!

if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask. Thank you so much, we will be looking forward for your participation! Much love.

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 6: Robo-bonding

Summary: Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

Robo-bonding

Rick usually loved the sound of crickets at night. On camping trips, he’d make it his mission to get his family to sit outside and appreciate them for at least one night. Truly, the aura of peace and serenity they brought was unmatched.

But now, he’d give anything for them to shut up and stop adding to the awkward atmosphere.

It was their first stop after a full day’s worth of driving. The route to Silicon Valley would take at least two days and the Mitchells had decided to break the journey.

Usually they’d stop at a motel for the night, but ever since they’d technically been harboring fugitives that was no longer an option. Or at least that was the case for the moment, since Rick was happy to leave the bots in the car overnight as long as they were both awake and feeling responsible.

His wife and son were currently in the backseat together, curled up closely against one another as they slept. Monchi was snoring away on his back beside them. Rick had quickly pulled out his camera and snagged a quick photo of the heartwarming sight.

They’d put Eric (actually, Deborahbot had since he was much too heavy for any of them to lift) into the trunk. Deborahbot himself had sat in silence next to his robot friend for most of that first stretch of the journey. He’d only spoken when Linda had asked him directly if he was alright, and once again when the family were saying goodnight to each other.

But when it was clear that Deborahbot wasn’t going to sleep (or go into rest-mode or whatever those robots did) when everyone else was, Rick had listened to his inner Linda and asked him to join him in the front.

Even without his wife’s guidance, Rick knew deep down that it wasn’t healthy to not take a break from watching his brother like a hawk.

So that’s where they were. Rick sitting in the driver’s seat, Deborah sitting in the passenger’s seat, and between them only the crickets had something to say.

“So, uh,” Rick eventually began in a low voice, knowing that the android wouldn’t start a conversation himself, “this is all kinda sudden.”

Deborahbot didn’t reply.

“...Right.” Rick was at a genuine loss for words. He’d obviously talked to the bots before, but never really talked to them. They came as a pair and were always sort of doing their own thing. You could guide them and give them instructions and stuff, sure, but they only really got into deep conversations with each other or maybe sometimes Linda. And even then, it was Eric that tended to do most of the talking.

“It must be hard, huh?”

Deborahbot did not lower his voice when he replied. “What do you mean?”

“SHHH!” Rick pointed at his sleeping family.

Deborahbot 5000 hung his head slightly. “Apologies, Mother’s Husband.”

“No no, you’re good.” Rick wished he’d stop calling him that, though he couldn’t think of an alternative.

“But I mean, um…” he continued. “You bots never leave each other’s side. It must be tough with him gone.”

“But he is not gone.” Deborah said. “He is in the trunk.”

Rick sighed. “That’s not what I…”

The problem with robots is that they weren’t great with picking up on subtext. But to be fair, neither were the Mitchell family.

“Still, you’re worried, right? About him? Heck, even I’m worried and I barely know you guys. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. If you do... feel.”

There was a short pause. Rick had never realised that robots needed thinking time. Or maybe it was just a defective robot thing.

“I am worried about us, yes.”

Us..?

“Aw shoot I totally forgot they’re after you too!” Rick exclaimed quietly. “Have you had any more attacks since, or..?”

Deborahbot turned his head to face forward before answering. As far as Rick could tell, he didn’t have any cameras on the side of his head so the gesture must have just been for dramatic effect. “Not since this morning. Now that my brother is turned off, they can access him without resistance.”

Deborah said it so casually that Rick almost missed the implication of the words.

“Wait, wait wait wait, hold on,” he said as he shuffled to face Deborahbot better, “what does that mean? You mean they can still get to him when he’s like this? They’re, what, doing stuff to him as we speak?”

“Yes.” Deborahbot answered bluntly.

This was bad. All this time, Rick had assumed that the reason Eric was switched off was to stop Pal Labs from hacking him (or whatever the technical term was). But if that just made it easier for them…

“So then why are we even doing this?” He asked, his voice raising a little. “If he’s just gonna get mind-controlled anyway, why are we taking you guys right to them?!”

Deborahbot’s head turned to face him again. “We are going to ask them to stop.” He said it firmly but there was an edge of doubt creeping into his voice.

“But that was to stop them before they took over Eric, wasn’t it? What if they can’t change back what they’ve already done or something? It might already be too late- I don’t know how this works!”

“Wh-What if…” Deborahbot’s voice was barely audible.

“Yeah, man, what if?!” Rick whispered angrily. “You should’ve thought about this beforehand! We should’ve thought about it before we went along with this spontaneous plan!”

“What if…”

It was then that Rick realised what he’d said and who he’d said it to.

“Oh, Deborah, I-”

“What if they delete his memory?” Deborahbot started to speak faster. “What if they reset him? What if they fix him? What if they break him completely? What if-”

“Deborah…”

This was a mistake. Rick shouldn’t have brought it up, or at least not in front of the poor android. The two were like twins, practically joined at the hip, and were so childish at times that catastrophizing in front of one of them regarding the other was probably the worst thing he could've done. Even though his own concerns about Eric were very real and genuine, Deborahbot didn’t need to hear them.

It had taken 18 years to start getting things right with Katie. He wanted to have another chance to get it right with the bots.

“Listen, that’s not what’s happening.” Rick said, putting a lot of effort into sounding as convincing as possible. “They probably just want you guys back. But once we get there and show ‘em you’re harmless, they’ll let you go! Don’t listen to what I said, you know how I get angry for no reason, haha.”

Deborahbot seemed to think it over. Sometimes, Rick wished that they had proper faces so that he could gauge their expressions properly. It would make his life a lot easier.

At some point during that conversation, the crickets had stopped chirping. He hadn’t even noticed.

“...Do you really think so, Mother’s Husband?”

Rick smiled reassuringly. “‘Course I do, Deb.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Rick sincerely hoped that he’d mended the pit of fear he’d opened within Deborahbot. It was funny, the rift that had once been between him and Katie was caused by technology. Now he was trying to fix a rift with a piece of technology itself.

Deborahbot seemed content to just sit in silence like that for the rest of the night, but Rick wanted to get some sleep.

He nodded toward the trunk. “Hey, you might wanna get some rest. Don’t stay up all night thinking about this.”

“But-”

“Ah ah, no buts.” Rick waggled his finger. “That’s an order.”

“Ok!”

Dangit, for a moment there it had felt so much like he was talking to another human being that he’d completely forgotten to mind his language. He didn’t want it to seem like he was forcing him.

Deborahbot had already opened the door to move back into the trunk with Eric. "Goodnight, Mother's Husband."

“Deborah! Before you go-” Deborah stopped mid-motion to listen to him- “maybe cut it out with the whole ‘Mother’s Husband’ thing.”

Rick couldn’t believe he was about to do this. It was a step that Linda wanted him to take but he’d never quite felt ready for. But the bots needed family now more than ever, and who else was going to give it to them?

“Just call me ‘Dad’.”

Deborahbot cocked his head for a second (long enough for Rick to consider backtracking) before he exited the car and stood up straight.

“Goodnight, Dad.”

Comments make my day! :)

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 101 (Mirror’s Edge)

Summary:  Caitlyn is a thief looking for the next big score. Used to taking wristwatches and wallets from rich folk, she's aiming to take down bigger game as she discovers the hidden magical world within her hometown. Her first mark is an unassuming shopkeeper and his collect of ancient relics. All set with a plan, Caitlyn makes her move. Though plans rarely go off without a hitch.

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are all well and staying safe. So the next chapter of my little side project is here! Honestly wasn't planning on getting back to this so soon but I was having fun worldbuilding and character creating and here we are. You can blame my friend @hains-mae for enabling me.

Right so the next thing I write will probably be the part two to this then the next chapter of the Underground. Umm that's really it for me so have a great week, be safe, wear your mask, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Please feel free to reblog, share, leave kudos or leave comments with things you liked or feedback if you read it on a03. I promised I'd try to promote myself more and it feels weird haha.

E is out, have a great one everyone! and here’s the link to the doobly do 

---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76014323

There was an arrogance that seemed deeply etched into every aspect of the magical world. She stood among valuable, ancient relics from throughout human history: Vases from Greece lined the shelf above her. A row of Roman gladius blades in various states of decay with only a flimsy glass case between them and Caitlyn’s pocket. Tarnished Victorian era slivered lockets left about like loose change.

Millions dollars worth of the past and she, a stranger, was left unattended with it all.

Technically she wasn’t supposed to be in here with the locked door and close sign but the fact in the 5 minutes it took her to pick the lock and scout the first floor without a single soul attempting to stop her really was a testimony to the haughtiness of the ‘shopkeeper’.

It had been only few months since she saw past the false reality that was superimposed onto hers and she was still readjusting: Magic was real. Elves, dwarves, little halfing folk? Real. People shooting bolts of lightning and flames while riding storm clouds? Real. The guy who kept awkwardly hitting on her every time she tried to get a hotdog from the cart at the corner? Just a regular creep BUT could’ve been magical.

Even their currency was a show of their excessive wealth: Sliver, gold, platinum coins Actual platinum traded away like it was nothing! People starving and helpless on the streets and these bastards just walked with some of the rarest metal on the planet in their pockets like chump change.

Anger bubbled within her stomach along with self righteousness and a bit of her breakfast but she took a deep calming breath, closing her bluish gray eyes. ‘Calm down Cait’ she scolded herself ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve seen excessive wealth squandered and wasted. You’re here for a job so do it and never come back.’

She glanced around the waiting room she found herself in. It was off to the side of the shopping front andthere were very few things of interest in the tiny room: Some old, tattered chairs that had seen better days. A very, very tacky abstract painting hung over a bricked up fireplace. There was a scattering of magazines older than her with loose stables and free roaming pages everywhere.

A place of show and very little use.

“Hello my angel.”

Caitlyn seized up. She had been so caught up in her rage she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone coming down the stairs. Three stories with a handful of people about and nary a sound could heard. Must be some sort of magic.

She shook herself out of her stupor, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. She forced her lips to curve into the cutest, lost smile she could muster. She opened her purple jacket a bit further so the guy could get a clearer view of her tight white tank top and running shorts.

“Helpless. Remember you’re helpless.” She whispered to herself before whirling about, her long black hair with dyed purple coloring flowed behind her gracefully as if she was an actress in those stupid hair product commercials.

“Oh!” she spoke with mock surprise, scrunching her face cutely as possible “I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m lost and the door was open and sorry!”

She leaned forward, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck as she gave whoever it was a better view of her outfit.

Hook, line and sinker.

“No problem sweetie. No need to lie to me.”

Hook, line and sunk apparently.

She blinked, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. She glanced up to find a strangely dressed man with the goofiest grin.

He was cute in a ‘I dress as an obscure, indie character for cosplay’kind of way: His messy, unkempt black hair sat under a black fedora. He wore a long black trench coat that had seen better days. At least he preferred more colors than black on black. His collared shirt was a nice baby blue with an equally nice light brown vest. Black dress pants because men’s fashion is incredibly boring and shiny loafers to completed the look. Whatever the look was.

She expected him to be taking a good look at her attire.

What she found was him staring at her.

His warm dark brown eyes were soft, gentle and he refused to break his gaze from her bluish grays even though there were more tempting sights on offer.

She was on the back foot. No wandering glances, no self pleasured smiles. Not even a creepy chuckle. Just a strangely dressed, inch shorter guy looking like he just found the love of his life in this moment.

“I…” she cleared her throat “Umm….did you hear me?”

He gave a quick nod “Yeah. You broke in and you were trying to cover your tracks.”

It wasn’t that he guessed correctly what was she up to that threw her off. It was how casually he said it. More discussing the weather than committing a felony.

She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to proceed from whatever this was. There were always some people who caught on about her intentions fairly quickly but no one had ever been so….indifferent about it.

“I don’t work here.” the man offered, slowly closing the distance between them but leaving the doorframe wide open “I really don’t care that you’re here to rob the place.”

This has to be a trap. This had to be. No one was ever this….laidback. Were the other goons on the side waiting to jump her when she bolted? Was she on camera and he was letting her go knowing full well he had all the evidence he needed to track her down?

Or maybe he really didn’t care. He seemed more interested in talking than stopping her and there was this strange presence about him. A calm she’d never felt before even when her parents were alive. It was odd and foreign to her but she felt safe. Protected.

She shook her head, slowly inching closer to the doorway. The man made no attempt stop her. He just stood there, smiling, hands in his pocket.

The rational part of her brain said to run. This whole thing was botched and it was better to cut her losses than find out first hand what magical creatures could do to her. The less rational side of her head told her to wait, to talk this guy. Lying was obviously pointless but she had a feeling he would answer any questions she’d had and she had plenty.

“So…” she rose a suspicious eyebrow “Not gonna stop me?”

He shook his head “I wish you’d stay but I understand if you don’t want to be found in Andor’s shop. He’s one of those new elves. Less honor more power.”

She blinked. He said elves right? Just threw it out there like it was an everyday matter of fact and not a deeply held secret of her hometown.

“Elves aren’t real.’ Caitlyn said matter of fact.

“We both know better than that.” The man gave a bright smile.

“What do you want?”

The words spilled out of her mouth despite her best attempts but this guy was throwing her off so badly she forgot how to function.

“Talk to you of course.”

The worst kind of people were the sincere ones. They were sappy and gooey. They just so happy it was sickening. They had to be up to something. They had to some scheme or scam or something they were waiting to drop on you. No one was that happy, that purely honest. They were the liars who were so good they convinced themselves they were good people. No one was good and everyone had a dark corner in their soul they hid from the world.

Caitlyn knew she had plenty in whatever was left of her ratty soul.

“And if we talk? Will you let me go?”

The man nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caitlyn licked her lips anxiously “Promise?”

Promise? What was she 12? No one kept their promises. Not even her.

He placed his hand over his heart “Cross my heart.”

“Let’s talk,”

He jerked his head towards the door “Outside. Don’t want you to ruin your heist.”

-----

Today was not going how she was expecting. She was thought she was going to break into an elf ran front, scout the area and come back in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been expecting to have coffee and bread with a random stranger on the street.

Well she had coffee, mystery man opted for hot chocolate.

They stood in a strangely comfortable silence a block from Andor’s. The man offered to pay for whatever she wanted and she took him up on it. Couple of baked goods, a sandwich for lunch, some water and of course her cup of wake up juice. If he was mad at her for her splurging at his expense, he hid it well. He just took his coco and some fancy elvish bread. Looked good but Caitlyn wasn’t up for trying other beings food. She didn’t know how it would sit with her stomach.

The elf who ran the cart, a few months ago human to her, waved goodbye to the pair as he counted the human cash the man gave him.

The trench coat cosplay stood patiently, sipping his drink and waited for her to break the silence.

She refused to break the silence first. Not wanting to sound too eager. Eagerness was a weakness and this guy was already throwing her off her rhythm.

“I’m Finnrick by the way.”

She turned to him, unsure if he was messing with her or not.

He gave her the same goofy smile “Finnrick Drift, private investigator.”

“Ah huh.” She nodded slowly “So you’re a magical P.I.? Like elves cheating on their wives, dwarves dodging their taxes P.I.?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders “Ironically elves like dodging on their taxes more than dwarves.”

“Right.”

“You’re new to the whole other side of Newton Haven huh?”

She glanced at her coffee “Lived here my whole life. Really makes me wonder if I lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all mad here Alice.”

Why was she talking to him? Why was she being honest? This was weirder and getting weirder every passing second.

Finnrick changed subject “So, robbing Andor? Any particular loot you are after?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes “Trying to fish something out of me Finny?”

“Guilty as charged” He beamed with pure happiness “Don’t want you wasting your time on shiny trinkets he cares nothing about.”

Caitlyn remained silent. She wasn’t used to such transparency. Normally this would be the point where the guy would lie or pretend to not have heard or awkwardly switch the subject but Finnrick answered openly and honestly. So far.

“So” Caitlyn straightened up, pulling her jacket wide open “What do you think? Great outfit right?”

Finnrick turned to her with a grin, his cheeks turning a pinkish hue as his eyes locked onto hers “Your body is absolutely lovely but your eyes even more so.”

Caitlyn could feel the flush coming. She coughed loudly, focusing on her drink as she willed the embarrassment away.

Finnrick chuckled lightly but returned to his drink. The silence returned, still comfortable as before.

This is was bad whatever this was. She needed to regain some level of control and stop acting like a teenage girl on her first garbage fire of a date.

“So” she cleared her throat “Mister P.I. what would you recommend taking if not all those millions of dollars of historical items he leaves about?”

Finnrick crushed the foam cup effortlessly as he gestured to the third floor of the shop “His office has a pretty simple safe. He keeps loads of paperwork. His various contracts, accounts, treasure hoards”

Caitlyn scoffed in disbelief even though her eyes shone with excitement “Treasure hoards? Elves? I thought dragons were the hoarders. Weren’t elves supposed to be above all that lovely corruption?”

“No one is above corruption.’ Finnrick answered “Elves are just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned back with a cocky swagger “And why, pray tell, would I care about boring paperwork?”

“Because it really hurt him in the pride.”

Damn Finnrick was good. Not only she was eager to learn more, she could already feel the smug satisfaction of bringing a powerful prick down a peg fill her cause.

Finnrick seemed to notice this because he went on “Andor is a young elf. 100 years give or take.”

“A hundred years is young?”

“When you live a thousand years every other race is a child to you. Andor’s old man is a swell guy. He’s one of those good elves you see in Tolkien.”

“Tolkien?” Caitlyn furrowed her brow “He wrote the books that those Lord of the Rings films are based on right?”

“Yeah actually.”

“Oh and the Hob…”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finnrick quickly added “But see the problem is Andor’s old man doesn’t know his son has become the small time crime lord. Thinks he’s running an antique business selling off old junk that was gathering dust in the family’s attic.”

Something clicked into place for Caitlyn “Wait. Junk from the attic? You mean all those relics on the shop floor?! THAT’S OLD JUNK!?”

Finnrick gave a casual shrug “Elves are weird. Andor don’t know shit about selling, all his money comes from his illegal business practices. That’s how he keeps the shop afloat.”

“I see” Caitlyn spoke, her bluish grays sparkling with mischievous intent “If those records disappeared, his shop sinks and he has to run back home to daddy.”

“And out of the city” Finnrick finished with a smile “And those records are pretty valuable to loads of people. Easier to fence and less messy to explain than a long lost Greek vase showing up in someone’s private collection. You’d get good prices for those hoard locations alone. Better than trying to carry tons of stolen and lost treasure back to your house.”

Caitlyn eyed Finnrick carefully “And you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Trying to do your ‘civic’ duty to our fair city?”

“Among other things” Finnrick admitted “But mostly for the greater good.”

“Pfft, greater good? Yeah sure buddy. Like you know what’s the greater good.”

“Will you do it?”

Caitlyn paused, allowing all this information sink in. It was much better than she had planned and while she wasn’t sure of Finnrick’s angle, he seemed honest enough. Of course everyone seems honest enough the first time you meet them.

“Let’s say I do” she spoke, placing her hands on her hips to play the part “What’s in it for you?”

“A favor” He replied simply.

She rose a curious eyebrow “A favor? It’s not date with me, is it?”

“No, I plan to earn that one myself.” Finnrick answered cheerfully.

Caitlyn coughed “Fine, good. Not a date. Least you’re not a creep. But a favor is pretty vague.”

“It’ll be simple I promise.”

Caitlyn narrowed her gaze suspiciously “You promise?”

Finnrick put his hand over his heart again “Cross my heart.”

Caitlyn took a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

Caitlyn offered her hand towards the trench coat cosplayer “You got yourself a deal.”

He gently took her hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. She was surprised when, as he pulled back, she felt a strange metallic item left behind.

She looked at the crystal butterfly hair clip he placed in her hand: It was a beautiful with sliver hues and multi-colored shards of glass across its wings.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

Caitlyn felt uneasy with the ornament in her palm: It felt cold and distant like it was feeling her out and wasn’t liking what it found.

“It’s attuning to you.” Finnrick explained “It’s syncing up to your whole aura.”

“Aura?” Caitlyn shot him a glare of disbelief “This isn’t one of those new age hippie things is it?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s a magical item. Yours specifically. Everything alive has a deep and very convoluted to explain connection to this plane. The hairclip is trying to match yours so you and only you can use it.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Because it doesn’t know you yet. It will.”

Caitlyn felt unease about whatever this was. Part of her wanted to toss it as far as she could. The worst part was she felt the item probing at her, changing temperatures as if trying find a comfortable setting for both of them. Burning one moment and too cold the next. This was magic and it made her felt like she knew nothing.

But part of her felt it slowly and subtly trying to match her, focusing on her and on her place in the universe. It felt more natural each passing moment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious what mister detective over here was letting her borrow.

Caitlyn blew a strand of hair out of her face “How long does this usually take?”

“An hour.” Finnrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone “Oh shoot I have a meeting to get to.”

He turned to leave and suddenly Caitlyn felt alone. Awkward just standing in the street without someone to talk to.

“Wait!” She reached for him but quickly pulled back when he faced her “….any advice?”

Finnrick scratched his chin for a moment “Red tiles. Avoid them or they’ll blast you off the roof.”

“G-gotcha.” Caitlyn didn’t want to know what blast off the roof was code for “A-and the hairclip? What’s it do?”

Finnrick gave a cheeky grin and Caitlyn could feel her face flush “I guess you’ll have to find out angel. Bye for now. May we meet again soon.”

And like that, he was off. Strolling down the straight with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.

Caitlyn glanced at the ornate hairclip in her hand.

Turns out there was a lot more to this magical world than she thought.