#she was even nervous for a bit which was. satisfying. like she absolutely had realized how mean she'd been to me.

[thestarmaker]

Sometimes I think about how my high school of ~100 kids per grade had such a different vibe than a lot of bigger ones. Yeah there was a lot of loyal "friend" groups and infighting and kicking people out drama, and don't get me started on the fighting-over-boys nastiness that I've witnessed, but people were generally pretty civil to each other otherwise. There wasn't that much bullying aside from a few cases of One Person Hates You because everyone's family knew each other on at least a surface level and we knew word would get around to Everyone. It was awfully funny tho, even me and the girl who Hated Me for like 3 years in middle school/early high school openly talked abt being civil just to not be miserable all the time at school

[cissyenthusiast010155]

33 with Soft Country Narcissa? I saw kinda thinking like Y/N has really bad anxiety when she is excited or nervous about something. So she starts scratching her arms until the point they bleed and then moves to scratch the next thing. Something kinda like that if you can please? If you can then Thank You!

Absolutely. This request made my day so much! I love love love that you requested Country!Cissy 🥰🥹 Hope you Enjoy ♥️

Everybody Needs Somebody ~Country Cissy ~Narcissa Malfoy xFem Student!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#33. “Don’t do that... Let me see you.”

Warnings: angst, self-harm, high anxiety, implied anxiety attack, age gap (all legal)

Enjoy (:

Those dreadful Deatheater meetings always sent a pit to your stomach and your mind into a frenzy.

You were at Malfoy Manor for the summer (Draco had insisted). But every time they had one of those damned meetings, you scurried upstairs, slamming the door to your room and collapsing on the floor, hyperventilating and tears running down your face.

This time it was so bad, you couldn’t keep your hands still, they were so shaky. And the next thing you knew, you were lightly scratching your arm in circular patterns. It felt slightly soothing, like a calming second in the chaos. But soon, the overwhelming feeling came back, so you scratched harder. Again and again this cycle repeated, until both of your arms were all scratched up and bloody. You began to panic again and reached for your available thighs. But just as you got to scratching those, a knock came from behind you.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched. You quickly got up and scurried over to your bed, making sure to cover your arms with the covers. The person knocked again.

“Darlin’…? It’s me, Aunty Cissy (Mrs. Malfoy had insisted you call her ‘Cissy’)” her soft, southern voice spoke.

“Would it be alright’ if I come in…?”

“Yea sorry come in…!” You croaked, your voice rough from your crying.

Cissy entered the room, with her hips swaying a bit faster than usual and concern written all over her face. You were embarrassed and ashamed and you couldn’t meet her gaze. Everything immediately clicked for the blonde.

“Darlin’… Are you alright’…?” She gently asked, approaching the bed slowly.

You shook your head, trying to keep the tears from starting to fall again but failing. Instinctually, you went to rub the tears from your face, and that’s when she saw them. You immediately realized what you’d done and scurried your arms back under the covers.

“Don’t do that... Let me see you.” Cissy concerningly tutted, coming quickly over to the bed.

You gulped and pulled your arms out. Cissy’s eyes widened and she was quick to pull the rest of the cover away to also reveal your partially scratched up thighs.

“Oh Darlin’…”

Cissy looked at you with caring and distraught eyes. She then left to go into the bathroom and came back with some medical supplies.

“Let me clean you up…” she mumbled, like caring for you was her second nature.

You let the southern woman clean off your wounds and bandage them up until she was satisfied. Then she went to put the supplies away, coming soon back and standing by the bed.

“Scooch.”

You did as you were told, scooching over without another word. Cissy promptly joined you on your bed, opening her arms for you to fall into, which you did so instinctually. The two of you passed time with Cissy caressing you in her hold, while your breathing slowly evened out. Eventually Cissy broke the silence.

“I’m here if you wanna talk about it, sweet thing…” her sultry yet gentle tone reassured you.

You nodded and recognition of her words, and simply nuzzled even further into her frame. Cissy took your gesture and lovingly kissed your forehead.

“Get some rest, Darlin’. I’ll be here when you wake up…” She gently spoke, as you drifted off into a calm, undisturbed sleep.

~~~

Narcissa Malfoy nee. Black Masterlist

[c4rdsharp]

JULES UPHAM. ( @closedcoffins )

“Um–?! Hello, Mr. Gandor.” The greeting comes out half-surprised, like he wasn’t expecting to see the man in his own jazz hall. It really goes to show how disconnected from this side of danger Jules really is; the sorts of people with too much money and power for their own good on the legitimate business side of things would never be seen in their own lowly establishments. His own parents had been that sort of people.

The world of the mob really is different… Or maybe it’s just this one that’s strange. Kate had said the Gandor family was a little different from the average crime family, but it’s not like Jules has any point for comparison besides the Lemures, which had been their own beast entirely.

Either way, if it’s like this, he’s even more nervous. He’d been prepared for there to at least be a middle-man to talk to.

“I— Mrs. Kate sent me here. Kate Gandor. To ask about working at your jazz hall…” He anxiously glances around the room, even more unnerved to find that it’s mostly empty save for a few people whose general body language suggests they’re either regulars or affiliated with the family completely—but that’s just based on his own experience working in restaurants. It’s true that he trusts Kate, but he feels like she must be a little biased. This man in front of him… It’s Luck Gandor, he’s absolutely certain, based on Kate’s description and the few pictures of her or her husband that had included the rest of the family.

I knew Keith was terrifying because I’ve met him before, but this guy… Are they all like that? I guess it makes sense… They wouldn’t be effective in the underground if they weren’t at least a little intimidating, but… Even Chané had never felt quite like that. I feel like he’s already scrutinizing me more than most people tend to. But then again, most people don’t even look twice at me.

“She’s been teaching me piano for a couple of years now and I mentioned needing more money, so she directed me this way. I’m not, ah, sure what she really expected out of it.” It’s not like Jules hasn’t had work experience before, but that was as a busboy, not a pianist. Even though he knows he’s pretty good at it, it’s hard not to be nervous, especially since he doesn’t even know what he’s doing in terms of getting hired in the first place. “Oh, I’m J— Upham. Most people just call me Upham.”

It’s not like me to slip up that easily. I guess it’s just that look he’s giving me. It’s terrifying, and that makes it difficult to withhold important things. But I really can’t give my name out so casually. I don’t think Luck himself would do anything with the information, because Kate and Keith both know, but I don’t know enough about the rest of the people here to know they don’t have any connection to the Lemures or to Huey Laforet in general. Upham alone is a common enough last name, but if someone heard both…

Perhaps, in other crime families, there would be a middleman. However, other crime families don't have a Luck Gandor. Keith & Berga may have been satisfied enough to let someone else deal with the small, menial tasks, but Luck never was. It wasn't so much a lack of trust as it was a necessity. If someone were to be working with the Family, regardless of what position they would be placed in, it was imperative for Luck to know the ins - and - outs of who was in their establishments and what their role was for being there. Not only that, but it tended to keep all those in line. It saved the Gandors a fair bit of trouble when others realized they were being watched. It wasn't as if Luck was expecting anything of the sort from Upham. Kate has spoken to him beforehand during dinner of an up - and - coming piano player who had expressed an interest in working for the Gandors. Or, well, no. Not for the Gandors, but for the Coraggioso. Not that the difference was particularly stark -- it was simply not all employees were affiliated with the crime side of the family. Which was all well and good. Not everyone had the stomach for it. Of course, no one had the stomach to work on empty either. So, it wasn't as if they could really be picky on who their employers were anyway. Most people were willing to turn a blind eye to sordid affairs when it brought them food on their tables. And, Mr. Upham seemed like that sort of person. Nervous, fidgety. His eyes were going about every which way, seeming to avoid contact with Luck's own. All the telltale signs of someone unused to criminal affairs. No . . . perhaps, someone who just knows what they simply entail. There were nervous criminals just as much as there were nervous civilians. However, in Luck's experience, nervous criminals tend to not get very far in their careers -- either poor by their own incompetence or dead by their own mistakes. Considering Mr. Upham was here for employment and was clearly still very much alive . . . he was probably not that much of a worry. Luck didn't let up his scrutiny, though. Although he didn't expect normal employees to have the steel will of his men, being a part of Coraggioso staff was not for the faint of heart. If the young man was to play here, he'd better get used to the way things are. He shouldn't expect safety just because he wouldn't have involvement in their shadowy affairs. It was usually those who least deserved it that find themselves at the end of a gang conflict. However, Luck was kind enough ( if you could call it a kindness ) to grant Upham a polite smile. He held out a hand, calm and certain. " a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Upham. call me Mr. Luck, if you could. i understand you're only following proper etiquette, but seeing as how there's three of us, it tends to get awfully confusing. If you're to refer to one of us as Mr. Gandor, best it be my eldest brother. " He firmly shook Mr. Upham's hand, and took his own away, placing it once more behind his back. " and, don't be nervous. i assure you, Mrs. Kate has given me an already glowing recommendation for you. there shouldn't be too much trouble with your employment. however, for the sake of formality, i think it imperative to ask you a few questions, no? and, perhaps, a private showing of your piano work? I do not doubt your skill, of course, but we are a jazz hall. i'd be remiss to not at least ensure the musicians we hire are up to the task. " Luck spoke kindly enough. There wasn't any sort of warmth in his voice that would put Upham at ease, but the sharp edge Luck reserved for his underground affairs was notably missing. He wanted neither comfort nor fear from his prospective employee -- just steel and resolve. Luck's eyes remained unwavering.

[jadejedi]

Romance Book Review: The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun

JJ’s rating 4.5/5

How feral did it make me: ⅗

My other book reviews

This is the first pure romance (as in not also fantasy or sci-fi) book I’ve read since I read Red, White, and Royal Blue several years ago, and I was weirdly hesitant. Which is crazy, because I still love rom-coms, I still love reading Jane Austen novels. And it’s not like this is Colleen Hoover. So I was a tad nervous going into this one, but I had absolutely no reason to be. It was delightful. I woke up today sick due to getting a covid vaccine yesterday and so I had to call into work, and so I was like, you know what, I bed The Charm Offensive would be the perfect sick day read. And I was right! I started it around 9am, finished it around 2pm, and it was the perfect pick-me-up read.

The Charm Offensive is about a producer named Dev who works on Ever After, which is basically Fairy Tale themed The Bachelor. Dev believes in the show, believes in happily ever afters. But this season’s “Prince Charming”, Charlie, doesn’t. He’s just here to salvage his reputation. When Dev learns that Charlie is actually an anxious mess who will not make it through this season alone, he starts spending a lot of time coaching Charlie on how to fall in love on camera. And of course, their off-screen relationship eventually turns into something more…

This book is a delightful, feel good romance that doesn’t just deal with sexuality and coming out, but also with mental health and mental illness. Dev has episodic depression, and Charlie has OCD, amongst other diagnoses. I thought Cochrun did a really good job of balancing the more light hearted elements of the book and the heavier parts. As someone with OCD, I found Charlie’s OCD very relatable, even if mine doesn’t look exactly the same as his. The feelings of shame he carried about the diagnosis itself, and his anxiety about being seen both resonated with me. There is also a contestant in the show who over the course of the book realizes that she is a lesbian, and boy was her story relatable to me as well, even though it was just a minor storyline in the background. 

I will say, I read a review from an Indian reader that pointed out that Dev, though theoretically Indian, is really Indian in name only. There is really no cultural exploration of his cultural heritage. I think that's fine, that's not the book she was trying to write, but I do think it's interesting to consider. This book is definitely more focused on Dev and Charlie's journey with mental health and Charlie's journey with his sexuality, and I think Cochrun does a great job with those aspects, but I do think she did herself a bit of a disservice by making one of her two main characters have this cultural background, but not have it be apart of his character at all. On the other hand, maybe that's fine. As someone who is white, it's hard for me to say. I think different people are going to have different relationships with their cultural backgrounds, so maybe a character like Dev does make sense. But I just wanted to mention it so anyone picking up this book has an accurate sense of what they're getting.

I thought both characters were very likable and it was very easy to root for their romance. Lots of chemistry right from the jump. Their flaws, their mental illnesses, their messy pasts all made them very human, which made it even easier to root for. The ending was honestly perfect. The whole way through I was like "oh man I hope she ends it how I think she's going to!!" and she did!! Very satisfying, happy ending, nice wrapping up of all the loose ends for all the side characters as well. If you are looking for an emotional but overall light hearted romance, I highly recommend this one. 

[mirroredworlds]

She had assumed as much but there had still been a spark of unreasoned doubt in Mira's mind. Perhaps it was because she had wanted those reactions from him so badly. Freed was just a really composed man, keeping faces up was no problem for him at all. Hearing that she did affect him, however, did satisfy her in a way she was unable to describe. She wanted to draw him out so much more often in the future. And that possibility seemed even more likely when she heard his next words; her heart skipped a beat at his proposal (not like it had been beating rapidly the entire time they were together, oh no) and she couldn't help the beaming smile that came to her face. All redness of her cheeks was forgotten and only now she realized how much she had wanted to hear words such as these out of his mouth. Those and so many more.

"Right now?" Mira almost stumbled over her words though managed to catch herself. "I mean, I would love to go on a date with you, Freed." Her voice was soft and her touch tender when she leaned on the bar counter again and dared to reach for his hand, allowing fingers to loosely intertwine with his. Having been so absent-minded as she was vigorously cleaning the glass she'd cleaned already Mira hadn't noticed his attempt to reach for her hand before but she was glad she could savor this kind of touch right now. Her blue eyes swayed to their hands briefly before she looked back at him, slightly tilting her head. Nothing could erase that smile from her face right now, absolutely nothing.

"No matter the result of our conversation… Since it's very late, you are of course welcome to stay the night. Again. Unless you want to go on a date tomorrow or some other day this week." Oh what was she talking about? Even if they didn't end up going on their date right now, Freed would still be very welcome to come home with her. It's not like they hadn't spent previous nights together already. Okay, so perhaps she was really a bit nervous but it was nervousness of the best kind.

Freed would keep his eyes trained on Mirajane's face. He wanted to see her every reaction and expression to his words and earlier actions. It had become pretty clear to him that there was some sort of attraction on her end focused toward him. Her flirting had a rather profound effect on him but he always remained level headed and cool. Most of the time it was just his mask, but that wasn't the conversation topic at the moment.

"Of course not right now, it's much too late and there's hardly anything worthy of our first date still open,"

He had no intention of taking her to a bar or a club as those were terrible options for a date in his honest opinion. He wanted to take her to the nice restaurant which served a great number of very good dishes and drinks. He'd eaten at the establishment a few times but never with another person. Her smile could light up the darkest room and that was something he'd thought about her smile for longer than he could remember. A lot of people shared the same sentiment he was sure. She wouldn't have been used as a centerfold model for as long otherwise, right?

"I would love to stay with you for the night. Though, I do have to let you know that I was questioned about our 'relations' and all but accused of them being less than pure."

He'd set the record straight, of course, there was nothing happening when he spent the night with her other than sleep. He knew his presence somehow calmed her and allowed her to get better rest than when she was alone. She'd told him that much herself. He'd let out a very soft and short chuckle at her quick words about when they'd go on their date.

"I am fine going on our date on any night that you are not working too late. I can call and get a reservation for us. What day and time would be good for you?"

[hecalledme-jagi]

Hello there! Hope your day/afternoon/night has been good so far! Could I request the Rfa with a who is a short and cute-looking woman but when she talks for the first time, her voice is actually super deep and mature?

Aw, I hope you’re doing well too! Thank you for the request, this is one of the cutest ideas I’ve received, and I love you for requesting it! Sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy ^^

I'm not 100% satisfied with Seven's, but I can't delay this any longer.

A Short MC With A Deep Voice

♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Zen

- Zen has loved your voice from the moment he heard it, and he made sure you knew it.

- Talking on the phone with you was addictive because of that enchanting voice.

- It eased his troubles and blew away his fatigue.

- When he found out that the larger-than-life voice he came to love belonged to a cute little lady, he was blown away.

- He wasn’t expecting that chocolatey smooth voice coming out of such a tiny frame, and he absolutely loved it.

- He thinks it suits your personality, and he finds the difference between your appearance and voice to be the cutest thing.

- Your voice gives him goosebumps, it always has and it always will.

- You’ve also caught him holding his breath in awe of your voice a few times.

- For him, your voice is intoxicating and makes his heart pound, especially when you get flirty or when you first wake up in the morning because it becomes this slightly raspy Dionysian drug.

- He could listen to you endlessly, and if you can sing, you better believe he’s asking you to sing to him every chance he gets.

- Your voice is his weakness, like a siren to a sailor.

Jumin

- Your voice made a clear impression on Jumin the moment he heard it over the phone.

- The feminine yet mature sound gave him an idea of what type of person you were, and its pleasant sound made him wish he could talk with you more.

- (Don’t even get me started on how his heart skipped a few beats when you said his name for the first time)

- He found it a bit strange, in a lovely way, how your voice played on loop in his head for the rest of the day, which he had never experienced before.

- He found it even more bazaar that your voice could calm his nerves and ease his mind, giving him the energy to make it through the day.

- The richness of your voice reminded him of his favorite bottle of wine, and whenever he drinks it, he thinks of you.

- And he was pleasantly surprised by the fact that such a bold voice belonged to this adorably small woman when he met you.

- His new image of you was a kitten with the roar of a lion, and he was smitten.

- Your voice never fails to help him relax and soothe his messy mind.

Yoosung

- When he called you for the first time, he wasn’t expecting to hear such a mellow and resonate voice on the other side of his phone.

- It surprised him, but it's honestly the most attractive voice he’s ever heard, and he felt a little bashful just listening to it.

- He tried to imagine what you looked like based off your voice.

- Seven had said you were cute, but Yoosung figured that maybe he meant that you had a mature cuteness.

- When he met you at the party and saw that you were this short and sweet cutie, it didn’t come close to how he imagined you, but that didn’t change the fact that he thought you were everything and more.

- For Yoosung, something about your voice makes him feel secure, and the night he was injured by Unknown definitely has something to do with that.

- He had called you on his way to the hospital, and the overwhelming relief he felt when he heard your voice nearly made him cry.

- Hearing your voice assures him that everything will be okay.

Seven

- Seven was the first one to see you before hearing your voice, and he thought you were adorable from the get-go, but when he heard your voice, dang, you sent him through a loop.

- At first, he thought you were just good at doing a deep voice, but the second he realized it was your actual voice, he was two parts nervous and two parts excited.

- He was charmed and ready to cause some chaotic mischief.

- After you guys started dating, you better believe he’s having you help him with prank calls.

- You guys have such great vocal range that together, you are unstoppable.

- Aside from the mischief, he simply loves listening to you talk.

- He especially loves that when you two are alone, you quiet down, and your gentleness takes front and center stage through your voice.

- The way your voice becomes a sweet whisper filled with the purest affection undoubtedly makes him feel loved, and the depth of its tone never ceases to warm him.

˚✧₊⁎𝒥𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎⁎⁺˳✧༚

I do not own any characters, all ownership goes to Cheritz. Thanks for reading!

[fanfic-chan]

Hi! A prompt, if you don't mind. Since there's not many content with Todoroki siblings, maybe some family bonding with lee Shoto and lers Natsuo and Fuyumi. Like, Shoto finally feels comfortable and close to them enough for cuddles and affection, and they realise their baby brother is touch-starved (and unexpectedly ticklish)

I- I cannot even put into words how much I enjoyed this prompt! I absolutely loved every minute of writing this and I'm so glad you decided to send it to me! Poor Shouto is so touch starved and I love every opportunity I get to give him some much needed love! I really hope you guys like it!^^

Better Late than Never

Lers: Fuyumi and Natsuo Todoroki

Lee: Shouto Todoroki

"Hey. Can you guys tickle me?"

Fuyumi couldn't even blame Natsuo when he promptly started choking on the soda he'd been drinking in surprise. Of all the things that she would have expected her socially inept younger brother to say, it certainly wasn't that.

The three of them had been hanging out in the living room together, watching some animated movies that Shouto had borrowed from one of his classmates, Izuku Midoriya. That green haired kid that he'd fought during the UA Sports Festival. 

Apparently, their youngest sibling had been doing some 'research' as he put it, on sibling bonding techniques, and had been interviewing a few of his classmates to figure out what they liked to do with their siblings. Tonight he'd suggested the three of them have a family movie night while their father was away on a business trip and he had some time off from school, an idea he'd gotten from his classmate, Hanta Sero.

Ecstatic that their little brother finally seemed ready to open up to them, they immediately agreed, and the three of them were currently cuddled up together in the impromptu blanket fort that Shouto had insisted was a must when it came to a proper family movie night because, 'Sero said so.'

And so it was.

Admittedly, things had been going pretty well up until now, when their stoic peppermint of a little brother had turned to them, family bonding list in hand, and had asked, in the most blank tone possible, if they could tickle him of all things.

"Shouto, um, if you don't mind me asking, what brought on that question?" Fuyumi asked after a moment, patting Natsuo's back firmly while he still struggled to catch his breath after almost drowning himself in Fanta. Shouto didn't even bat an eye at his older brother's near death experience, and instead kept his expression carefully emotionless. However, he was fiddling with the hem of his shirt slightly, as if he might be nervous.

"Oh. Well, Kirishima said he likes to bond with his younger siblings by tickling them. I'm the youngest, so I just thought maybe that's how it was supposed to go and that maybe we could do that too." He explained calmly, though there was a tad bit of barely noticeable apprehension there as well. "Is that… Wrong?" He asked hesitantly, tilting his head and taking on a rare expression of clear confusion as he started flipping through his notes again. Fuyumi couldn't decide whether the sight was adorable or flat out hilarious. Heck. Maybe it was a little of both.

"Oh! No! No of course it's not wrong! Just.. a little unexpected? I guess it's just surprising! Not bad though. It's good actually! Really good!" She answered hurriedly, not wanting to ruin this rare moment of trust Shouto was showing. He'd never really gotten the chance to bond with them properly when they were little, and his social skills definitely left something to be desired, so for him to be purposefully seeking out the opportunity to do normal siblings things with them? Especially things like physical displays of affection? Well, that was a pretty big deal.

He looked up at her and blinked, relaxing after a moment and setting his notes aside, seemingly satisfied with her hasty explanation.

"Oh." He said after a pause. "So.. You'll.. You'll do it then?" He asked quietly, and if she didn't know any better, it looked like he might even be blushing. Fuyumi couldn't help allowing herself a fond smile. When had her little brother gotten so adorable dang it?! There was definitely no way she could say no to that! 

Rather than giving a verbal answer right away though, she instead let her expression morph into something a tad more mischievous and looked over at Natsuo, who had by some miracle managed to recover from his coughing fit. "Hey Natsu? Remember that thing Touya used to do to us when we were kids?" She asked with a smirk, suddenly scooping up their little brother from behind and pulling him into her lap when he wasn't looking, catching him off guard. She quickly wrapped her arms around his torso, trapping him effectively while simultaneously preventing him from being able to bring his arms all the way down, leaving him exposed.

Natsuo looked just as confused as Shouto did for a moment before realization suddenly seemed to hit him. Back when they were younger, sometimes Touya would scoop one of them up into his lap and trap them there, then he'd warningly tell them, "Don't laugh or flinch at all or else~" and wiggle his fingers just above their stomach, occasionally pretending to dip his hand down before bringing it back up again. This would go on until eventually they'd break and he'd finally start clawing into their sides or ribs or armpits. It was never the same spot, and so the inability to guess or prepare for it always made it so much worse. They loved it, and hopefully, so would Shouto now that he would actually have a chance to play. 

He smiled slightly at the memory before crawling over to sit in front of his two siblings, the younger of them looking more than a little confused. "Um. What are you two doing? What did Touya used to do?" He asked, voice deceptively calm even as an anxious smile was starting to pull at his lips. Just because he'd never been allowed to participate didn't mean he hadn't seen his siblings playing this game before, and he had to admit, it was kind of exciting to finally be a part of it, even if he was a bit nervous.

"What do you mean 'what are we doing'? You wanted us to tickle you right? So what better time than now to teach our dear little Shouto about our favorite tickle game hm?" Fuyumi teased, making him squirm a bit in anticipation as he watched Natsuo slowly move his hands toward his stomach, which he sucked in instinctively.

"The rules are simple." Fuyumi began, "Don't laugh,"

"Or flinch at all-" Natsuo joined.

"Or else~" They finished together, and with that, the game had begun.

Shouto held up pretty good for about seven minutes. After all, due to both his extensive training on self control as a child and the countless tickle fights he'd already gotten into with his classmates back at the dorms, he'd managed to build up a fair amount of resistance, and he remained stubbornly quiet and still no matter how many times Natsuo tried to catch him off guard. That is until Fuyumi decided to cheat by pinching his side right at the exact moment Natsuo decided to bring his hand down again, and he arched his back in surprise right into his older brother's waiting fingers.

"GYAH- Ahahahahaha! No! Nohoho wait!! Fuyuhuhumi you cheheheheater!!!" He laughed, collapsing into his sister's chest as Natsuo started digging into his sides. "Cheater? Me? Are you hearing this Natsu? Shouto's accusing me of being a cheater! The nerve!" Fuyumi exclaimed, feigning outrage as she joined in by scribbling her fingers over his ribs and into his armpits, making him squeal adorably. By now, he'd been squirming around so much that his head had ended up cradled in her lap, giving her a perfect view of his joyful smile. The sight of her little brother, so happy and carefree in this moment, it almost brought her to tears, and she couldn't resist the urge to discretely snap a few quick pictures of the scene with her phone, both as a keepsake and to send to their mom later along with the others she'd gotten throughout the night.

"NONONONO!! NOT THEHEHERE! NOT THE FEET NATSUHUHU!! AHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Shouto honestly couldn't remember a time he'd felt this much joy. Tickle fights with his classmates were always fun, sure, but this? This level of closeness and affection being shared between him and his siblings right now? It was like having a hole filled that had been empty for far to long. He never wanted it to stop. 

"What? Not here? Why not? Is someone a little sensitive riiight here~?" 

"YEHEHEHES! I AHAHAM! PLEASE! PLEAHEASE STAHAHAHAP!!! I'M DONE FOR NOHOHOW!!""

Okay he didn't want it to stop, but maybe, um, maybe he did need to breathe though. His siblings seem to recognize this as well and quickly let up. He shot them both a grateful smile as he curled into a ball on his side, still giggling. This time, Natsuo was the one who couldn't resist the urge to record it.

"I.. I love you... Guys.." Shouto mumbled between giggles, and they both froze. Did- Did he really just?...

Shouto barely had time to process what was happening before he was literally being crushed in a bear hug between his two siblings, and despite his sudden inability to breathe again, he returned the embrace happily because maybe.. Maybe this is what he'd been missing all along.

[nerdyfangirl67]

With a Little Help From the Team - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Tim McGee x fem!reader, Gibbs x daughter!reader (brief/vague)

Word count: 2717

Warnings: this was a pretty fluffy piece! (not gonna lie), mild language, reader is Gibbs’ daughter

Request: @ncisfan​ “Hello! I saw your post from this morning saying you didn’t have any requests for ncis at the moment and I wanted to make a request. If for some reason you don’t want to write it that’s okay but here’s my prompt,(Idk what to call it) The reader and McGee have been dating for years and McGee has to tell the whole team (Tony, McGee, Bishop, Gibbs. That team please!) including her dad (Gibbs, cause why not?) when he wants to propose. You can decide on if they say yes or no but I hope you’ll write it. Sorry if I’m overwhelming you I just wanted to make a request”

A/N: I know I’ve told you this @ncisfan​ , but I absolutely love this idea! And a McGee x reader? Yes please! I did put this in both McGee’s and the reader’s point of view and changed it up a bit. (Yeah, I got super involved in this one and it got longer than I thought…and took far longer than I thought) I hope you enjoy it darling!!

Tim stands in the bullpen, nervously trying to find the right words to tell the team about you, the team of which just so happened to include the one man capable of making him feel like a young schoolboy still wet behind the ears, especially since that one man had a lot to do with what Tim was about to say.

Tim takes a deep breath to gather his last bit of courage and confidence, which promptly fades away the moment he starts talking.

“I uh…well you know that I’ve been seeing, no dating…dating Y/N.” Tim stutters out as his nerves get the better of him, completely fumbling the carefully planned out speech he had come up with prior to meeting with Gibbs.

Gibbs narrows his steely blue eyes as he wordlessly nods his head, telling Tim to continue.

“Things have been going well, really well actually. And I’ve been wanting to, or meaning to…not that I was putting it off, because I wasn’t. That’s the last thing-”

Gibbs cut him off with a “Spit it out McGee.”

“What I’m asking is for your permission, no..that’s not - I want to propose to her.” He was speaking so fast, his words were nearly running together, his sentences jamming together into one that didn’t make much sense.

Gibbs doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he continues to stare at Tim, looking for any trace of deception in his face. “Why?” He asks gruffly, startling Tim.

“Wh-why?” Tim squeaks out, an uneasy feeling weighing on his chest as he tries to find the right words to answer a question he hadn’t prepared for.

“Yes, McGee. Why? Why do you want to marry my daughter?” Gibbs pauses, still evaluating Tim and his reaction. “Why should I want you to marry my daughter?”

Tim takes a deep breath, a sudden burst of confidence washing over him as he realizes that the answer to such a question was right in front of him. “Because I love her… honestly, I have for a long time, even before we started dating. And, more than anything, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to spend every day that I have left in this life showing her I love her and cherishing her the way she deserves. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”

Gibbs surprises him then, with a small smile and a hearty clasp to his shoulder. “Alright then, probie. Now all you have to do is tell her that and of course, ask her to marry you.”

Had it been any other girl, McGee might not be struggling as much to find the words. But you weren’t just any girl. You were not only Gibbs' daughter, something that caused him far more fear than he’d ever admit (he was dating the boss’ daughter after all), but you were also close with the other members of the team, which made this whole ordeal all the more nerve wracking.

You had come to know the members of the team through your job as a technical analyst for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, meaning you spent most of your time hunting down case leads in a cubicle. Then, as you grew better at your job, and closer to Abby (who had had something to do with getting you on Gibbs team, although she’d never admit to it), you had been moved from that cubicle to a desk in Gibbs’ bullpen, unceremoniously joining the team, although not full-time as you still worked with the cyber/tech unit, your father thought so highly of (something he would never admit out loud, even to you).

You eventually became just as close to Abby as your father was, something Abby always attributed to ‘a Gibbs thing’, - “It must be a Gibbs thing because Y/N is just as great as Jethro and we just click.” Many times, if you weren’t working on a case, you could be found hanging out in the lab with Abby.

You and Tony were best friends, spending hours talking about movies and pranking each other. And, despite your “geeky background” of tech analysis, Tony never once teased you (a courtesy Tony had never given him). In fact, he had become something of a big brother to you, filling a role in your life you hadn’t ever thought you’d needed filled.

And then Ziva had joined the team, filling in little by little that hole that had been left after Kate’s death. Even with the high tension existing between Abby and Ziva, you and Ziva had hit it off right away, becoming fast friends. Eventually, despite the perceived oddness of your friendship, you, Abby, and Ziva became an inseparable trio, even occasionally ganging up together against Tony or Gibbs.

Suffice to say, you were important to the team, just as they were to you. And now Tim was faced with telling these people that he not only had been dating you (a relationship the two of you had decided to keep relatively quiet because of your line of work and the fact that you were often times coworkers), but that he was going to ask you to marry him, a proposal of which he was seeking the team’s help with.

“So, uh...I-well, I’ve been seeing, er...dating-” Tim starts, his mind scrambling as he tries to form a coherent sentence.

“McGee, the chickadee is out of the bag. We all know you’re dating Y/N.” Ziva says matter of factly,

“Cat, Ziva, the cat is out of -” Tony starts reflexively, before pausing and turning to Tim and then to Gibbs, his mouth hanging open. “Wait-what? You’re the one Y/N has been dating?” He asks incredulously.

Gibbs takes a step forward, slapping Tony on the back of the head. “Close your mouth DiNozzo.” Tony’s jaw snaps shut at the command.

“Keep talking McGee.” Gibbs says gruffly, his piercing blue eyes settling on Tim.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Tim blurts out.

“We kind of knew that McGee.” Abby states, her lips pulled into a satisfied smirk. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been stealthy about ring shopping. Or buying the ring. Or getting it inscribed.” Abby lists off, earring a few incredulous looks from the other members of the team. “Y/N’s my best friend, okay? I had to make sure the ring was a good one.”

Tony turns to McGee. “McRomeo getting married? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” Tony steps forward to give Tim a good-natured shoulder shove. “You like it so you’re putting a ring on it, huh?” He asks with a Cheshire Cat-like grin on his face. Ziva is the one who moves to slap him in the back of the head this time.

“Ow, Ziva. What the hell was that for?” Tony asks, a hand already rubbing the spot Ziva had just smacked on the back of his head.

“When will you ever shut up and let McGee finish?” She questions, giving Tony a pointed glare. He opens his mouth to respond, but a hard look from Gibbs keeps him quiet.

Tim timidly clears his throat before continuing. “I’d like to do it here. And, um...I’d like to do it here, with all of you.” Smiles spread through the group at Tim’s words, several ideas already being blurred out by the more enthusiastic members of the team (it was Abby. Abby was already excitedly sharing ideas with the person sitting next to her, which just so happened to be Gibbs.)

——— You squeeze Tim’s hand before letting go, reaching for the handle to your car door. “See you at work.” You say with a soft smile before turning back towards your car.

“Let’s, um, let’s ride together today, to work I mean.” Tim stammers nervously, a hand on top of your driver’s side door, stopping you from leaving.

“Are you sure? I thought we were trying to keep this, us, quiet.” You ask, stepping away from your car and closer to him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, leaning forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Just once, okay?” He asks quietly, a sheepish smile on his face.

You let out a small laugh. “Just this one time, alright Agent McGee?” You say with a smile, letting him take your hand and lead you towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, closing it behind you before getting in the driver’s side. The entire ride into work is marked with Tim either giving you a huge dopey grin or a quick nervous glance, which only serves to make you suspicious, as if the insisting to ride together didn’t already.

Tim pulls into his usual parking spot, shutting off the car before turning to you. “How about we walk in together?” He asks hesitantly, a shy smile accompanying his question.

You quirk an eyebrow up at his question before responding, “Tim, it might make it pretty obvious what’s going on between us if we do that.” “Let’s do it anyway, Y/N.” He reaches over to squeeze your hand before climbing out of the driver’s side of the car and making his way to your side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, offering you a hand to help you out, which you graciously accept. He continues to hold your hand after you are out of the car and as the two of you walk into the building, only letting go as the two of you go through security.

The two of you are the only ones on the elevator and for the entirety of the short ride, you can almost feel Tim vibrating beside you with some sort of nervous energy. You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before murmuring, “You okay?” He gives you a tight nod in response just as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival on your floor of the building.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Have a good day Tim, I love you.” You say, moving towards the open doors of the elevator. Tim reaches a hand out, grasping yours and stopping your exit out of the elevator.

“I, uh, I’ve got to give you something. It’s in my desk drawer, in the...bullpen.” He stammers out, quickly retracting his hand to wipe it against his suit jacket.

“Oh, can I get it at lunch?” You ask, turning back towards the front of the elevator and pressing the button to reopen the doors.

“No.” He shouts, startling you enough that you take a step back away from the sliding doors. “I mean, come with me?”

“What is up with you today Tim?” You demand, his unexplained, unnatural behavior causing your suspicions to rise, a million questions running through your head.

“Just...please.” His voice is thick with emotion, his words coming out barely above a whisper.

You silently nod your head, stepping back into the elevator and allowing the doors to close as you press the button for the floor that the NCIS team resided on. You spare a look over at Tim, whose is rubbing his hands up and down his slacks, his face turned towards the ceiling of the elevator and his lips moving in silent words.

“Tim, what is going on? You’ve been acting weird all morning and I just-” The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the floor of the bullpen and effectively cutting you off.

Tim puts a hand over the doors, stopping them from closing as he looks at you, his kaleidoscopic eyes pleading with you to understand and to trust him. You give a small nod, taking his outstretched hand in your own and following him to the bullpen.

Right away, you notice the lights over the area of the office you’d come to know as your father’s, as Gibbs’, were off. A flash of fear settles in your chest as you begin to picture all the possible scenarios as to why your father’s part of the office was empty and dark, none of them positive. You start to walk faster, almost pushing past Tim, to get to the bullpen. You suddenly stop short when your eyes fall on Tony’s desk.

Instead of finding your best friend seated at his desk or even finding his desk empty, you see that Tony’s desktop is covered with picture frames. Your curiosity wins out over the rising fear in your chest and you step closer to the desk to inspect the framed photos.

“Oh,” A breath of surprise leaves you as you realize that they were photos of you and of Tim, taken at different times in your relationship. A series of pictures of the two of you from your second date, taken in one of the photo kiosks that you find at the mall. The two of you making goofy faces at each other in the bullpen. You and Tim bent over a computer, faces serious as you both stare at the screen. You turn to Tim’s desk next, finding it filled with vases of flowers in your favorite color.

You move towards them, leaning down to inhale their fragrant scent, your gaze landing on your father’s desk and the photos scattered across the desktop, similar to Tony’s desk, except these were pictures you’d taken of the two of you. One of the pictures from your first trip together, from the date when Tim had told you he loved you, and the first case the two of you had worked on together and a series of selfies you’d taken with Tim at various times; all laid out like a timeline of your relationship.

After a few long moments, you lift your gaze towards Ziva’s desk, curiosity seizing you as you find her desk almost empty. You quickly make your way to the front of the desk, your eyes landing on the single piece of white paper, with only one small paragraph scrawled out in the middle of the page.

Y/N,

I love you and I have something I have wanted to tell you, or rather ask you, for a long time now. I know you’re probably wondering what that question is, so if you’d turn around, I’d like to ask you it.

You slowly turn around, the paper clutched to your chest and your heart racing in your chest as your eyes find Tim’s. He gives you a small, honest smile as he takes a step forward, his hands clasping around yours before he kneels down on one knee in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what is happening.

“I’ve loved you for years. First, as a friend, and then as a boyfriend, and now...now I want to love you as your fiance, and eventually as your husband. Would you, Y/N Gibbs, do me the honor of being my wife?” In his hands is a modest red velvet ring box, a platinum band adorned with three small diamonds nestled on the inside of the open box.

A lump forms in your throat and as you try to speak, to say yes, nothing comes out. Instead, you nod your head vigorously and close the distance between the two of you. Tim stands fully just as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in against you. You vaguely register noise in the background, noise you later learn is from the various members of ‘your’ NCIS team, as you feel him kiss your cheek.  

“I love you.” You whisper softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring in the feeling of his lips against yours.

“And I love you.” He gives you a deep kiss in return, leaning in to cup a hand along the back of your neck. After a moment, you pull back enough to smile widely at him, the realization that this man would become your husband, the man that you got to spend the rest of your life with, starts to dawn on you, filling you with elation and excitement, not only for your wedding but for the future you’d had with the man you loved.

Tagging:

@madamsnape921​ @ncisfan​ @thisiscalm-andits-doctor​

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Lazy Morning Intimacy

So, who’s ready for an extra long serving of shameless fluff from the first draft of my fan novelization of Our Life: Beginnings & Always? My philosophy in writing this is if I can add some more fluffy cuddly moments, I absolutely will, and the Step 3 moment Reflection offers one such opportunity right at the very start before, well, those of you who have played this moment know what happens later.

Spoilers for those who have not played the Step 3 DLC! If you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read any further! If you don’t mind spoilery stuff, well, don’t let me stop you, but I highly, highly encourage you to play through the game before reading any of this.

As always, thanks go to @gb-patch for their wonderful game and their lovely feedback for my work, as well as everyone who likes, reblogs, and comments on these clips I’m posting here. You are all awesome.  💖

...

It wasn’t often that Jamie had the chance to enjoy breakfast at the Holden house. Ever since their parents decreed that they were ‘too old’ for sleepovers, she and Cove didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy that particular meal together, which made today a rare treat. It wasn’t especially fancy fare, but it was lovely to be able to spend time with her boyfriend almost as soon as she woke up. She was glad she impulsively asked if he wanted to have breakfast with her when they exchanged their usual good morning texts.

After a pleasant meal filled with light conversation and tasty food, Cove invited Jamie to retreat to his room to relax and let the lazy morning linger before any big activities began. That was, if they didn’t just decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. Neither of them had any plans in particular, with no prior commitments with friends, family, or work to distract them from just spending the day together. It wasn’t officially a date day, per say, or at least neither of them called it that yet. So far, they just decided to do whatever came to mind while enjoying each other’s company.

Of course, the first thing that came to Jamie’s mind was to cuddle with her boyfriend. When Cove sat down onto the bed, she didn’t hesitate to take a seat beside him, leaning into him. He hummed happily in approval and looped an arm around her to pull her in even closer.

A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as a new thought came to mind, and Jamie leaned in even closer. Cove raised an eyebrow at expression, only to yelp when she unexpectedly pushed her weight into him and tipped him back onto the bed. She fell along with him, giggling as they tumbled onto the mattress

Cove let out a chuckle of his own once he recovered from his surprise. “When I said we could relax, I didn’t mean going back to bed,” he said with a wry smile. Even still, he allowed her to nudge him gently back to the headboard so that they could both lounge comfortably on the bed properly with their heads resting on the pillows side by side. 

Jamie flashed Cove a satisfied grin before she snuggled up against his side, nuzzling her cheek against his as she basked in his gentle warmth. “You also said to make myself comfortable,” she teased, her eyes sparkling playfully as she rested her arm across his chest. “I’m very comfortable like this.”

Cove felt his heartbeat quicken, and he smiled back fondly at Jamie, nuzzling her cheek in return. “Me too,” he said softly.

Though maybe he was a little too comfortable.

Cove couldn’t help but be aware of the fact that they were both lying in his bed together. A prickling of nerves rose up that he quickly did his best to tamp down to not ruin the intimate moment they were sharing. It was fine, no big deal, he told himself. They were both fully dressed, on top of the sheets, and it was broad daylight. They cuddled plenty of times like this before on sofas and the ground. Heck, this was nothing compared to when they shared a bed when they were younger.

The flickering of nervousness didn’t escape Jamie’s notice. She softened her expression and reached up to gently run her fingers through her shy boyfriend’s hair. She had intended to steal a kiss or two and see where that would take them, but she decided that could wait until later. Just enjoying this moment with Cove was enough for her.

The touch was soothing, and Cove slowly started to relax as he leaned into Jamie. The anxious air that had threatened to pull him out of the moment gradually dissipated as her comforting warmth slowly settled in. Soon, he felt at ease enough to slip his arm back around her, which she happily used as her new pillow. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing the content expression on his partner’s face as she smiled softly back at him.

A comfortable silence washed over the pair as they simply enjoyed the quiet moment of intimacy. At some point, Jamie went from stroking Cove’s hair to toying with it. His ponytail limited her in how much she could card her fingers through his hair, but there were plenty of long locks to ripple between her fingers.

It wasn’t the first time Jamie got the impulse to play with her boyfriend’s hair. Even before he was officially - or even unofficially - her boyfriend, she couldn’t help but want to run her fingers through those pretty pale green strands. When they were younger, Cove would jokingly try to avoid her hands, but always ‘failed’ to escape in the end, allowing her to have her way. Sometimes she teased him back by pretending to give up, and he would always pout adorably, which she would immediately chase away with a satisfying ruffle of his hair.

Occasionally, Jamie would go beyond playing to actual styling. She was no professional, but it was fun to wind her boyfriend’s hair into a braid or two sometimes. Cove never minded, even if the braids rarely lasted that long after she was finished making them. It also didn’t escape her notice that he would sometimes shiver or let out an adorable pleasured little mumble when she raked her fingers along his scalp. It was an enjoyable experience for both of them, and sometimes she suspected that was one of the reasons why he let his hair grow as long as he did.

Jamie had no such grand designs now. Today she simply basked in the freedom to enjoy the feeling of his soft hair sliding between her fingers as she listened to the happy noises her partner occasionally let slip.

Although much more at ease, Cove couldn’t help the small traces of nervous energy that left him with the need to do something with his hands. He ran his thumb across her shoulder with the hand that was limited by Jamie resting on the upper part of his arm. With his freer hand, he decided to return the favor she paid to him and ran his fingers through her long deep blue hair, starting with stroking back her bangs before sliding his hand down along the entire length of her hair until he reached the ends at her hips. The feeling was soft and silky, and she sighed softly at the attention.

On impulse, Cove poked one of the small buns on top of his girlfriend’s head. Space buns were her preferred hairstyle of choice nowadays, and there was something satisfying about poking them that he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the feel of them, or the way the bunched up hair bounced when poked that did it, but most likely it was because of the amused looks Jamie gave him whenever he did. She wore one such expression now, and he couldn’t help but chuckle a bit before giving her bun another playful poke.

Entertained, Jamie let Cove have her way with her buns, poking and prodding them as he pleased. The potential for innuendo wasn’t lost on her, but she let it go unsaid. As fun as it would be to make him flustered by suggesting that he might enjoy playing with a different set of buns she had even more, she didn’t want to interrupt the light, playful moment.

Jamie would just save that little bit of wordplay for later, preferably when the mood was good enough that Cove might take her up on the invitation.

Despite the steamy thoughts that skirted through her mind, Jamie did her best to focus on enjoying the lazy moment between them. It was lovely to just share such casual intimacy with Cove.

Jamie wasn’t alone in trying to ignore her more hormonal urges. As much as Cove enjoyed playing with her hair, focusing on touching her as he did made it impossible for him to stop thinking about the fact that they were both lying on his bed together. He was keenly aware of the gentle warmth of her body pressed against him, how soft and inviting her pink lips looked as she smiled at him.

Eventually, Cove realized he needed something else to occupy his hands if he didn’t want to risk disrupting the peaceful moment. Shifting about a bit, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket. Although Jamie raised an eyebrow at that and at being displaced from her cozy spot when he moved around, she held no objections as he turned his phone on and busied himself with it. Instead, she simply readjusted her position to get comfortable once he was settled again.

Sifting through missed texts and emails, Cove soon managed to distract himself from the urges that ruffled his nerves and relaxed back into the moment. He spotted a number of texts he missed from his dad, and for a moment he wondered if everything was okay until he realized Cliff just sent him a bunch of images last night.

A warm smile graced his face as Cove slowly scrolled his way through the photographs, nostalgia washing over him. Each photo brought him back to the moment it was taken, allowing him to lose himself in the priceless memories he shared with his friends, family, and especially the special person he held so comfortably close at that very moment.

Some photos brought back sweet memories, others a little more on the bitter side of sweet, and then there were the funnier ones. One such silly photo seized Cove’s attention, and he couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped him.

The sound immediately snapped Jamie out of her relaxed stupor and brought her back to the present. She raised an eyebrow at Cove, but he failed to notice her questioning look, too preoccupied by whatever was on his phone’s screen.

“What’s so funny?” Jamie asked as she propped herself up on her arm to get a better look at his face and catch a glimpse of the phone’s screen.

Cove finally turned to look at Jamie, his eyes crinkled with mirth and a smirk playing on his lips. “Dad scanned some old photos,” he chuckled. “You know…”

Now that Jamie was no longer using his arm as a pillow, Cove was free to use it to draw a rectangle in the air. “Printed out ones,” he explained, “back from when I was little.” He waved his phone a bit with his other hand. “He texted it all to me last night, I guess. I’ve been checking them out.”

Jamie sat up completely, her dark blue eyes flying open wide. “You were looking at your kiddie photos and didn’t tell me?!” she gasped, almost scandalized at missing out on something so priceless.

Cove barely resisted the urge to chuckle, offering Jamie a bent smile as his eyes narrowed playfully. “I was gonna show you.” His gaze then slid away to his phone as his expression turned a little more hesitant. “I just wanted to look at it first to make sure there was nothing super embarrassing. You never know with my dad.”

His mouth pulled into a grimace as Cove could easily imagine all sorts of horrors his dad might have captured on film to unintentionally humiliate him until the end of time. “I mean… what if there’s a photo of me getting potty trained or something?”

Although Jamie empathized with his worries, she couldn’t help but giggle at the fraught expression Cove wore. “Yeah, that sounds like something your dad would do.”

Cove could only respond by clearing his throat nervously, his eyes skirting away from Jamie as he sat up as well. While he hadn’t come across any particularly humiliating photo of himself, he couldn’t quite shake the fear of what his dad’s well-meaning actions might have left for him to deal with this time.

Jamie offered her boyfriend a sympathetic smile before adding a slight bent to it. “Hey, how about this - if you let me look at your embarrassing baby photos, I’ll show you just as many of mine. My moms have plenty of them.”

The offer was tempting. Cove couldn’t help but wonder what sort of photos Jamie had in mind, but the price was just too steep. He merely chuckled awkwardly and shook his head as he pointedly kept his phone tilted away from her. She huffed and puffed out her cheeks in a mock pout at him for holding out on her, which elicited a genuine bout of laughter from him.

Once Cove got his mirth under control, he smiled at Jamie. “Anyway, before we forget, I was laughing ‘cause I came across a Halloween one from when I was eight. The year I was a zombie, remember?”

Jamie dropped her faux pout and nodded, her eyes lighting up eagerly. Cove shook his head at her excitement, a wry grin gracing his face as he finally offered the phone to her.

As Cove watched Jamie eagerly turn to his phone, he couldn’t help but shake his head again, this time at his kid self. “I never even liked zombies!” he said, a little baffled that he ever was so enthusiastic for such a costume. “All I wanted was to show off my new scar. And I needed to be something scary. I couldn’t be a normal person who had a scar, according to my eight-year-old mind.”

The photo displayed on the screen showed Cove from ten years in the past, and a pleasant wave of nostalgia washed over Jamie as she saw him the way he looked when they first met, minus the pink cast and plus a fair amount of makeup and fake blood. Little Cove posed for the camera with his fingers hooked like claws, his mouth open as though letting out what was probably supposed to be a fierce roar. She could easily remember the noises he made that night as he pretended to be a zombie on the hunt for brains. His hair looked even more wild and disheveled than it did after the most energetic day of play, going well with the tattered and ‘blood’ stained button up shirt he wore. His face was painted in gray down to his neck, marred with an array of fake scars that couldn’t compare to the real one on his arm.

Cove looked from Jamie to the phone and chuckled softly at the face his younger self pulled for the camera. “I was a little dork.”

Jamie eyed Cove at such self-depreciation before poking him on the nose. “You were a little cutie,” she insisted. “And now you’re a big cutie.”

Cove blinked at the playful action before blushing at the compliment. He had no words to reply to it except for a quiet, flustered chuckle as he rubbed his nose.

Jamie grinned at that reaction before turning back to the photo. As much as she enjoyed how adorable Cove looked while pretending to be a fierce monster, it was impossible to ignore the scar displayed so predominantly on his arm at that time. Her smile softened at the edges at the sight of such a large, jagged line of fresh skin that was such a deep and angry shade of red. The scar was a pale memory in the present, but back then it looked so painful, and at the time she found it hard not to worry about him and his comfort after his cast came off.

Still, Jamie refused to let that put a damper on the story and focused instead on just how much fun little Cove was having posing for the camera and remembering the way they played around with their costumes that night. She could vividly recall how she pretended to run away from him when he playfully growled that he wanted to eat her brains, and the memory made her smile grow stronger.

“Dad really wanted to be useful, as usual,” Cove said, bringing Jamie’s attention back to him in the present. Though he noticed the flicker of sadness that crossed her face and realized the reason for it, he was glad to see her perk up again just as quickly. “He came up with the idea of being an undead person. It was pretty good, huh?”

Jamie chuckled softly and nodded. “You had the best Halloween costume that year, hands down,” she said playfully. “I remember you getting lots of extra candy when adults realized the scar was real.” Her smile widened as she remembered just how jealous Lizzie had been at how much candy Cove got that year, especially since he only offered to share some of that extra candy with Jamie. “It must have been your greatest Halloween haul ever.”

Cove couldn’t help but chuckle as well as he thought back to that legendary candy haul as well. It took him a month to finish it all even with Jamie’s help.

Still, the topic of his scar brought his gaze back to the picture. Cove couldn’t help but compare the way it looked in the photo to its current appearance on his left arm. “I can’t believe how much larger my scar used to be,” he said quietly.

Jamie watched as Cove turned his focus to his arm with a soft smile on his face. He traced his fingers along the jagged line of pale flesh that remained with him even ten years on. It was an action that she had seen him do countless times, but it felt more significant in that moment.

A soft sigh escaped Cove, but his eyes and tone were playful. “Look at how tiny it is now.” He gave Jamie a look with big, pathetic eyes. “How am I gonna pretend to be tough without a big scar?”

It was a struggle for Jamie not to laugh at the expression Cove wore. “You better not do anything stupid to get a new scar,” she joked with a faux disapproving frown as she wagged a finger at him. “No matter how much you like them!”

Cove grinned back at Jamie. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Jamie said with a satisfied nod. “You’ve already got the coolest scar, no matter how small it gets.”

Cove felt his cheeks grow warm and his smile turned bashful. “Thanks.” He ducked his head away from Jamie, pleased with their joking exchange. Once again, his eyes drifted down to his scar as he continued to trace it.

“I really do like having this,” he admitted in a soft, shy voice. “Even if it is kind of little these days.”

Jamie’s expression softened as well, feeling as though Cove was sharing a big secret with her. She couldn’t help but feel happy to hear that he liked his scar despite whatever pain it must have caused him to get it. It was always wonderful whenever he opened up to her like this.

Cove glanced up at Jamie, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “I like yours, too.”

The unexpected compliment caught Jamie off guard, and heat rose in her cheeks, turning them pink. She couldn’t help but smile as she felt her chest flutter with butterflies. He never failed to think of her as well, especially since he knew that she was self-conscious of her own scars.

Unthinkingly, Jamie brought her hand up to her upper arm and traced some of the countless jagged little white lines that marred her pale skin. There were matching scars in the same place on her other arm, as well as her thighs and her chest. Unlike Cove, these scars were not the result of an accident, but her skin not being able to keep up with her sudden growth during puberty.

Back during her early teenage years when the stretch marks were fresh and an angry purplish-red, Jamie always kept them hidden. Puberty had been rough on her, dealing a blow to her self-esteem as well as her body, and being covered in so many scars left her feeling ugly even though she never once thought of Cove’s scar like that.

It took time for Jamie to accept her scars, and she knew that Cove was a big part of why. Seeing the way he took such quiet pride in his scar always made her question how she thought of hers. More than that, he always made her feel beautiful, and he was always the first to remind her  whenever she needed it. That was why she was no longer afraid to wear clothes that exposed her scars like she did now.

Jamie scooted in closer to Cove as she smiled adoringly at him, placing her hand on top of his. “Thank you, Cove.”

Cove turned back to face Jamie fully. He finally let go of his scar so that he could take her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. He felt at peace with his scar and was happy to see the same reflected on her face as well. Their scars held such meaning to them despite coming from unhappy sources.

Jamie squeezed his hand back as she drifted even closer. “Could I touch your scar?”

Cove blinked, taken aback by the request. Usually, Jamie wasn’t shy about touching him without asking first, particularly someplace as innocent as his arm. Still, he quickly realized why she might hesitate to do that now and smiled gently at her as he nodded easily. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Jamie gave Cove’s hand one more squeeze before letting go of it. Lightly, she pressed her fingertips against the edges of his scar. With great care, she slowly ran her thumb along the entire length of it, following the jagged angles the old wound took. The pale flesh was rough when compared to the rest of his skin, which was soft, but with goosebumps rising quickly along his arm as she stroked his scar.

The touch, so delicate and gentle, left Cove feeling a bit lightheaded. Jamie’s touch always felt wonderful and often left him feeling butterflies, but somehow the feel of her paying such careful attention to his scar was particularly powerful. A choked breath escaped him and a wobbly smile played across his face as he lost himself in the feeling.

The dizzied smile Cove wore along with the light pink of his cheeks drew Jamie in with the urge to do more. She locked eyes with him, staring deep into his aquamarine eyes as she took a hold of his arm and raised it up towards her.

A quiet gasp escaped Cove when she realized what Jamie had in mind. He couldn’t look away from her dark blue eyes as she stared so intently into him even as she placed a soft kiss on the old wound that marked him. The feeling of her lips, warm and soft, pressed so tenderly against that particular place sent shivers up his spine, and he let out a tiny squeak.

Jamie smiled against Cove’s skin as she appreciated his adorable reaction, as well as the way he looked at her with overwhelming adoration. She kissed him again and again, tracing the entire length of his scar with her lips like she did with her fingers before.

It was impossible for Cove to stay still when Jamie was showing him such affection. He reached up with his free hand to touch her arm. With his thumb, he brushed aside the edge of her open sleeve, giving him better access to the countless little white lines marking her pale skin. The texture was interesting, feeling so similar yet so different from his own scar. Because of their size and number, he found his fingers constantly alternating between soft skin and rougher tissue. It was difficult to trace any one scar from start to finish like she did for him, so instead he sought out to touch every single one.

The touch was electric, and Jamie could feel her heartbeat speed up as Cove caressed her so lovingly. “Cove…”

Cove shivered again as Jamie murmured his name against his skin, setting off sparks that made his body burn pleasantly. It urged him to lean forward, his eyes gleaming with the fire she set ablaze inside him.

Jamie raised her head and instinctively matched his movement, drawing nearer to Cove as her eyes drifted closed. She felt his lips gently meet hers, and she melted into the tender kiss. She held a little more firmly onto his arm as she fell deeper into him, feeling like she might drown in the depths of her feelings for him.

Cove all too quickly lost himself in the moment and in Jamie. It felt so wonderful, so right to be her like this, to touch and kiss her. He loved her so much that it was almost overwhelming, but knowing that she loved him as well kept him grounded.

Eventually they finally drifted apart, breathless and dazed from the kiss, their faces flushed with heat. When Jamie opened her eyes, she saw Cove gazing back at her with his mesmerizing ocean blue eyes. The look he gave her was spellbinding, filled with so much love and adoration that made her heart hammer hard against her ribcage. It told her without words that the feelings he had for her were just as immense as hers were for him.

Cove leaned in again, this time resting his forehead gently against Jamie’s. With heavy lidded eyes, he simply enjoyed gazing deeply into her blue eyes that always reminded him of the night sky. No matter how many times he saw them, they always captivated him. He could lose himself in those beautiful eyes of hers.

The feeling of his warm breath tickling her skin made Jamie shiver a little, especially the way it brushed against her lips like the ghost of a kiss. With their heads touching, his hand on her arm and hers on his, she felt entirely entwined with Cove. It felt so right.

Time ceased to have any meaning in that moment as they gazed deeply into their partner’s eyes and drank in the closeness and warmth they shared. Seconds or minutes might have passed, but neither of them cared as they lost themselves in each other.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. ��But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

[thefanficmonster]

Phone Call Anxiety

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When wanting to make quality merch, one needs a quality team there to produce and work on quality ideas. Great minds think alike. Great eyes see alike and great hands make alike - the three keys to the formula of creating a clothing line that will be fashionable and up to his brand. Luckily, Corpse knows just who to call.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your wonderful request, I absolutely loved the idea! Sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be turned into a fic for so long, but I still hope you come across it and give it a read in which case I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

He’s not a fan of phone calls. Anyone who knows him even remotely is very well informed on Corpse’s distaste for phone calls and upholding a conversation over the phone. He’d even go as far as to say talking to a person face to face is less stressful for him than that previous option.

But still, seeing as how the person he’s trying to reach lives in a different state and is rather busy all the time, arranging an IRL meeting is basically impossible at the moment, and sending her a text results in running the risk of having the text overlooked or completely lost in the sea of notifications she probably gets on the daily.

Therefore, a phone call was his only proper way of reaching her. And it’s what’s got him pacing the room with his nervousness peaking.  He doesn’t know anything about this girl, nothing concrete at least. He was referred to her by Jack who brought her up in their passing conversation when Corpse mentioned how paranoid he was regarding his upcoming merch project. He specifically stated he doesn’t want anything basic and he wants the clothes to be fashionable, suitable for anyone no matter the age or gender and to be endurable. With all the love he has for his fans, he doesn’t want to give them anything less than what they deserve - the best.

“My friend’s the person you’re looking for.“ Jack said enthusiastically and confidently, “She helped me design the latest merch line I put out and I’ve never been more satisfied with my own merch. I’m planning on offering her a position in Cloak for her birthday. Make sure not to let that one slip out if you give her a call though.“ He warned half-jokingly. 

Bottom line, with that kind of intro, Corpse couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued. And so, he asked for this girl - Y/N’s contact info from Jack before he went to surf through her social media where she thankfully posted plenty of pictures of her creations, never failing to mention specifications in the caption of each picture so the viewers would get the perfect and most detailed idea of how high the standard for her work is.

And so he’s finally managed to talk himself into dialing her number that’s been sitting in his phone for weeks now. As he paces his living room, his nerves chewing him out like a dog would with a toy, listening to the ear piercing ring of the dial waiting to get picked up by the girl he’s trying to reach. 

Just then, Corpse’s head turns so that his eyes meet the glowing red numbers on his digital clock on his desk and he damn near hangs up the call right away - it’s half an hour past midnight. Fast as lightning, he removes the phone from his ear, his thumb flying over to press the red ‘end call’ button. Just then, a faint ‘hello’ reaches his ears, coming from the phone’s speaker. She’s answered the call.

He hurries to put the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey, sorry for taking so long to pick up, I ought to clean my desk eventually cause my phone was literally BURIED under a pile of papers.“ A cheerful sing-song voice rattles his stale and sleep deprived consciousness, as if awakening him from a half-dream state. “You’re either a wrong number caller or a last minute client, aren’t you? Need something done urgently?“

Corpse is taken the hell aback by her strong and downright awing first impression. Not to mention her energy at an hour unsuitable for calls. Lord knows he wouldn’t have picked up if her were in her spot. With the intention of not wasting any more of her time than necessary, he hurries to explain his situation. “Y/N, right? Um no, I’m neither actually. I was told about you by a friend, he said you were a real miracle-doer with fashion design.” He trails off for a second, not completely sure of how to hold this conversation, “Uh, sorry for the odd timed call, I lost track of time. I’ve been meaning to call you for hours now but I...I was nervous.” He cringes the second the word leaves his lips, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he wants to leave her with a great, better than realistic impression of himself but he does and as of now he deems his attempts as ultimate failures.

He hears her giggle from her end, rifling through what sounds to be papers, “Yeah, I’m her. And boy is it refreshing to get someone who’s calling with an actual purpose.” She sighs as if a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders, “And don’t worry about the phone call anxiety. Makes two of us, to be honest.”

This catches him off-guard. The last thing he’d expect is for this girl to have phone call anxiety. In fact, she appears to be a natural, God-given talent at carrying conversations and upholding chit-chat with people. Maybe he’s a little too quick to judge - probably, considering he’s ‘known’ her for less than five minutes and knows nothing but her occupation, her name and the state she lives in - but that bubbly persona she greeted him with gave off the impression that it’s immune to any and all kinds of social anxiety - or anxiety in general. To hear such an honest and counter-to-assumptions confession on her part rattles him a tiny bit. In a good way though.

“How does that work for you? Isn’t your whole job depending on your phone conversational skills?“ He doesn’t mind that he didn’t phrase that too perfectly or that he straight up blurted it out. He knows he’ll be understood. She’s obviously a person who understands. Not just something specific, but everything. She simply understands. How he drew this conclusion and how accurate it is, he may not know until further notice.

“Well...“ she sighs as if genuinely looking to give him a proper answer, “You see, after doing it for so long and having been caught off guard quite a few times with some absolutely absurd orders, I’ve grown prepared of literally ANYTHING and I have a line prepared for anything the caller has to say. I just no longer let them catch me off guard and it’s fine. Helps avoid any possible awkward silences.“

Corpse’s eyebrows shoot up, her explanation only raising more questions rather than providing answers. But he’s not gonna be the annoying dumbass asking those questions at close to 1AM and bugging her. After all, if she agrees to this partnership, they’ll be hearing and potentially seeing a lot more of each other soon. “Impressive, honestly. You’re gonna need to teach me sometime.“ He’s unaware he’s smiling until he catches his reflection in the window. However, he doesn’t bother hiding it. This conversation is actually making him feel good, serving as a reminder that he’s not the only one who periodically goes through turmoil over small things. 

She giggles again, this time the sound manages to draw a blush out of him, coating his cheeks, “I’d typically stray for revealing my secrets to professional success, but I’m willing to make an exception for you...” she pauses for a second as though she’s just now remembered something, “Oh shoot, I don’t even know your name.”

He wheezes out a nervous laugh, realizing he never introduced him, “Oh yeah, sorry, that’s my bad. My name’s Corpse, nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you too, Corpse.“ Y/N replies, sounding pleased but teasing simultaneously, “Now tell me, you didn’t call me about my phone call secrets, did you? What may be the real purpose of your call?“

Oh shoot, he himself almost forgot what he was calling for. Luckily, the reference designs displayed on his computer screen remind him. “Right, well, I’ve been thinking of launching a new merch line either this month or the next, depending on how long the procedure will take, and I needed someone great on my team to make some merch actually worth the money people are paying for it. And, as I said, I was told you were in that ‘someone great’ category.”

“Told by who, if you don’t mind me asking?“ She briefly cuts him off, her voice now giving away the fact that she’s half-absent-minded in this conversation, added evidence be the ruffling of more papers on her end.

“Jack. I mean, Sean. You know, Jacksepticeye.“ Corpse explains, contemplating whether he should’ve ratted Jack out like that. Hearing the sound of delight Y/N lets out eases his worries ASAP though.

“Oh Gosh, I haven’t seen that cutie in so long! He’s like a brother to me so a friend of Jack’s is a friend of min-“ this time she cuts herself off so abruptly Corpse thought the line was cut or she hung up on him. She doesn’t let him wonder for long though, “Wait, wait, wait....Merch? And you’re friends with Jack?“ She pauses for a second once again, once again not a long enough second for Corpse to speak up. “You’re a famous YouTuber, aren’t you?“

He was completely unaware of the fact Y/N hadn’t realized he was someone famous yet. In fact, he didn’t think of it because he thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to her considering she’s friends with Jack-fucking-septiceye! In his mind, his ranking is far lower than Jack’s - despite that mindset being absurd - so the last thing he expected was for her to have some sort of impressed reaction to have been talking to him on the phone this whole time. Hell, she doesn’t even know his full YouTube name or what kind of content he produces.

“WAIT!“ She shouts urgently, startling him a tiny bit, “You’re Corpse Husband, aren’t you? Oh my God, yes you are, how didn’t I put it together sooner? Ah crap, I really need more coffee for this.“

“No! No, you need more sleep.“ Corpse hurries to correct her but is very clearly ignored or overlapped with the many sounds that are coming from her end, “What are you doing?“

“You’re getting the first rough sketch of a design by tomorrow morning.“ She says, taking a sip of whatever beverage she’s acquired for the purpose of keeping her awake, “You go ahead and get some sleep, I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t worry about it.“

“I’m not worried about the design.“ He hurries to say before she, God forbid, hangs up on him, “It’s 1AM, woman, you need sleep! I don’t need those designs done by tomorrow. Hell, I don’t even need them this week!“

“You don’t, but I do.“ Y/N says, sounding almost breathless because of what seems to be overwhelming excitement, “You don’t get it - I’m designing merch for Corpse fucking Husband! You have any idea how crazy that is?“

“I personally would say it’s underwhelming. I mean, I’m no Pewdiepie, after all.“ He says, now sat at his desk with his free hand rubbing his temple as he stares at the designs he’s pulled up on his screen, ones he probably won’t need given that he’s now working with a professional.

“Oh, shut it.“ She chuckles, “Shut it and get some sleep, ok? I’ll talk to you in the morning.“

“Noooo...“ He leisurely stretches the word, “Tell me, Y/N, do you have Discord?” She clicks her tongue instantly, giving him a signal that the question he’s asked is bordering into the territory of ridiculous. He playfully rolls his eyes, “Alright then, lemme find you. If we’re partnering up on this, we’re both staying up.”

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t fully trust me with this? Like, I won’t be offended, I get it.“ She murmurs in-thought, the sound of clicking evident on her end. 

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t want me bothering you and want me to leave you alone?“ He mimics her statement, smirking to himself as he pulls up Discord, knowing he’s already won.

She huffs and tells him her Discord info, quickly adding a small comment, “...but only because great minds think alike. I know we’ll be getting along on this design pretty nicely.”

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, whatever you say.“ He laughs, “Accept my friend request and let’s drop this phone call.“

“Hey! - um, before we do that, I just wanna say a quick thank you.“ Y/N murmurs quietly, as if half-hoping he doesn’t hear her.

“For what?“ Corpse asks, his brows furrowing, unsure if they’re on the same page about this gratitude.

“For never once triggering my phone call anxiety.“ She admits, “I mean, I know I said I have lines prepared for every conversation scenario possible, but you totally caught me off-guard.“ She giggles a tiny bit, now sounding dangerously close to nervous, “But, not in a bad way, if that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn’t, I need more coffee.“

“No, no, it does!“ He hurries to reassure her, “It really does. And thank you too. Thank you for, you know, tolerating my BS at this hour. God knows I would’ve ignored your call if our roles were reversed.“

He hears her scoff and can’t help but laugh, “Huh ok, I see.“ She says, sounding greatly triggered and mock-pissed at his confession, “I’ll make sure to think of that next time you call me after midnight. Or at all, ever.“

Laughing his butt off, the only thing Corpse can think of in this moment is:

Damn, this girl and I are gonna get along

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[let-me-take-your-soul]

Do you know the trope where someone covers their lover with lipstick kisses? Can I request hc's for Crona, Maka, and DTK's reaction to their lover doing that?

Thank you for this request! It was super cute and I had fun writing it!! <3

~~~

Crona- Crona is going to be an absolute mess. They’re already a very nervous person and they aren’t used to positive physical affection. When their partner shows up putting on lipstick, Crona doesn’t think too much of it, but then when their partner pulls them close and starts showering Crona’s face in kisses, they get super flustered and overwhelmed at the sudden burst of affection, but Crona doesn’t reject it (the two of them would have definitely talked about making sure to establish boundaries).

When their partner pulls away, they can’t help but laugh at Crona’s reaction. Crona’s partner pulls out a small mirror and shows them their face, which is now covered in bright lipstick marks. The blush on Crona’s face only gets brighter and their partner laughs before snuggling into them.

“I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

“No! No, I mean… I actually enjoyed that. I… wouldn’t mind you doing that again sometime” Crona would say, blush still on their face but paired with a big smile.

Maka- Maka gets super flustered by lots of physical affection. She definitely enjoys it, but is just a gal who doesn’t always like to admit how sappy she can be. She and her partner would be hanging out, Maka talking about a good book she’s been reading and her partner listening to her while casually putting on lipstick. The two of them would fall into a comfortable silence, and then her partner would speak up.

“Hey Maka,”

Then when she looks towards them, her partner would start by planting one big kiss on her cheek. Maka’s face would turn bright red immediately.

“W-What was that for??” she’d ask frantically.

“Because you’re cute” her partner would answer before planting even more kisses across her face.

Once her partner was satisfied with how smooched up Maka’s face was, they’d give her a big ol’ grin. Maka hides her face by pressing it against her partner’s chest. They laugh and her partner nudges her a bit.

“You might want to wash your face”

“No, I’ll just use your shirt. You deserve to get it stained, you goofball.”

Kid- Now this one is a team effort. It would start off with one simple kiss on the cheek and Kid would insist that his partner kisses his other cheek too, because it wouldn’t feel right to not have a kiss on both sides. Then when he realized his partner left lipstick marks on his face, he’d have to make sure those were perfect too. He’d be coaching his partner on how exactly to kiss him, making sure it was the same pressure for each kiss, and making sure that his partner continuously applied lipstick in the same way each time.

To be honest, it didn’t bother him too much when he saw the first two lipstick marks on his face, however, the thought of it did stick in his head a bit. After a little while of back and forth between the two of them, it very much stopped being about making things feel symmetrical and much more about getting a bunch of physical affection from his partner. His partner would definitely catch onto it soon enough, and intentionally leave him with one kiss that didn’t align with any others plastered on his face. Which of course led to them dashing off with Kid in tow demanding one more smooch to make it symmetrical.

[ofhouseadama]

Ed gets drafted into the Navy right after high school, and in between finishing basic and getting shipped out to the Pacific, he promises Lorraine that the next time he sees her, he's going to propose.

after high school, Lorraine needs something to do so she gets a part time job as a secretary at the Diocese of Bridgeport helping wrangle parish finances and correspondence and other clerical and administrative work.

(this is where Lorraine first meets a young Father Gordon, who occasionally borrows her because she knows her way around a files room and takes excellent notes; he hears a lot about her boyfriend who's away on a ship in the Sea of Japan)

Ed and Lorraine write... a lot of letters during this time, which range from very chaste and heartfelt to NC-17 horny teenage screeds referring to their 3-day sojourn when they were seniors in high school, their many misdeeds in the back of Ed's car, and the time he snuck her into the Alamo Theatre after it closed so that they could have a "private showing" of a movie they remember very little of

when Lorraine is too anxious to sleep, she sews her wedding dress. she saw the pattern a few weeks after Ed left, and liked it, and bought it. she's been slowly buying yards and yards of satin and lace and tulle.

Ed squirrels away all the money that he can towards buying a wedding ring set for Lorraine. after he buys them while on shore leave in Tokyo, he keeps the rings in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, next to his heart, to feel close to her.

his ship strikes a mine and goes down in the small hours of the night in June of '53; the rings are in his shirt pocket, and Lorraine feels it immediately. Father Gordon has to drive her home from work, and believes her immediately when she says she knows something bad happened to her boyfriend.

Ed makes it home to Bridgeport ten days later; he gets in a taxi at the Navy yard and immediately goes to Lorraine's house. she meets him at the front door before he can even knock and tackles him on the front lawn.

he proposes to her while very exhausted and not exactly coherent.

technically, she proposes to him because she tells him they're getting married and she's not waiting any longer.

these are two hotly contested facts for years to come.

they get one very hasty pre-cana session in as the Moran family (+ Father Gordon a little bit) cash in all their political capital with the church to expedite a wedding as soon as humanly possible.

Georgiana and her friends plan the wedding, everyone is very concerned about Lorraine's dress. Georgiana tells them they should be more concerned about Ed's dress uniform, currently at the bottom of the ocean.

(He wears a suit from Sears. It's fine.)

the story of Ed Warren, hometown boy, as the sole survivor of the sinking of the USS Saint Paul makes the local papers and absolutely no one remembers to tell his father that he made it home until a full 24 hours later.

Ed and Lorraine get married exactly two hours after the end of the legally-required 72 hour Connecticut waiting period elapses. it's a Friday afternoon.

when he sees her in his dress, Ed absolutely cries.

their wedding readings are Romans 12:1-2, 9-18 and Sirach 26: 1-4. it's not a full wedding mass, due to time restraints. it's actually nothing like Lorraine thought her wedding would be like, but she's so relieved Ed is alive, and he's not allowed to go back to the war without being her husband.

their reception is some cake and champagne in the parish hall, Ed's hands have been shaking so badly all day that he can't manage to get cake in her mouth off a fork so Lorraine grabs his hand and sucks it off his finger.

by this point she's had three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach.

it's over by the middle of the afternoon, and they're speeding off to the same aunt's beach house that they ran off to when they were seventeen, this time with permission and this time knowing the whole drive down that they're finally going to have sex.

Ed spends much of the four-hour drive from Bridgeport, CT to Cape May, NJ rucking the many layers of the skirt on Lorraine's dress up her legs, running the hand not on the steering wheel of the car up and down the inside of her thigh, keying her up.

they arrive shortly after dinner, having eaten cheeseburger and fries in the car in their wedding clothes, and are suddenly very very nervous.

even though they've done everything except the technical deed itself.

as Ed peels himself out of his suit and tries to not psyche himself out, Lorraine goes into the bathroom and changes into the peignoir and robe she made for her trousseau. she comes out of the bathroom to grab her brush to take her hair down, but Ed asks her to sit on the bed and pulls all the pins and flowers out himself, gently brushing her curls.

when he's done, he moves onto gently touching her. the last time he saw her naked was also in this bedroom, as they shook with restraint. now they're shaking for other reasons, hands rediscovering each other's bodies and warming themselves on each other's skin.

kissing her neck, he reaches one hand in-between the halves of her robe as the other moves her hair off her shoulder, exposing more skin.

he rucks the hem of the sheer white peignoir up to her knees, then her thighs, then her hips. Ed decides that he needs to make her orgasm before they have sex, because if he doesn't last long, then at least she'll be satisfied.

he eats her out like a man with a point to prove, because he's nineteen and very much is one in this moment.

it's been almost eighteen months since they've been physically present together, and they didn't have much alone time together before their wedding, and Lorraine feels like her body is on fire. it's been so long, and she feels like a bullet leaving a gun. it doesn't take much to make her cum, and Ed manages to do it several times before she's hauling him up her body.

he's still not done getting her ready, unable to not think about every horror story he's heard about bleeding and pain and discomfort and the terrible jokes from his bunkmates.

(they're all dead now. he tries to not think about that, why he lived and they all died. why did he survive, if not to make Lorraine feel good? if not to make them both feel alive? he needs to feel alive, and when he drinks her with his mouth and feels her clench around his fingers, he finally does.)

he sucks hickeys into Lorraine's neck and chest and breasts, keeping her high as he circles her clit with the fingers on one hand as he plays with her nipples with the other.

he is harder than he's ever been in his life, he thinks, pumping two and then three fingers into her. she's wet and all over his hand, dripping down onto his wrist. he wants to eat her out again, taste her again. his mind is a feedback loop of her pleasure.

Lorraine is trying to touch him, but her hands don't feel entirely attached to her body. she ends up curling her fingers into his hair and pulling. the sharp pain is delicious, and he moans while lapping at her nipple and thinks he might see God.

eventually he realizes that she's begging, chanting "now, now, please now, Ed, please--"

they both feel lust drunk and clumsy, all limbs as they take their clothes off, as Ed slots himself between her thighs.

she hasn't touched him at all, and he thinks if she does he'll cum immediately.

he pushes into her slowly, incrementally, watching her face the whole time.

she gasps, bites her lip, scrunches her face up. then, it starts to feel good, and her eyes flutter closed, and she moans.

he doesn't want to move. he wants to move more than he's wanted anything in his whole life. dropping down on his elbows and forearms, he shakes while hovering above her.

Lorraine's mouth is a perfect "o," and slowly she tests out how she wants her legs, first pressing her heels into his calves, then his hamstrings, before pressing her knees in at the sides of his hips. it feels incredibly intense, and she's not quite sure what to do with herself. she no longer feels in control of her body. all of her gifts of perception narrow down to hyper-perceiving Ed, the red sheen to his face, the flop of dark hair over his forehead, the sweat dotting his brow, his heart in his chest. his racing thoughts, his love for her. she feels him inside her body and inside her head. she shivers.

she squirms, trying to get him to move.

he does not, burying his face in her neck.

eventually he realizes that, as she traces her hands up and down the side of his spine, she's whispering, "move, honey, you gotta move, oh God please move, Ed honey please--"

something in his head breaks loose a little bit, and he snaps his hips into hers. when she moves with him, it breaks loose entirely.

it's entirely unskillful and uncoordinated, but Lorraine is already so close to orgasming again that it doesn't matter. when she cums again, Ed's entire brain malfunctions and he stops, watching her, feeling it and feeling her. she reaches down and straight up spanks him, telling him to keep moving.

doubling down, he sucks on the tendon where her neck meets her shoulder, and doesn't last much longer than her.

he thinks his vision almost whites out, gripping her hips tightly as he cums inside of her before pulling out of her and collapsing, happily burrowing his face into her breasts.

Lorraine laughs, wrapping her arms and legs around him, holding him to her tightly.

the insides of her thighs chafe a little, and she feels a bit raw, but she likes it.

they almost fall asleep that way, but Lorraine knows that's probably not a good idea. her mother knew enough about their relationship to know that Lorraine needed a little bit of motherly advice before her wedding night, but not that much. after rolling him off her, Ed promptly falls asleep on his side of the bed.

he didn't sleep the night before.

Lorraine takes a quick shower, washing the shellac out of her hair and scrubbing the make up off her face. she doesn't bother to redress, just gets into bed with him. he feels her weight on the mattress and rolls over, blearily reaching for her to pull her against him. he's half in between dreaming and wakefulness, and slides his hand up to cup her breast in his hand.

"can we do it again?"

[salemwitchezz]

Could you do a continuation of "- getting misa to realize light doesn’t love her HCs"? Keep up the good work!

— getting misa to realize light doesn’t love her HCs (2)

part one

pairing: misa amane x female!reader

warnings: none really, just fluff <3.

a/n: thank you for the feedback! this took a little while only because i was busy for a few days, i wasn’t planning on doing a part two so i’m sorry if this is a little crappy :/. i hope you liked it though, @tokenlasagna!

gif is not mine. credit goes to owner.

if you were being honest, you weren’t surprised when misa told you light was kira.

in fact, you were kinda betting on it ever since L made the assumption, he did seem a bit suspicious— even you saw it.

but you couldn’t help feel a little betrayed.

after you had gotten misa to calm down at your apartment and make her some tea in the process, you sat the two of you down and told her that you needed to know everything that had been going on.

and misa did tell you everything, including information on the second kira— to which she gave herself up as the culprit.

but you weren’t surprised at this either, you had already connected the dots and figured she would have some entanglements with light’s schemes.

but you would make sure nothing happened to her, it wasn’t her fault that she had been tied into this situation.

i mean, maybe a little.. but you didn’t want to tell her that.

you assured her protection, from anyone and everyone.

and when the time came to devise a plan, you would be prepared to back up everything.

after contacting L and having you and misa tell him everything, a trap was set for light.

you didn’t forget to mention that light is the one who manipulate misa into doing his dirty work for him.

she would still have to face some consequences, but it was better than being thrown in jail and being put on the death sentence.

fortunately, the scheme in catching light by surprise went as planned even if there were a few errors here and there since he had found a way around a few things.

light had shown his true colors after he was caught red-handed, it was confirmed he was kira and he was thrown behind bars.

you thought everything would be fixed and would go back to the way it was in a world without kira.

but, with everything that went down, it took a toll on misa.

the man she loved and dedicated herself to had thrown her away and left her broken on the street, and on top of that, he was caught and she would probably never see him again.

you thought she wanted this, even she thought she wanted this. and she did, but when it came to it actually happening, it was a whole different story.

eventually, she had no other choice to get over it. but she wasn’t alone, you were always there for her.

you had spent a lot more time with her, and most of it was to make up for the time you lost.

in result, misa ended up getting closer to you. closer than she’s ever been with anybody. it wasn’t the same as it was with light, misa felt like she could actually be open around you without getting her head bit off.

in fact, she ended up getting so much more attached to you, she had started developing feelings that she didn’t even know were there.

like light, she got butterflies every time she saw your face, but it was even more intense.

misa had figured out her emotions not long after, but she didn’t want to go through the same situation as she did with light.

but she knew you wouldn’t do that to her, you were different. she could see that for herself.

“y/n?” the blonde girl squeaked, lifting her head from where she had her face buried in your stomach.

“hmm?” you hummed in response, glancing down at her and taking notice that her tank top’s spaghetti strap had fallen from her shoulder. hooking one finger around it, you pulled it back over her shoulder before focusing back on the blonde and her sweet brown eyes.

it was a ridiculously hot summer in japan. both you and misa were dressed in tanks tops and shorts, the slider door to your apartment’s balcony had been wide open, allowing the air to come in since the conditioning in your apartment building wasn’t cool enough.

you two were usually like this, when she was on top on you— on the couch preferably, usually taking a nap or watching a movie. she liked being close to you, and it only fed your love for her since you absolutely adored the girl.

“you know, i never really got to thank you.” misa’s honey sweet voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you tilted your head. “for what, misa?”

“for helping me— you know.. see the truth with light and everything. i wouldn’t have listened to anybody else, i didn’t even listen to you at first.”

you chuckled, resting your head back down on the armrest of the couch, “yeah, you are a bit hard-headed. but your safe now, that’s all that matters.”

misa pursed her lips and laid her head back down on your stomach, “yeah, i know. but, i should have listened earlier.”

you furrowed your eyebrows and took a deep breath, placing a hand on top of misa’s blonde hair to pet it. “it doesn’t matter now, misa, it’s over. you need to stop thinking about it.”

misa frowned to herself, she knew she should have been happy with the outcome of everything— but she just wasn’t satisfied with the way she made you worry for her over the last few years.

“but i can’t, i hurt you. i’ll never forgive myself for that.”

you scoffed, “who cares about about how i feel—“

“i care about how you feel, y/n!” the way misa shot her head up and the defensiveness in her tone had taken you aback, and you propped yourself up on your elbows so that you could meet her eyes properly.

you blinked at her slowly, “i— i know that, misa.. um, what’s gotten into you?”

misa let’s her head hang with her arms still on either side of you, you heard her take in a deep breath. “i really like you, y/n— in more ways than you know.”

your heartbeat picked up, and you moved her strands of hair out of the way so she got the hint to look up at you. “i think i know.”

with that, the blonde girl shot forward and captured your lips in a kiss. it caught you by surprise, and your heart beat at an inhumanly fast pace. you eased into it, placing both of your hands on her cheeks tenderly to deepen the kiss.

it was short and sweet, and you were certain you were as red as a tomato when she pulled back to look at your face with a nervous smile.

you mirrored her expression and sighed contently, “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for that.”

misa’s nervous smile turned bashful, relieved at your positive reaction instead of the opposite that would serve you both an awkward situation.

leaning in closer to your face, misa whispered, “it should have happened sooner.”

[jaeminzie]

lion boy | l.mh

↳ mark lee x fem!reader

synopsis: you would never ruin your slytherin image by exposing your crush on the gryffindor head boy. but for mark lee, you’d put it into consideration.

genre: fluff

word count: 2,074

a/n: a new series hehe, i’ve been procrastinating on this but i’m rlly proud with how it turned out ! mark lee best boy sigh ( also happy holidays :] )

part of ‘the dreamies in hogwarts’ series

“can you quit your act already?” your best friend pulled you through the hallways so powerfully causing both of your green robes to flap everywhere, gaining some raised eyebrows from the paintings surrounding your moving bodies. you continued to wince as her grip on your wrist became tighter and her strides became faster, you swear her heavy foot stomps could be heard throughout the castle.

you huffed in annoyance. your best friend has been side eyeing and sighing throughout the entirety of herbology whenever you spoke, but now she decides to speak to you. “what are you on about?” you let out a deep breath once she lets go off your wrist when you reached the restroom. thankfully, it was empty so no one can see you absolutely destroy your friend after she just destroyed your bones from dragging you too hard. “no need to drain all our energies, y/f/n, just talk to me.” you snapped but added a tad bit of sincerity, while dusting your robe.

she stood there, arms crossed and tapping her foot on the tile while watching you with grimace in her eyes. “infuriating, you are.”

“i’m quite aware, thank you very much.” you clicked your tongue and turned to the sink next to you to wash your sweaty hands, not sparing a glance at your friend stood in front of you.

the clicking sound on the tiles stopped and you could see her arms dropping by her sides in the corner of your eye. “you know i love you, right?” despite the wholesome meaning of her words, the way it sounded off her tongue seemed a different story.

breathlessly chucking at your friend, “you have an absurd way of showing it, but yes. i’m also aware of that.” you sighed, wiping your hands on your robe which made your friend cringe as she saw the water streaks appear on the ‘special’ robe.

“you’re the one to talk.” her arms made their way back up against her chest all crossed.

you furrowed your eyebrows so much that you could feel a headache coming. “okay now, what are you talking about?”

“always so oblivious, y/n.” she brought up her hand to tuck in a piece of your hair behind your ear, making you slap her hand away. “get out of my face before i hex you, mark lee.” she mimicked your voice and giggle using an obnoxiously high pitched tone. “you really need to work your on flirting skills.”

your face softened at the mention of his name, and began to heat up once your friend noticed the change in emotion in your eyes. you quickly replied before she could further taunt you, “saying that i want to hex someone means that i’m flirting with them? make it make sense.” you paused to roll your eyes. “and i don’t giggle.” you scoffed, trying your hardest to stop yourself from blushing.

“if you really do despise that boy like how you claim you do, you would’ve done it by now.” she poked your cheek with the tip of her wooden wand. “but you haven’t.” she smirked at you, waiting for the response she wanted but she was not going to get it out of you. at least, not that easily. after a good portion of silence, she dropped her smirk and waved her arms up in the air. “oh my god, just say you like him!”

“i am not saying i like a-“ you whisper, “-a gryffindor.” your friend rolled her eyes at your immaturity. “but is it really that obvious? do you think he’s noticed?”

and her smirk that you wanted to slap away made another appearance. “god no, lee has got to be the biggest dimwit of the school. i can’t believe he’s head-boy of gryffindor.”

you glared at her. “please, he’s not the biggest dimwit if you’re around.” you smiled at the satisfying reaction she gave. “it’s all out of love, babe.” you caressed her hair and reassured her since you were slightly fearing your life after the look she flashed you.

you began to walk out with your friend stomping behind you, clearing still frustrated as her plan didn’t go her way. though she wasn’t about to give up that easily, she needed both you and mark to stop rejecting your obvious feelings toward each other.

though, what both of you failed to hear were the giggles echoing in the bathroom. it seems like your best friend doesn’t have to work so hard for her plan to work.

—

it was a tiresome day and you wanted nothing more than to go back to your common room and relax with your peers. the whole day you’ve gotten weird looks and quick glances from people who you didn’t know even existed. you weren’t phased by it. as a slytherin, it wasn’t uncommon to get odd looks from the new students since they don’t know any better and stereotype. though, it seemed like everyone was looking.

a free period is all you needed, and that is what you had at the moment. using the precious time wisely, you chose the middle courtyard to spend time by yourself in. you walked your way to the area humming your favorite tune since you can finally get a break, then making yourself comfortable on the grass. sighing contently, you took in the fresh air and admired the greenery surrounding you before pulling out your potions book to study before attending after your free period.

being so focused on the words on the book that you barely understood, you didn’t notice the sudden shade casted upon you before hearing someone clear their throat from above you. you turned your head up to that someone — mark lee.

“uh hi,” he croaked. “free period?”

you laughed at the boy, making sure it sounded more like a scoff rather than a giggle. “yes.” you went back to reading the book laid on your lap, ignoring the boy dressed in red. you could honestly barf at how dashing he manages to look in that horrid color.

you could slightly see him fidgeting with his fingers as he tried to say some words, making your heart flutter. “oh same.” you made sure your hair covers majority of your face before smiling at his dry response. he was trying so hard but to him, it wasn’t enough. to you, it was enough to make you feel nauseous over how adorable he was being. god, your best friend would pay to see this moment. you rolled your eyes when you realized that you’d have to share what’s currently happening to your friend later. then she’d finally brag over how she was right all along, never ceasing a moment to use the fact that you’re head over heels over a lion boy against you. but there was nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to mark lee.

“what do you need?” you continued to flip the pages of the damaged book because you couldn’t show your tomato face just yet.

“okay uh-“ he cleared his throat. “i just wanted to inform you that there are rumors going around.”

“about?” you sounded completely uninterested in the topic which surprised mark. you became disappointed since you had hoped that he came to talk to you because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated to. you guess that’s what happens when you aren’t the sweetest to the boy you’ve liked for years.

“apparently, moaning myrtle heard your conversation with y/f/n earlier today and she’s been telling every girl who enters the loo.” he spoke cautiously, trying not to press the wrong buttons of yours.

you felt your heart race. though, you weren’t sure if it was out of nervousness or excitement. maybe both? yes both. you could feel the beating of your heart throughout your whole body and you hoped that mark couldn’t hear how embarrassingly loud it was. you stayed silent until you managed to piece yourself together enough to look at him. “and you’re telling me this because....?”

his voice cracked. “i don’t know. maybe because...” and he cleared his throat once again. “i like you too.” he shoved his hands in his pockets and made direct eye contact with you. you mentally applaud him for the courage, perfectly exhibiting his house’s prominent trait. but the long silence and you not attempting to create a response made his eyes look at everything besides you who calmly sat legs crossed on the grass. he failed to see the adoration that you have for him in your eyes as he was too busy worrying that he had made you ‘despise’ him even more.

mark, undeniably the most popular student in hogwarts, was the one standing above you and looking down at you, but it was obvious that you are the one whose got him wrapped around your finger.

you smirked slightly once you realized that you can have some fun in this. “you think that i’d have even the slightest interest on the muggle born, lion boy that you are?” you teased, quirking your eyebrows.

the overly nervous boy obviously didn’t catch the joking tone laced in your voice but being the gryffindor head-boy he is, mark puffed up his chest and spoke with full confidence. “yeah i do think that.” after getting no response from you, his chest fell down and his back began to hunch. replying with a soft tone that almost made your lip quiver, “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have even believed in the rumors in the first place. i’ll tell everyone to st-“

the guilt became bigger and bigger the more he talked, and you just couldn’t take the image of him standing there not knowing what to do with his hands anymore. “well you’re right.”

mark’s eyes were popping out of his head with his mouth wide open. “seriously?”

“i mean, wasn’t i obvious?” you stood up and wiped your robe during the process.

he raised his eyebrow and refrained himself form laughing. “you truly have a special way of showing it then.” despite the lighthearted tone in his voice, he still couldn’t look at you.

“so i’ve been told.” you giggled, slightly covering your mouth with your fingers. giggled. mark thought. he immediately looked at you at the sound of your giggling since he’s never made you do that before, and it made his pride swell seeing your eyes crinkle and face glow red by his words.

mark was so entranced by your appearance, he’s never seen you like this before and he could definitely get used to it. so entranced that his body began moving for him, leaning closer and closer with his hands reaching for your waist.

before he was close enough to get a taste of your chapstick, you separated your lips with your index finger. you tutted, “not yet.”

“yet?”

you hummed at his question. “if you work hard enough.” you bend down to gather your books from the ground and mark followed your actions, handing your books.

“of course i will, you know me.” he teased while standing back up with you and flashed a side smile that caused the release of the butterflies caged in the pit of your stomach.

the bell rang, indicating the end of class which meant that everyone should be coming out now. you looked at mark once more, “fortunately.”

his smile grew but disappointment took over his face when he saw you barely stepping back from him.

before turning your back, you poked his chest with your pointer finger — getting surprised at how muscular he felt. wanting to have more fun, you leaned close to his ear and whispered, “i’m counting on you.”

the feeling of your lips brushing against his ear made mark’s face heat up and focus unclear. he only managed to see you strut into the hallways, leaving him flustered and shaking his head at your antics that he found so endearing.

mark continued to watch your figure become smaller and smaller the further you walked away, only getting pulled out of the trance once his friends called out his name. he looked back at you and was met with a genuine smile that you gave him, which made him stumble as he was trying to make his way to his fellow gryffindors. you’re going to make me lose my mind. mark thought. and you made sure to prove him right.

[numptypylon]

Epilogue

I added a short epilogue to Reunion and Intersection today, but I also wrote a much longer one, full of fluffy comfort, to get through the angst-writing in the first two chapters. It’s unedited, unfinished and ridiculously self-indulgent, and I don’t think it really goes with the story, so I elected to not post it, but I’m attaching it here, under the cut, for those interested. Keep in mind it’s a reject for a reason though; this is what my writing looks like in the explorative phase where I’m looking for the point, and in this case I didn’t really find it XD

~2K under the readmore

Callum got there early. A lot of people eyed him warily, but a letter from Queen Janai was a good smoother-of-grumpy-elf-tempers.

No-one had seen Rayla, so… she was probably not here yet.

He went to the inn, bought a large room, lit a roaring fire in there, activating the Sunfire rock he used to keep warm at night under the covers of the bed, and calling for the tub to be filled. It had the usual Skywing heating arrangement, only needing a good Fulminis to heat the water.

He resisted flying out to find her. He risked missing her again, and her leaving town before he got back.

It was about… hitting the point of intersection.

So, he waited at the city gates. He didn’t have to wait nearly as long as he expected, considering the distance she would have had to traverse. Maybe she had recovered and had travelled faster than he thought.

It was definitely her though. A small, lone figure on the mountainside.

He intended to wait for her until she got to him, but then she stopped to lean against a tree and he realized that she had not recovered and was up there sick in the snow… and that resolve evaporated like it had never been.

Like he would ever let her struggle alone a moment longer than she needed to.

 **

 It was a measure of her exhaustion that she didn’t notice him until he was basically right in front of her, and even then, her reaction was so much slower than usual.

It still… it was hard to believe it was real. For her too, surely more so.

He numbly pulled his scarf off, packing it around her neck and head. He grazed her cheek and felt it and she felt it and… she felt it, because the tears that had built up in her eyes spilled over at his touch, slipping down her dirty and flushed cheeks.

She looked ready to drop, and felt it too, when he put his arms around her and her disbelief gave way to relief. Whatever ridiculous level of stubbornness had kept her upright for the last day and night of walking through snow and up mountains when she should have been in bed… fell away and she slumped almost completely in his arms.

She sobbed hoarsely for a bit, and he let her.

And she let him, when his hand cupped the back of her head and her hair tickled his fingers and it hit him too that… it was really real, she was here.

They needed to… get to the inn though, so he pulled away and wiped his face. They could… and probably would… have a longer cry and a longer hug later. But she was sick and cold and there was a roaring fire and a filled bathtub two minutes of flight away.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I knew you were coming this way and that you were sick. And I booked a room for… you.” For them both, he hoped, but-

“What?” she blubbered. “But… aren’t… aren’t you mad?”

“I mean, of course I am, but… that’s not really… that can wait.”

“I’m…” she laughed weakly, more tears spilling over. “I’m so happy to see you and there’s… so many things I would like to say and… and I’m such a mess right now and so tired and I’m just… I’m so tired I cried earlier just because a stupid pine branch hit me in the face and knocked me off my sled and it continued down the mountain without me and I’d have to walk instead and-“

“Hey, hey!” He stroked down her flushed, wet cheeks, along fresh scratches where presumably that branch had hit her. Sledding, huh… she always was extremely resourceful and oh so daring. And that explained how she got here so fast. “Rayla, it’s okay. You can rest first. I’ll take care of things… of you. For as long as you want me to, but… definitely for the next few days.”

“How c-can you… are you… here-”

He leant his head against her forehead, relishing in the feeling of contact, even if her skin was clammy and too-hot. “That’s… complicated,” he said. “And also simple. You called me here. I came.”

“Manis. Pluma. Volantis.”

 **

 She staggered, when they set down, steadying herself on his shoulder, and Callum was glad he had elected to land in front of the inn instead of at the city gates.

She definitely wasn’t well yet, her breath rasping in her throat, her forehead beading with sweat, cheeks and ears flushed. The fever had maybe broken, but it hadn’t quite left. And she was exhausted, trembling with the effort of staying upright, her eyes dull and glassy.

People were staring, when they went inside, but the innkeeper came over and recommended the soup of the day, and their house-made herbal tea blend with Sky Yak milk, and assured them it would be brought to their room shortly, with a look of very obvious sympathy at Rayla.

And then the door shut behind them.

“I owe-” she started, but he cut her right off.

“No. You’re owed,” he said tightly.

“Owed what?” She sounded… nervous.

“Soup. Hot tea. A warm bed and a fire someone else made. General fussing. Love. Forgiveness. Kindness. A damn break, for once.”

“L-love?”

“Yeah, love.”

Her clumsy fingers fumbled at the clasps of her armor. They were still ice cold when he touched them, the skin red and no-doubt sore.

But she for once didn’t resist any help he gave, sinking gratefully into the tub he had prepared. A warm bath was possibly not great for her fever, but… it was pros and cons and he needed to warm up her hands and feet.

She was barely conscious when he helped her back out of the tub, so he just put her down on a towel on the bed, drying her hair as best he could. He at least managed to get her awake to pull off her own wet underwear and pull his clean night shirt over her head.

 **

 “Callum?” she asked, because… she wanted things, and she could have them. “Stay with me? Please.”

He pressed against her back, warm and real.

His hands engulfed hers, big and soft and familiar.

Full of real little details that her brain hadn’t accurately recreated.

The callus at the side of his right index finger, from his charcoal pencil. The scar from a clumsy sparring accident at the second knuckle.

His voice when he said her name and when he told her it was okay.

His kinda… snuffling non-snoring sleep-sound.

And new things, that she hadn’t known to add.

His arms, still skinny, but stronger than they had been.

His too-long hair flopping over his ears.

And things she had yet to find out.

 **

 “Morning-“ she muttered, as she woke, feeling warm. And her throat felt a lot better, too and most of that sticky, gross fever feeling was gone, although there was still some sluggish daze, everything just a bit vaguer and floatier than it should have been.

“Afternoon,” Callum corrected lightly, but there was something not so light underneath. “You slept for… 14 hours. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I bet… you were worried.” That was a long time to worry and not wake her to assuage it but just sit in it, watching her sleep.

She reached out to stroke his furrowed brow. Her hands were bandaged though, so she couldn’t touch him properly. She didn’t remember, but did recall something about Callum saying he had called a doctor, and then she must have conked out pretty hard and slept through it.

She clenched and released her hands experimentally. Seemed alright except for being stiff and sore?

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, staring down at the thick bandages.

“Except for the illness that nearly killed you because you’re such a massive dummy? Lots of things.” He took her hands, starting to unwind the bandages. “For your hands, hopefully only frostnip. I’m supposed to check that, when you woke, take you back to the doctor if there’s signs of deeper frostbite.”

There was some thick ointment, probably the reason for the bandages. Her hands looked reddened, the fingers a bit swollen, but… not so bad. Nothing was white or black or blistered, so really, nothing to worry about, where frostbite was concerned.

Callum wasn’t satisfied with a visual inspection though, cupping her hands in his, methodically checking she could feel all her fingers and make a full fist.

“I think it’s okay,” he said, breathing out, relieved. He did tend to catastrophize- “No… no risk of amputation this time-” His fingers slid across her left wrist, the faint whitened scars from where the binding had dug into her skin and where the sunforge blade had burnt her.

“It’s definitely okay,” she said. “Barely hurts.” She cupped his face, feeling his skin just fine against her fingertips. “It’s not like back then, okay?”

“How do you feel today?”

“Better. Way better. I’m ready to go, if-”

“What?!” He stared at her in disbelief. “Absolutely not. You didn’t hear what the doctor said. But I did, she got here while you were sleeping. And absolutely not.”

“What-“ Was it not just a regular bug?

He breathed, slowly and deliberately. “You’re okay, it’s a regular winter infection going around. But you did a number on your own immune system with the hypothermia and mountain climbing and… she said you were undernourished, dehydrated, stressed and critically exhausted. And that you would do well to take a week or more to fully recover, during which you should eat and rest plenty, stay warm and keep stress down. Does that sound like your regular travel, to you?”

Well… not so much.

“So, I’ll ask again, how do you feel today?”

“Tired,” she sighed. “My hands are stiff and achy. My throat hurts. My legs are wobbly. My head feels full of snot.” She smiled, despite all that. “My heart is happy to see you. It’s okay if you’re- I know… that it’s complicated.”

“It is. We have… some things to talk about. Promise you won’t leave until we do?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Then, I think we should put the complicated things away for a few days. Until you’re better and it doesn’t hurt your throat to talk. Because… we have a lot of talking to do.”

“You don’t… need to stay. For those few days. If it’s hurting you to-”

He sighed heavily. “It does.” Yeah, he couldn’t say that it didn’t. Being around her with so much… unresolved. She didn’t want that for him. She didn’t… want to have those long and hard conversations right now either, when she was still tired and fevered and liable to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. “But it would hurt me more to leave. Didn’t it hurt you? To leave?”

“Yeah.” So, so much.

He reached out to pack his scarf around her throat more closely, the soft, warm knit a soothing feeling against the raw ache.

“Lie down, okay? Be sick? I’ll read you a story. It has murder and dismemberment in it, I asked the innkeeper specifically.”