#the rest is under a read more because it’s just me rambling and musing about one of the guys

[inkykeiji]

Omg pleaseee write carnival attendant dabi!! I wanna hear about all the tricks he had with pretty girls so bad lol. When a carnival came to my town once most of the people that worked the rides and stuff were foreign (I live in America) and there was this one guy that was Russian that was super cute. He would use his accent and speak in Russian to flirt with/impress all the girls lol. I can so see dabi doing that with Japanese and I would eat it up lol but I'm so interested to see what you have in mind for it!! ❤

i’m glad ur interested in the idea anon!!! i think it’d be a fun lil piece to put out for october/autumn/halloween!!!

omggg hehehe that’s actually really cute??? do you remember which ride/game he operated? and i can absolutely see dabi doing that with japanese, too!!!! oh my god just the thought has me swooning <333 this carnival comes to my town once a year and the guy i’m thinking of has been with them for several years. their workers are mostly composed of white men that will leer at you and call you names like ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ etc, and the dudes who run the game stalls like to aggravate boyfriends but i believe that’s a tactic that’s used everywhere; y’know, make the boyfriend angry, make him spend money at your booth to prove that actually, he can win his girl that big stuffed bear, thank you very much.

the one attendant i remember being very cute, who was only with them for a few years, was a guy who ran the himalaya ride. he was young, maybe in his early to mid-20s and very lanky & tall. his work shirt didn’t fit him right, it was a little big and it exposed a good amount of his collarbone, and he had a lot of ear piercings. but he was very quiet and he had a sort of melancholic air around him that just made me feel ??? i don’t know, sad for him? he barely spoke to anyone at all (a lot of the other attendants are very chatty, both with coworkers and with guests), but he would bob his head to the music of the ride which i always thought was v cute haha c; it’s been over ten years since i’ve seen this man, but i still remember him so clearly, and i genuinely hope he’s doing well for himself.

i think one of the reasons why he stuck out to me so much was because he was so young compared to the rest of the workers. carnival life has always intrigued me, as it attracts people from all walks of life for various different & personal reasons, and i wondered what this man’s story was. obv it could’ve been as simple as wanting a job that travelled but idk!! he always struck me as being profoundly sad maybe i was projecting on him honest to god who knows

[ironmanfridgemagnet]

Boys Like You: Jonah's Ending

"Originally, if I'm being honest, I was coming out here to hit you up with some other cheesy pick-up line. But Amy told me that I needed to 'man up', so here I am." Jonah three his arms out at his side, shrugging his shoulders as a nervous laugh slipped past his lips. " pouring my heart out to you, if you'll let me."

Jonah took your silence as a indication to go on, a small smile beginning to form on his face at the fact you hadn't already told him to shut up and go away. Though he would love for things to work out in his favour, he would be more than happy just for you to listen to what he had to say, to know the truth.

"I like you. I never knew how to show it and then I heard this rumour that you liked someone in the store, and I had this stupid hope that it was me. So then, I came up with this convoluted, pretty obscene now that I think about it, plan."

If it weren't for the seriousness of his tone, you'd be laughing at the flustered urgency of the mannerisms he was using: everything accentuated by the way you think of his hands which would inevitably come back to rest on his chin.

"I thought, for some stupid reason, that it would be a good idea to try these over the top flirty pick up lines with you. And don't get me wrong, I know how cheesy they were, but when you weren't flustered you were laughing - and, oh my God, you have the most beautiful laughI think I've ever heard - and I thought that meant something."

Jonah's hand was cupping the back of his neck, a red hot flush covering the apples of his cheeks as he stared down intently at the floor, eyes flickering up to meet yours between words.

"But, I get it now, 'cause as flustered as you got, I could tell you got uncomfortable too - so I'm coming clean, if you will. But, it only felt fair, to make sure you knew the entire truth, that you knew how I really felt." Jonah's hand dragged along the side of his face as he rambled, falling loosely down to his sides as he seemed to be coming to a natural end to his rant - though knowing Jonah, they never truly ended.

You'd listen to him for centuries, eternities even.

"And as I'm doing it now, I feel like a complete and utter fool, like I should've said nothing because you're being completely silent and I'm starting to get a little-"

Slinging your arms across Jonah's shoulders, you closed the gap between you, lips pressing to his in a clash of teeth and tongue, uncertainty and eagerness only egging you on. Jonah had frozen, though only briefly, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close to him as he could; almost too close as the pair of you lost your footing, stumbling into each other and the front of your car as you stopped yourselves from falling. A wide smile curled onto Jonah's raw, red lips, hand gripping your hips as though his life depended on it. It was only second before Jonah was pulling you into another kiss, his hands leaving your hips to clutch the sides of your face as he slotted his lips against yours, his back against the side of your car in the lull of evening.

"You ramble a lot." You mused, a hand coming to caress the wrist of his hand against your warm cheeks. "Do you know that?"

"When I get nervous." Jonah confirmed, a dopey, lovesick smile wide enough and bright enough that you were certain his cheeks were burning.

"Never stop." Breathy laughs escaped the two of you, wrapped in each other both literally and figuratively. You couldn't get enough of the tousled hair and swollen lips and the way his cheeks were still burning hot and flushed. Holding his face in your hands, you smiled up at him. "Never ever stop."

"So..." Jonah suddenly became nervous under your touch, avoiding your eyes and heating under your finger tips. "What does this mean? Do you- do you like me? Or am I reading into things? I get if I am, just tell me-"

Pressing your lips to his once more, you threaded your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently scratching as your smile broke the two of you apart. "You think too much, J."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do." Holding his face between your hands once more, you decided to spell it out for him. "I like you too genius. And I'd love for you to take me out some time."

"Oh! Well, that can definitely be arranged." The smirk on Jonah's face had you leaning in for another kiss, one of the first few of what would be many to come.

Word spread quickly around the store of the two of you becoming a couple, but it didn't crush Marcus or Garrett in the way they'd expected your inadvertent rejection would. Jonah was sensible and reliable and extremely loving - they had nothing to worry about as long as you were in his arms.

And the loved up moments of the two of you around the store rarely showed: lingering touches, cringey attempts at flirting and oddly time consuming end caps were all the public eye got to see of your relationship - but you wouldn't have had it any other way. You balanced each other out well: much like the different flavours of the smoothies you loved to try so much.

————————————————————————

Hoped you liked the Jonah Ending!!

Why not check out the other endings here.

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your kind words on my last chapter! This is the first idea I had after the first fic in the Come Back Be Here series, but I could never plot it out into a full fledged fic in my head. And I know the multi-chapter now says complete, but like with Married But as Friends Series, I don’t know when those scenes will be written and don’t want to leave you all hanging! 

Summary: At Downey’s request, a story during lunch reveals how Sarah and Connor met five years back. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of a terminal illness, and almost sexual assault. (Though it doesn’t go into detail) 

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | My Playlist for This Fic

But If I Took a Turn a Second Late?

“Hey, Dr. Downey,” Sarah’s smile was gentle as she entered the older man’s hospital room. To her credit, her smile remained genuine even when the man’s reality was anything but. In fact, the realization of the man’s reality was pretty grim with all the machines he was hooked up to, whirling and beeping in time with the doctor’s breathing and heartbeat. Still, her husband’s mentor smiled widely when she entered the room and repositioned his hospital bed, so he was sitting up more.

“Mrs. Rhodes,” the doctor greeted her by her married last name in a kindly tone, despite her many attempts to tell him that he could call her Sarah.

“So what is my favorite medical student up to today?” He asked her as she pulled his pull-out table toward the bed. She placed the tray of food she had carried from the cafeteria. She chuckled,  “I bet you say that to all the medical students but I had a break, so I thought I’d come check on you and bring you lunch.”

She hadn’t got him anything special. With his cancer progressing the way it was, he could barely keep anything down these days. Or if he could keep it down, the chemo made everything have a weird taste to it, so she got him a very bland chicken noodle soup. If nothing else, it would keep him warm for a moment. She thought while she took a seat at the end of his bed. Her lunch of a homemade pasta salad Connor made for dinner the other night, when Downey had practically shoved them out the door, in front of her.

“You and your husband are too good to me.” Doctor Downey mused, picking up his plastic spoon.

“Agree to disagree,” Sarah said, taking a bite of her salad. But the elderly man shook his head, “Since I’ve been admitted for the long haul, you two have been here. If I don’t have you checking in on me one day, it’s him or vice versa. At night you don’t go home, instead, you both come here and spend the night. Until I have to kick the both of you out.”

“You think that’s for you?” Sarah joked with a slight chuckle, “That’s more for my sake than yours because really, I’m just following my pillow around. Because he tends to move around, despite my many attempts to keep him still. And without him, I don’t sleep and I don’t think you want to see me cranky.”

The joke had its intended effect as he chuckled, “No, I suppose not.”

Though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Yes, she stayed because Connor stayed up here, worried for his mentor and because her husband didn’t want Downey to be by himself when…Sarah’s heart constricted. It was hard to imagine the world without the man in front of her. This man had taken not only Connor under his wing, but her in a way too.

It seemed so insignificant now. That they knew his terminal diagnosis was running down the clock. But it had still been Downey who had found her a month ago, in the midst of one of her many freakouts-this one about graduation approaching at an alarming rate-and it was Downey that didn’t try to calm her down like everyone (except for Connor or her roommate in medical school) else would’ve. Instead, the doctor had let her ramble. From her smallest worries to her biggest fears about the future. And when she was done, he didn’t try to reassure her either. Instead, he agreed with her about some of it and validated the rest even though Sarah was almost completely sure he didn’t agree with it. Then he distracted her by telling a story from his days in Hawaii.

Then there was the matter that she didn’t want Connor by himself when it happened. She had seen her husband grieve before. From losing a patient when a case hit just the right button to affect Connor (those usually happened after a phone call with his father) But she knew Connor like he knew her. Downey’s unfortunate but coming death would hit her husband hard. And she didn’t know how hard or how he’d react. It set Sarah’s nerves on edge, but Sarah wasn’t about to let Connor deal with his grief by himself. Therefore, Sarah was attached to his hip these days when they weren't on shift, despite his protests for her to go home and sleep in an actual bed or eat something that wasn’t from the hospital cafeteria.

“Can I ask you something?” Downey’s question pulled her away from thoughts of the near future.

“Sure,”

“I’ve always wondered how you and your pillow as you’re calling him, met, considering one of the very first things your husband told me about you was about your long-distance marriage.” He explained while nodding to her neck. Sarah looked down and sighed. She had been playing with her ring without realizing it. Something she did, no matter where it was on her chain or her hand when she was worried.

Sarah smiled gently. The story of how Sarah ghosted him months after they met, may have been Connor’s favorite. But the story of how they first met was hers.

5 Years Earlier

Connor growled as he tugged the tie off from around his neck and shoved the offending garment into the pocket of his suit jacket as he approached the bar. What a fucking shitty night. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. He was only in the city for one night. One night where he had to play the perfect Dolan Rhodes Department store heir. And he had thought he had been doing well, but then his father had to open his mouth. Long story short, Connor left early before the ice swan statue could get knocked over. (again and even though it was a year ago, Claire still wouldn’t let it go)

He probably should’ve gone back to his hotel. Drink himself into a stupor in peace and then he would wake up hungover for his flight the next morning. But the bar was only right down the street from where the gala was held. Not to mention cheaper than room service probably would’ve been. (Not like that was a big concern though. His father hadn’t cut him off. At least not yet. Though the threat had been put out there a few times now, Connor wasn’t concerned. He had a good job and thanks to his trust fund, he wasn’t paying off any medical school debt)

“Can I get whatever beer you have on tap?” He asked the bartender when he walked inside the building.

“Bottle or mug?” The woman looked up from where she was wiping down the bar.

“Bottle’s fine,” Connor answered, looking around the space. It was still early. For the bar crowd at least with only three other people here. An elderly couple, who seemed to be on a date sitting at a table near the back. And a girl, with curly brown hair flowing down her back, sitting at the other end of the bar.

The bartender set a bottle down in front of him and Connor handed her his ID. The woman nodded, accepting it and pushing it into her register. He’d get it back when he closed his tab. Nodding his thanks to the woman, Connor turned and took a large swig of his beer as he found a secluded table in the other corner of the room. Away from the elderly couple. He didn’t want to be happy. No, tonight he wanted to commiserate in his misery. Taking another swig, Connor shook his head and released a heavy sigh.  What a fucking shitty night.

A few hours and another beer and a half later, Connor was feeling slightly better. (But that could just be the buzz he had going on.) The bar had picked up. The elderly couple left as more people came in. But the girl from earlier remained, with the same drink from earlier too, Connor noticed. Now Connor wasn’t trying to be creepy, watching this girl. But ten minutes ago, this older guy-not quite as old as the couple from before but definitely marginally older than both Connor and the girl at the bar-had walked in and zeroed in on the girl. He also wasn’t taking a fucking hint. So yeah, Connor kept an eye on the girl because it was the right thing to do, but he was also trying to let the girl take care of it herself. (Also because whoever did scheduling for this place really sucked. Because whoever did it had left the poor bartender alone on a Saturday night)

Dimly, Connor wondered if this was a regular occurrence and the man knew this. Because he only got in the girl’s space when the bartender was busy tending to someone. After thirty minutes of watching the girl try and side-step this guy nicely multiple times, (By his count five to be exact) Connor stood and made his way over to them.

“Hey Babe, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Connor looked at the girl, a grin plastered to his face. With the number of people in here, Connor was ninety-percent sure the man couldn’t know that he had been here the whole time. The girl realizing that Connor must be trying to help her escape gave a small smile in return. “I must’ve missed you when you came in, Babe.”

“Excuse me, we were-”

But Connor didn’t so much as glance in the man’s direction as he pointed his thumb in the direction of his table. “I got us a table back over there.”

She handed Connor her beer as she pushed herself off of the bar stool. Once she was standing, Connor wrapped an arm around her shoulders and directed her back to the table, away from the other man’s prying eyes.

“Thank you,” she spoke quietly after she sat down and because the guy was still watching them like a hawk, Connor took the seat beside hers. Their arms touched when one of them moved. “He just wasn’t taking no for an answer. No matter how many times I said or put it.”

“I kind of guessed. I had been watching after you told him no the first time,” Connor said, before realizing he was still holding her beer, “Oh sorry.”

He placed the beer back in front of her, “I’m Connor, by the way.”

“Sarah,” she introduced herself before she said, “And it’s okay. I don’t think I like beer much anyways.”

“Then why get it?”

“Because I’m celebrating. But I don’t really drink much so I wasn’t sure what to get.”  Sarah explained, scratching at the label of her beer bottle. Well, that explained why she had the same drink since he had been here.

“What are you celebrating?” Connor found himself asking.

“Getting into Northwestern for medical school. And I would’ve asked my roommate to come with, but she had a date with her girlfriend and I didn’t feel like third-wheeling with them.”

His lip twitched upward as he scanned the menu above the bar, “Like calls to like it seems.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

“You just got into medical school and I’m going into my second year of residency,” he answered as his eyes found something. He glanced back at her, “You like ice cream-milkshakes?”

“Yeah,” she answered his question before asking one of her own, “You work at Lakeshore or Gaffney?”

Connor couldn’t help the chuckle because him? Working in Chicago? Yeah, that’d happen when hell froze over. “No, it’s a little farther out than that- in Riyadh. I’m just in Chicago for the night because of a family obligation.”

Her brown eyes widened, “Riyadh? If my high school geography classes serve me right, that’s on the other side of the world?”

“Yeah, but you can pick my brain about it in a minute,” Connor said standing and offering her his hand, “Right now, I need another beer and you deserve something you actually like for making it into medical school.”

A blush formed in Sarah’s cheeks. Connor thought she looked cute blushing like that. But she already had one creepy guy hit on her for the night; she didn’t need another.

“I’m going to put my hand on your back, if that’s alright,” Connor said quietly, flicking his blue eyes to where the old guy was still staring. He watched as her gaze followed his before blanching. She nodded. So he placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the bar.  

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sarah said, still slurping at the enormous milkshake, filled with rum and vanilla ice cream, and a large amount of chocolate syrup.

He shrugged, “You just got into medical school.”

“So that means you pay my tab and buy my first alcoholic milkshake?”

Connor shrugged again. He didn’t mind. The bartender just assumed and combined Sarah’s tab with his when they ordered her milkshake and his next beer. Connor just didn’t correct her and when Sarah tried to protest, he waved her words away.

“If you want, you could count it as a belated birthday too.” He told her because according to her the date on her ID Sarah Reese's twenty-first birthday had passed about two months ago.

“I saw your ID when she handed it back to you.” He said, seeing the look of confusion in her adorable brown eyes. (Damn his thing for brown eyes.)

“Oh,” she blushed.

“Did you graduate college early? Because it’s been a little while but I know the approximate age I graduated was closer to twenty-three than it was twenty-one.”

“High school actually,” she told him. There was a lull then. But then Sarah glanced up at him, “So tell me, on a scale from one to ten, how bad is med school going to be?”

“Oh, your first year, you’ll be scared shitless. I was.” Connor chuckled, then it grew as Sarah’s face morphed into a mask of horror.

“That is not a comforting thought because you seem so much more confident than I am.” She said and Connor just threw his head back and laughed more.

“We ended up talking until the bar closed at four in the morning. And exchanged numbers before he left that night.” Sarah finished with an easy smile.

“So I guess the rest was history after the bar?” He asked. Sarah shook her head with a little self-deprecating laugh at her past self’s actions “Oh no. We didn’t talk for almost half a year after that. And it was entirely my fault on both ends.”

“What?” He asked, sounding a little shocked and Sarah laughed as her pager went off. Glancing at it, she saw Dr. Choi had a patient and wanted her help with their case.  “Another story for another time, I’m afraid because it seems my break is up. In fact, ask Connor about it. It’s his favorite anyway. I’ll be back later okay? After I’m done with my shift. More than likely with my husband in tow.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I know you’ve talked about how all the Cullen pairings are eventually going to implode - glad someone said it - but I was wondering if you wanted to talk a little bit about what you think Meyer INTENDED with the pairings - tropes and whatnot? And what you think would have to change in her narrative to make what was intended what we actually saw on the page? Or — what do you think each cullens’ Perfect Spouse would actually look like?

Anon is referring to this post.

And well, you've certainly given me quite the challenge.

Some Musing Ramblings Before We Begin

Sort of like asking me to make Dramione work, I'm not sure I'm the person to ask this. Anyone who reads my work knows that... well, that's a lie, every story I secretly write is a love story. But it's not Twilight in any way shape or form.

Twilight simply isn't a story I would set out to write. This isn't a good thing or a bad thing, it just is, which means that asking me to make Twilight work the way Meyer intended is probably not your best bet.

But I'll try regardless, it's what we're here for.

Bella/Edward

Meyer intended Bella Swan and Edward Cullen to be the best and brightest of all the pairings in Twilight. They have the love and devotion of Carlisle and Esme, the physicality and sexual attraction of Rosalie and Emmett, and are such a grand love that even depressed Marcus takes note. This is the love story that drives the entire series.

Edward is an improvement upon Carlisle, a Carlisle with even better control, and the most beautiful man you ever did see. He's also a gentleman, a man of his time and from an era where chivalry was alive and men courted women. Bella is one of those disturbingly altruistic people who makes you feel bad about yourself just by being in the same room. She's incredibly selfless, kind, and also quite brave.

Together, despite their ups and downs and the many obstacles in their way, they're disgustingly perfect.

However, that's not what we get. On Edward's end he's... Edward about loving Bella. On Bella's end, she has no idea who Edward even is but she does know he's beautiful and special.

And to get what Meyer actually wanted... Christ, Anon, I'll try.

So, the first problem, if Edward was truly a good person then Twilight would never happen.

Edward would have his first day of Biology, miraculously maintain control, and flee to Alaska as he does in canon. However, he would not return. Edward in canon returns due to his budding obsession as well as his wounded pride, in fleeing Forks he feels he has lost to Bella. When Carlisle later points out that a girl's life is on the line, that Edward is foolishly endangering this girl solely for his ego, Edward refuses to acknowledge this.

A good man would never have returned from Alaska, the Cullens would have moved in short order, and Bella may or may not have died in a parking lot or in Port Angeles.

That said, what if Bella is not, in fact, Edward's singer? Then there's not this constant debate of him eating her or his creepy, budding, obsession with his personal brand of heroin.

Well, the trouble with that is that Edward would then never notice her. Even were Edward not a colossal dismissive dick, required per this ask, Bella is one mortal out of many and someone he shouldn't grow close to. Associating with her just exposes her to unnecessary danger from him and his family. Edward is a guest in our world, nothing more, and a kind Edward might chit chat with her in Biology but even if he had a growing crush he'd keep his distance.

As he tried and failed to do in canon, actually.

Basically, change Edward alone, and it's not enough. The Edward Meyer wanted would never get together with Bella. At least, not without a lot of AU-sauce.

But let's look at Bella for a moment. Bella's character also has to be entirely stripped down. The Bella of the books is extremely depressed and her infatuation with Edward is fueled in part because of this. Edward's obsession with her gives her worth.

Obviously, in this new and improved edition of Twilight, Bella can't use either Edward or Jacob for validation. She has to be able to stand on her own two legs. If she does use either for validation, then the relationship must come to an end, as she and her significant other realize just what it is Bella's doing.

The trouble is, what does this not-depressed Bella have to fall in love with? Yes, Edward's beautiful, and that certainly goes a long way, but in canon he's a dick. Bella even thinks to herself that he's a complete dick (even when he's trying to be charming). Luckily for Edward she later decides that this is cryptic and therefore appealing.

Well, in AU land, Edward might be so damn charming that Bella likes him anyway but we come back to Edward keeping her at a polite distance.

So, what we need is a terrifying villain. Let's call him Angelus (though per Twilight this would probably be James). Angelus is a vampire that will force Edward's hand. For whatever reason, he decides to torment and ruin Bella's life, ending the hunt in either eating her or turning her into his bride. Angelus' existence forces Bella to be in the know and for Edward to have to take extreme action.

The pair become closer, grow through undoubtedly horrific trauma, and through said trauma Bella understands not only the pros of being a vampire but the terrifying cons.

Basically, it'd be this story. Just replace the name "Carlisle" with Edward and "Edward" with James.

Alice/Jasper

Alice and Jasper are supposed to have this ineffable, mystic, connection where they're together because... Alice saw them together. And in a way, that's true, but it's supposed to be a thing of beauty, soulmates if there ever were any, and instead it's this dumpster fire with nothing holding them together.

This one's easier in a way, well, sort of. Alice would have to be a completely different character and we'd have to see a lot more of Jasper.

Alice has a bad habit of treating those around her, even those she loves, as chess pieces. She'll put them in significant danger, court their misery, so long as it gets her the future she wants.

And she's extremely controlling.

Right away in the opening of Midnight Sun we see this and how it affects her and Jasper's relationship. The novel opens with Alice hovering, scanning the future for Japser fucking up, while Jasper just sits there in misery. Due to her obsession on making sure Jasper doesn't eat students, she actually misses Edward's plan to massacre Biology and his many plans to eat Bella Swan.

Even if she wasn't, this isn't good for anyone to live with. Jasper has very little concept of free will, whatever happens to him, whatever he'll do, Alice tells him and the worst possible option is always on the table.

For Jasper/Alice to work either Alice's gift needs to go (and that's... sort of all Alice is) or she has to tell no one any vision ever unless under extreme circumstances.

Which would be devastating for Alice. Rather than this mostly well-adjusted, perky, girl, Alice would be crippled by her gift. The weight of the world, everyone's free will, rests on her shoulders and she has to constantly avoid temptation to simply pick everyone's future for them.

Without the attitude Alice has in canon, I think she'd go mad with such a gift, or else be consumed by the responsibility of it.

Then we get to the mess that is Jasper. Jasper's complicated, and I don't want to get into it here, but his love story would have to be... too large to be put to the side like that. The redemption he'd need is not one that can be shoved into a few paragraphs told to Bella, it's frankly the kind of story that would drive an ordinary story.

So we'd have to see a lot of Jasper and Nouveau Alice. Which, of course, detracts from Bella/Edward which is the main point of the story.

Honestly, I take it back, there's no salvaging this relationship. They would have to be completely different people to the point where they're entirely different characters wearing nametags 'Alice' and 'Jasper'. Alice couldn't have her gift, which informs her entire character, and we'd have to see way too much of Jasper who is ultimately a tertiary character.

Carlisle/Esme

Thoughts on Carlisle/Esme.

Carlisle and Esme is a very 'spiritual' relationship per Meyer. They're... mom-bot and dad-bot. Alright, fine, they're the perfect parents with this deep love for each other and a very parental bond with Edward especially. It's the relationship Edward admires the most in his paired off family.

I don't even know how to fix this one.

Again, they'd have to be such different people. The trouble with Esme and Carlisle is that they share no values and are plagued by massive miscommunication. The Carlisle who is perfect for Esme... No, wait, this Carlisle is perfect for her, but that's because she's in Esme Land.

The Carlisle that would be perfect for a grounded Esme is not the one that exists. She'd want someone who would always put the family first, who would treasure her above all other things, that's not Carlisle.

Carlisle, similarly, would want someone that truly shares his ideals. That's not Esme.

So, we're back to nametag land, because one or both have to completely change for this to work. (Not to mention that Esme's probably not supposed to be Esme).

So, I've got nothing for this.

Rosalie/Emmett

I actually think these two are what Meyer intended. They love each other but are mostly held together by attraction. They're a very physical couple and good for the most part but inherently lesser than Bella/Edward.

Sure, I'd argue that they're the most put together couple in the house, but I think they're meant to have flaws. They work well together, but every other relationship in the Cullens has to be a step up or at least have something more to it.

Something Edward and Bella can be better than.

Conclusion

Dear god. Did I only manage to somewhat address Bella/Edward? Was that it? This was worse than I thought.

[spenciegoob]

Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler​ ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me. 

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing. 

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it. 

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around. 

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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[amazingmsme]

Annoying Turnabout

This was supposed to be a quick little drabble, but I have no self control and it got away from me. No matter, Ace Attorney needs more fluffy fics like this. Phoenix is so fucking cute when he’s embarrassed, and I probably made Edgeworth more teasy than he’d actually be. But that’s okay your honor, they’re smitten.

Miles Edgeworth was a composed man. He didn't often joke around and laughed rarely. His smile was more of a snide smirk, even when it was genuine. And to top it all off, he had an air of superiority about him, like he was too good for anything even mildly amusing. Which is why Phoenix was determined to make him crack.

"Y'know Miles, even though you were an uptight kid, you still knew how to have fun," he noted. Edgeworth cocked a brow, glancing up from the magazine he was reading. "Is that so?"

"Mhm."

"Your point being..." he prompted, trailing off as he went back to reading. Phoenix shrugged, the hint of a smile on his face.

"I don't know. I just never thought you'd grow up to be such a stick in the mud," he said, hoping to gain a reaction from him. Edgeworth stiffened, hands clenching and crinkling the pages as he glared at him.

"Excuse me, what did you just call me?" he said through his teeth.

"You heard me. Or do you need hearing aids?" he asked smugly. Miles knew he was just messing with him. Trying to rile him up. And he shouldn't give him what he wanted. But oh, how he wanted to play along.

"You're the one who needs hearing aids, old man," he said, a teasing note in his voice.

Phoenix chuckled and shook his head. "We're the same age, so you basically called yourself old." Edgeworth looked up, eyes wide and hair falling in his face. "Nhg- You know damn well that's not what I meant!" he said, slamming a fist on the table.

He merely smirked, propping his feet on Edgeworth's desk and leaned back in his chair. He even put his hands behind his head in a show of defiance. "Do I?" Miles glared harder and grabbed his ankles, shoving them off the desk. Phoenix flailed his arms to regain his balance as the chair teetered on its back legs.

Edgeworth hummed as he steadied himself. "Pity, I was hoping you'd fall."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he teased, leaning forward this time. Miles rolled his eyes and went back to reading. Phoenix huffed in annoyance when he was ignored. He stretched his leg out under the table and lightly stepped on the toe of his shoe.

He grunted and pulled his foot away, only for Wright to repeat the motion. He looked at him from over the top of his magazine. "Is there a reason why you're more insufferable than usual?" he asked.

The truth of the matter was that Phoenix thought he was unbelievably cute when aggravated. And deep down, he was a little shit.

"Nope," he said, popping the "p."

"What are we, five years old now?" Miles asked incredulously.

Phoenix shrugged. "Hey, I'd rather have a mental age of five than 50," he sassed.

"Wright. You are testing my patience, and you don't want to know what will happen when it runs out," he warned.

"You know what? I think I do actually," he taunted. Edgeworth let out a deep sigh and stood, straightening the collar of his suit jacket.

"Very well. If you want to act like a child, I'll treat you like one." Phoenix cocked his head to the side, staying still as he watched his old friend come closer. As Miles loomed over him, only then did he falter. He gave a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Uh, Miles? You got that scary look on your face that you use in court. Y-you know I was only joking, right?" he asked, trying to appear as innocent as possible.

"Believe me, I'm well aware. However, your little jokes aren't near as amusing as you may think. Don't worry, I'll give you something to laugh about." Before Wright could question him, he poked a single finger in his exposed armpit. He yelped and immediately slammed his arm to his side.

"You know what? You're right, I was being stupid and childish, I'll leave you alone now, I promise!" he rambled.

Edgeworth shook his head and tsked. "You will leave me alone. As soon as I teach you a lesson." When he took another step forward, Phoenix rose from his chair, standing behind it to use it as a shield.

"B-but you're usually so mature! I thought you'd be above something as childish as ti- as this!" he said, face turning bright red as he stuttered and failed to say the word. This only made Edgeworth's smirk grow.

"Normally I am. But you bring out the best in me Wright. Certainly a bit of immaturity is required to deal with you."

They stood there, just staring at each other for a solid 10 seconds. Phoenix's eyes darted to the side before he made a dash for the door. Miles easily caught him, arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him into his clutches.

"No no nohoho I'm sorry!" he giggled, shoving at his arm. Miles dug his fingers into his sides and he burst into bubbly laughter.

"For some reason, I don't believe you. You know, you're awfully cocky for someone who's so ticklish," he mused playfully. Phoenix's blush darkened and he covered his face with one hand.

"Shuhuhut uhuhup!"

"Why should I? You obviously can't make me in your state," he teased. He began kneading his soft belly and his laughter deepened and his thrashing increased. It was a bright and slightly goofy sound, and it was perfectly fitting for the ace attorney.

"Mihihiles dohohon't!" he whined through his frantic giggles.

"Don't what? Come on Wright, use your words," he goaded, one hand scratching up his ribs. The only response he got in return was a loud squeal. "Glad to see my memory is serving me well. Does Larry still abuse this knowledge?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"Yehehes okay? Nohohow quit ihihit!" he giggled, curling in on himself. His arms flailed about uselessly as Miles squeezed and prodded his belly. He snorted loudly and blushed profusely, hiding his embarrassed face in his hands.

Edgeworth barked out a laugh. "I forgot how you snort when you laugh too hard. How hilariously charming," he teased. Poor Phoenix was dying of embarrassment.

"Nohoho it's nohohot!" he argued, followed by another snort.

"Sure it is. And don't even get me started on this spot," he taunted, reaching up to scratch the nape of his neck. Phoenix arched his back with a shrill screech of laughter, leaning into Miles. He fell into a bubbly stream of giggles, not even bothering to fight back anymore. Not that he could get away even if he tried; Edgeworth was stronger than he looked.

"Still just as ticklish as when we were kids," he mused, shaking his head fondly. It was only when Phoenix started to hiccup through his hysterical laughter that he finally showed mercy.

He helped steady him as he regained his breath. "Yo- hic-you jeherk!" he scolded, cheeks still burning red. Miles rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know. I'm truly the worst," he joked along. They both chuckled.

"If you think I'm gonna leave you alone after that, you're wrong. I can't just let you get away with an attack like that! I have to annoy you twice as much now," Wright said, crossing his arms.

He merely shrugged, smirk growing. "In that case, I'll just have to tickle you twice as much."

Phoenix flinched and took a step back, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. "N-no you can't!"

"Oh can't I?" he asked, arching a brow. He cocked his head to the side in amusement. "I'd think again before testing my patience. Unless you're keen on finding out what I can really dish out," he warned, even winking at him. Phoenix whined and hid his face in his hands.

"I forgot how insufferable you can be," he grumbled.

"Well then you're really not going to like what I'm about to say."

Phoenix felt his heart both flutter and sink to the pit of his stomach at the same time. "What?" he asked, because the curiosity was going to eat him alive.

"I recall you admitting that you found all of this to be fun," he said with a triumphant smile. Wright's mouth gaped open, face turning pale before his blush came back in full force at the very accurate accusation.

"Wha- I- we were kids! Of course I liked it back then, it was playful roughhousing! I grew out of it!" he claimed, desperate to reclaim some of his dignity.

Edgeworth tutted, shaking his head. "Oh please, you know I'm too smart to believe that. You even went as far as to provoke me into action, resorting to your old methods in the hope that I would remember."

Phoenix was left speechless... Miles really hit the nail on the head with that one. He groaned, admitting defeat and flopping into the chair at the desk. He rest his head on the cool wood, wrapping his arms around his face to shield himself from Edgeworth's gaze.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of Wright. I find it rather amusing myself," he teased, sitting in the opposite chair. He looked up to glare at him.

"Of course you do."

"Oh please. Teasing's half of the fun. You told me so yourself."

Phoenix's eyes narrowed. "No I didn't." Then his eyes widened as he thought it over. "Wait, did I?" he asked aloud, more to himself than to Miles.

He shrugged. "No, but the fact you believed you could have only proves my point."

He let out a small, frustrated scream and slammed his head back down on the desk as Edgeworth's snide chuckling filled the air.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, toy play, forced masturbation, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Again, I’m always grateful to anyone who reads. Take care.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Wayward ho, away we go

💀💀💀

You bent and picked up your phone. The screen protector was cracked and peeling. You lifted it off and checked for any real damage. The stream had ended but it was still operational. You tucked it away as you looked between the bikers and grabbed your jacket.

“Well, thanks for the show,” you headed for the door but found yourself shadowed.

You swung the door out into the cold and that man, Sam, followed you onto the beaten down snow across the sidewalk. He stopped you before you could evade him and cross the street. You turned back and squinted at him.

“You know, I didn’t even get to pay my tab,” you pulled away from him roughly.

“So, do I get a name yet?” he asked.

“You guys are weird,” you grimaced, “no.”

“Come on, I just saved your ass,” he crossed his arms as his breath fogged before him, “I mean, you kinda owe me.”

“Maybe your friends need to learn to control their tempers,” you scoffed and hopped over the snow to cross the street. As you expected, he kept on and as you came to the other side, you turned on him. “Look, dude, you know that whole hard-to-get thing is a myth. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled under his breath and shoved his hands into his coat, “sure,” he smirked, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Not after you go and insult the whole club. Do you really not know the shit that is aimed in your direction right now?”

“Are you talking about yourself or…” you said wryly and spun back to your path, “it’s a small town, I’ll make it home.”

“Oh yeah, it is a small town,” he caught up to you and kept step with you, “you think I don’t already know where you live?”

You ignored him and zipped up your jacket as the cold began to seep in. As he said your name, you stopped short. A chill went through you that wasn’t the winter.

“You’re a creep,” you said.

He laughed again and slung his arm over your shoulder. You tried to wiggle him off but he kept you firmly in place against him. He began to walk, pushing you forward across cracked edges of ice left from diligent shovels.

“Honey, let me tell you something, what I did back there, you’re not just walking away scot-free, you get that? You want me gone? Well, then you can find out what happens without me watching your back,” he said as he squeezed you, “I can go back right now and tell those boys it’s free hunting. You won’t make it past the corner.”

You stiffened and shifted. You were never the brightest, you made dumb decisions, but you knew then this was worse than any before. Your fun time was really a big fucking mistake. How many warnings did you need before you realised how stupid you really were? It wasn’t just a meme, it was like the godfather sent a horse head straight to your door.

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” he mused as his arm slipped and his hand went to the small of your back. He turned you down your street and you glanced around at the familiar houses, “listen, you’re probably scared shitless right now? Or should be if you were smart enough to notice the gun on my buddy’s hip? Or the one on mine?”

“Is this how you always get girls?” you croaked through your dry mouth as you closed in on your nan’s house.

“I’m sure other guys like the whole snarky manic pixie dream girl thing you got going on, but I’m not other guys,” he returned as he stopped you just at the end of your grandmother’s walk, “and you didn’t just fuck around with a couple of bikers tonight, you insulted the whole club. In fact, I’m a little pressed about it myself.”

He reached out and slid two fingers into your jacket pocket. He took your phone out and turned it in his hand.

“No more of this,” he put it in his back jean pocket, “not tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go over the rest of it but… if I see one TikTok or one meme, I’m going to be knocking on that window just above your bed.”

You blanched and peeked over your shoulder. The curtains moved as you caught your nan’s grey hair disappear behind it. You put on that stubborn pout you always got when things didn’t go your way and narrowed your eyes.

“You know this isn’t normal, right?” you whined.

He snickered and puffed out his chest, “this is Birch. This is how things go.” He reached out and ran his thumb over your chin, “you’re young, you’ll learn.” He winked and looked over at your nan’s house and waved with two fingers. “Tell the old lady I say hi,” he grinned, “but I can always tell her tomorrow.”

You scrunched your lips as felt like folding inward. He turned and strode off back down the street, his shadow fading into those cast by the streetlights. You sighed and headed up the walk and pounded your soles up the stairs. You let yourself in but faced another obstacle in your night.

Your nan sucked on a cigarette as she watched you unzip your coat.

“I thought you quit,” you said as you hung your coat on the rack.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the club,” she sniffed.

“Well… I tried,” you lied poorly.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you did,” she flicked the ash into the carpet without concern, “I’m an old lady now, I can’t help you.”

“He’ll go away. He’s just… you know how guys are,” you knelt to undo your boots.

“I do, do you?” she challenged, “I don’t remember many boyfriends gracing my stoop.”

“He’s not--”

“That man will make himself whatever he wants to be,” she gristled, “that’s how they work.”

“Look,” you stood and rubbed your forehead, “I know I fucked up. Can you just--”

“Oh, I won’t just,” she snapped, “let me tell you something, don’t be afraid to grab a man by the balls and twist. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Nan--”

“I’m not saying you should, just giving you options,” she puffed out smoke, “but you gotta be smart and make the shot count.”

“I don’t… get it,” you blinked.

“You will know,” she tilted her head, “women got a sixth sense. You’ll find out soon enough.”

💀

Your nan’s words stuck in your head. Your day off was no longer as exciting. You woke with a knot in your stomach and a dull stone behind your eye. You descended to join your grandmother for coffee, restless as you didn’t have your phone to keep you busy. You fidgeted and drank the bitter brew without a hit of sugar or milk.

There was a lingering shade of dread as the wise widow’s words swirled in your head with the strange man’s promise. He said he’d be back, he didn’t say what time, he didn’t say for what, but he said he would. As much as you rolled your eyes at the club, those men proved they had conviction and Sam had shown himself to be persistent.

You ate porridge with cinnamon and fake sugar. Your grandmother’s daily fare. You left her to her crosswords and her ramblings about the daily news. You told her to change the channel and lighten up before you went. She quipped back at you to “smarten up” and for once, you had no rebuttal; she was right, it was only that it was likely too late.

You sat in bed and watched Netflix. You had your laptop but you didn’t dare look at your TikTok as it just reminded you of the night before. It all began to sink in as you felt the thick arm around your neck and heard the rough gristle of the boss’ voice. You only realised then how close you’d been to biting it and it made your skin crawl.

Hours passed and you began to pace and fuss around with random pens and books. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been threats to make you stop. Well, it worked and you would delete your TikTok once you got the nerve to open it.

Then you heard the heavy boots on the stairs and the pounding at your door extinguished the hope disguised as doubt. You cringed and stood in one place as you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You crossed your arms and chewed your lip. 

You were very bad at thinking things through. You didn’t consider that you hardly knew this man, though the fact was plain in your mind. You didn’t consider that you’d rarely been alone with a man. You didn’t consider that you knew exactly what his vulgar looks and suave words meant and that your denial could not erase them and all of these things were obvious and unavoidable.

A tapping came at the window beside the door and he waved to you as the blur in your vision cleared. You bit down on the inside of your lip and made yourself cross to the door. He turned the handle as you did and pushed his way past your reticence. He stepped in as you stumbled back.

You were good at acting cool, at being the quirky friend, the goofball, but when it came down to it, you were just clueless. It was better to seem apathetic and not let on how much of a loner you really were. You always wanted to be one of the cool kids but never really were.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he kicked the snow off his boots and it powdered over the mat, “this is a cute little place you have.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m scared, okay? I’ll delete everything and won’t do it again,” you raised your hands defenselessly, “you made your point--”

“Have I?” he sniffed as he let his leather jacket fall down his arms, “because I’ve been thinking all day. How to punish you. You see, these things, you have to be punished. That’s the rules.”

“I…” you backed away from him slowly as he sat in the wicker chair behind the door and unlaced his boots.

“Not my rules, the club’s,” he said flatly, “now, don’t be lookin’ at me like that because if I’d left you with those other boys, you’d be in the rubble of that garage.”

You gulped and hugged yourself as your eyes rounded. His eyes clung to you and he grinned as he stood.

“Well, I know you’re telling the truth at least,” he said, “you’re scared.”

He neared and walked past you. He circled you and slapped your ass. You flinched and he chuckled. You were startled at how quickly he’d disassembled you. You tried to ready yourself mentally all day for his arrival and yet you could never be prepared for that instance.

He strode along the other side of the bed and pulled out the top drawer of your night stand. He shuffled through your things and slammed it. He turned back and went to your dresser and slid out the slender drawer of necklaces and random receipts. He felt around blindly and you heard the familiar roll against the wooden bottom.

“Ah, jackpot,” he pulled out the silicone vibe and spun it between his fingers as you watched him over your shoulder, “I knew a girl once, kept it hidden under her mattress, another had this vase on her desk… but mostly, no one puts much thought into hiding when no one’s looking.”

“What are--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you as he put his finger against his lips, “it’s a very simple punishment and if I’m being honest, and let’s be clear I’m being very generous here, it’s not much punishment at all.” He took your hand and pushed the vibe against your palm, “you just gotta use that.”

You furrowed your brows as his warm hand closed yours around the silicone and he squeezed. You trembled and he let you go as he winked.

“Chop, chop,” he clapped his hands, “I can always come up with something else.”

You searched his face as he backed up and leaned on your dresser, arms crossed over his thick chest as his biceps bulged through his long sleeves. You peered down at the toy in your hands and traced the subtle curve with your thumb.

“Get comfortable, honey,” he coaxed, “when you finish, we’re done… for tonight.”

You were breathless as you turned away from him. Your head spun and you recounted all your mistakes as they rushed over you. You were so stupid. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself but that didn’t make it any easier. 

And you couldn’t do it. Even alone, you were always filled with the sense that everyone knew what you were doing with the vibe. That some lurker would hear you and expose your secret. A guilt atoned only in your pleasure.

“Tick, tock,” he chirped as you heard the wood groan against his weight, “you need help?”

“N-no,” you stuttered and dropped the toy on the bed.

You fumbled with your fly for what felt like forever. Your hands were shaking so bad and stopped as you asked yourself what you were doing. What you had to. You had no doubt in his promises. You were learning the hard way like you always did.

You shimmied your jeans down and slid them to your ankles. You got up on the bed and he tutted. 

“Panties,” he snapped his fingers, “don’t be shy.”

You didn’t look at him as you lifted your ass and tugged down your panties. You kept your legs together as you unhooked them from your ankles and shoved them aside. You cleared your throat and reached for the toy as his figure loomed along the top of your vision. You clicked the button and stared at the buzzing vibrator.

“Almost there, honey,” he purred, “I’m starting to think you’re liking this already.”

You sucked in your breath and pushed your legs apart as you closed your eyes. You put your hand on the bed behind you and leaned back as you shoved the toy against your cunt and hissed as it rolled over your clit. You cupped it with your palm and moved it over your bud as the ripples flowed from your core.

You clamped your lips in your usual habit. You held in the moans that threatened and tried to ignore the soft breath of the man in the room. Your whole body was alight with shame and lust fed by the vibrations. You dropped your head forward and winced as you sensed him come closer.

“Oh, honey, look at you just diving right in,” he taunted, “that’s it… you don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

“St-st-stop,” you rasped out, “I can’t--”

“You are,” he slithered, “now keep going. I see you getting close already.”

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the toy between two fingers and swirled the tip around your clit. You wanted it to be over and despite yourself, his voice fed your need for release. You hummed between your teeth and arched your back as you rocked your hips against the vibe hungrily.

“Mm mm mm, honey, I don’t think you could handle a man,” he teased.

You gasped and panted as you felt the pressure pulse and you sped up. Your other arm shook and collapsed as you fell onto your back and writhed as you closed your legs around your hand and the toy. You came with a whimper as your body shook and you turned onto your side as the orgasm echoed through you.

“Very good,” he cooed and you felt a dip in the bed. You opened your eyes as he leaned his knee on the edge, “smile for the camera, honey.” You gaped at the lens of your phone and snickered as he lowered it, “now that… I think that might go viral.”

“Wha-- No,” you sat up and reached out as he stepped back and you nearly toppled over the side of the bed.

“Hmm, I might keep it to myself,” he tapped his fingertip against the back of the phone, “I don’t really like to share…” he faced you again and tucked the phone away, “I usually keep my girls to myself.” You blinked and bent your legs as you tried to cover your bottom half. He pushed his chest out and exhaled, “you are mine, right, honey?”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart

You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.

It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.

“Cass told me I’d find you here,” Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”

Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”

“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.

You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”

“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”

You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.

“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”

“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!” 

“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”

“Then what do you need to ask?”

“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”

“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”

“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”

Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”

“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”

“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”

“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”

“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again. 

“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”

Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.

“That all you’ve got, cousin?”

A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”

“And as far as everything else?”

“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”

“‘Bout five hundred years--”

“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”

“Rhys . . . I don’t  . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”

A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.

“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.

Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”

He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,

“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.

Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.

I miss you, and I love you always,

Eris”

Both men were silent for a breath.

“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.

“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.

It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”

“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.

“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”

“What else comes to mind?”

You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”

“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”

“Seriously?” Cassian again.

“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”

“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”

“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.

As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.

There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.

Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.

Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”

“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”

When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.”

“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”

You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”

[sugasnote]

midnight.

word count; 919.

muses; yoongi x reader

a/n: edited my old writing and posting it here because why not. i want to get back to writing again, the whole process is cathartic to me. don't be a silent reader, feedbacks are always welcomed and feel free to ask/request. thank you for reading my writing <3

askbox

the night was warm and windy, leaves ruttling against each other. soft glow of the moon sneaking past as the curtains swayed in the air. the city fast asleep from the day's exhausting activities, apart from the occasional late night lovebirds and friends. but now, it was only yoongi and y/n.

they were destined to be together after all. after meeting through a mutual friend and shy glances across the room yoongi finally asked her out three months ago. one of the best decision he's made for a long time.

a fair share of stolen kisses, frequent pining and sheepish smirks, he was in bliss. studio dates where she would simply rest on the couch, listening to his ramblings to rare fancy night out where both of them held hands on the table the entire night. his cheeks covered in a pink hue and a cheeky grin to show her effect on him.

some may call say they were in a "honeymoon" phase. the initial jitters of love; texting if their s/o reached home safely, coffee dates as an excuse to see their s/o, asking to stay over and whatnot. but something felt wrong. the whole going out at midnight, having secret rendezvous, forbidden kisses, quick glances of their s/o across the room was a spontaneous events one could imagine.

but is this what he wants? to be settled in life quickly? not being able to pursue more and more challenging games and being restricted to it from his significant other?

all these thoughts haunting his mind while being entangled by his love. her lips was slightly apart and soft snores escaped from it.

her chest taking in all the warmth and tranquil peace, heaving up and down slowly. her head laying on his chest so his heartbeat is a lovely lullaby to her. her cheeks glowing in the dark, his love was in ease.

after a long day of work, all y/n wanted was to be in the comforting presence of her lover. his one arm resting at her torso, her shirt exposing a small portion of her tummy while his other one playing with her hair softly. her hand gripping his shirt harmlessly, almost as if he would break if she gripped too hard.

maybe being in love is not at all wrong. maybe these thoughts are tormenting him because he has never fallen hard for someone, fallen in deep love.

maybe he doesn't really know what love is. maybe it's a feeling of homeliness he gets whenever he's back from studio after a good session. maybe it's a feeling of comfort knowing his love would really be there no matter what circumstance it is.

maybe it's a feeling of joy whenever he sees his love in pure happiness, just genuine laughs shared between the lovers.

maybe it's knowing that there would be someone waiting for you at the end of the day no matter what.

maybe that's what love is. hundred ideas of what love is filling his sense. maybe it's-

"yoongi."

a soft voice interrupted him from getting his answer. her voice smooth enough to calm his worries and thick enough to bring comfort to him.

"yes, darling?"

"why are you awake? are you not sleepy?" she asks gently as she rubs her tired eyes with the back of her hand, she is glimmering even in the dark.

he let out a soft sigh, tightening his grip at her waist. pulling her closer to him if that is even possible, rubbing random patterns with his fingers under her (his) cardigan. y/n happily sighing into his neck as his body started casting more warmth, making her more sleepy and comfortable. he was the human embodiment of heater after all.

"i was just thinking about.. things. don't worry, love. go back to sleep." he answered back gently, cooing at how soft and plumpy her lips look. even with a slight drool, she is radiant.

"what were you thinking about? i want to know too," she was curious to know, even in her drowsy state of mind.

the fact that she is eager to know what is keeping him occupied and troubled on a late night even at her drowsy state made his heart warmer despite being the cold weather outside. is this what love meant?

"it doesn't matter now. go back to sleep, darling." he sweetly answers as he got the answer for his thoughts. his lips pressed against her forehead, lingering longer to make her worries go away. his hand coming up to craddle her cheek, tenderly stroking the nape of her neck.

he might not know what love truly is but he has an idea of it. maybe it's an abstract concept of powerful feelings gathered at his chest and heart whenever he sees her.

love is when everything around you looks luminous even when the sky is dark, sharing its tears with the lovers of the earth.

love is when the darkest of the days, you can see a hope with just your partner comforting you, whispering sweet nothings.

love is when you have a hope that in the end, that everything is will be alright.

love is terrifying, it's true. but it's more worth than a shot of try. love can be hopeless, cruel, brutal but it's worth in the end.

love is more of sweet joy of happiness than a ruthless game of enmity. love is a powerful feeling of endearment than repugnant. love has so much meanings.

so much interpretations. as they say, love is love.

"okay." she mumbled she goes to another sweet slumber.

and boy, is he madly in love with her.

[aboutdamntimeme]

She’s a Femme Fatale

Rodrick Heffley x Reader

‘Right, I think it’s best we take a bit of a break’ you say gently, looking towards Rodrick as his fidgeting finally came to a halt. You were only 20 minutes in into introducing Friedrich Nietzsche, when the leg bouncing, pencil twirling and backward chair tipping became too much for you to ignore. He sighed in relief and gave you a weak smile before getting up from his seat next to you at his desk littered with textbooks and notes in your scrawly handwriting, and onto the bed with a loud thunk.

You frowned. Usually, Rodrick was a lot more chatty than this - never missing an opportunity to unabashedly flirt, rather poorly, with his little pick up lines or awkward compliments. He always managed to mention how he was in a band and how ‘popular’ they were becoming. But today, as you whirled the chair around to face him lying flat on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow, you could definitely feel something off. You bit back the urge to ask him what was wrong - you didn’t want to pry. It’d been only a week or so since you started coming here every other day to help him out on request from your philosophy teacher; you didn’t want to push any unnecessary boundaries. So you got up and busied yourself with the the shelf in the corner of his room full with records and CDs that were neatly lined together and categorised, cover to cover, a rather ironic juxtaposition to the rest of his messy room.

You smiled at yourself with the names of bands you predicted would be there - Metallica, The Rolling Stones, Sex Pistols and what not - and laughed quietly when you found a small 80s section which featured ABBA and Grease’s soundtrack. As you skimmed over the spines of each with the tip of your finger, one particular album catches your eye as you stop to slide it out.

‘Do you mind if we listen to this?’ You ask into the quiet of the room, as Rodrick peaks curiously out of his pillow clad face. He sits up suddenly, beaming. ‘You like The Velvet Underground?’ He asks, the tiredness that clung to him suddenly melting away as you nod your head excitedly. ‘Yeah! This album is my favourite though’ you say, handing him the album as he takes it out of its sleeve and places it in his small record player which he pulls out from under his bed.

‘What’s your favourite song?’ He asks as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor at the foot of his bed. You pause in thought, a little warm in the face with the intensity at which he was gazing at you. ‘Probably Femme Fatale’ you sigh, ‘I love Nico’s voice. It’s so deep and beautiful’ He hums in agreement. ‘Didn’t take you for someone who liked rock’ he muses. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleasantly surprised’

‘Well just because I don’t wear band T-shirts to school everyday doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a little Velvet Underground every once in a while’ you laugh, pointing to his The Who T-shirt.

‘Touché’ he grins. ‘What else do you listen to?’

‘I’m more of a punk rock kinda gal. More into The Strokes and Weezer and Radiohead. But I do enjoy the occasional Clash or David Bowie - Brit rock has a special place in my heart so I’m always a little biased when it comes to that’ you babble on before before turning back to Rodrick, his mouth wide open in shock, eyes twinkling in admiration. His brain seemed to be almost buffering with this new information you were throwing at him, awestruck and completely at a loss of words.

‘Sorry’ you mumble, embarrassed. ‘I tend to ramble when talking about music’

‘No, no that was... really cute’ he smiled which had you looking away, heart beating loudly in your chest. He’s called you cute before on multiple occasions but it was never this genuine. You mumble a quiet ‘let’s listen to this then get back to work’ and put the needle down as the record began to spin.

That’s when he noticed it, a quiet radiance that surround you, like the slipping of gentle sunlight through the cracks of blinds that warmed up one’s skin in crisp winter mornings. The kind of beauty that didn’t necessarily stand out particularly from a crowd, but once noticed, would leave a soft impression on one’s mind, like a stain of a flower petal forgotten between the pages of an old book. Looking at you now, quietly singing along to Nico’s bluesy voice, he couldn’t help but feel this radiance of yours burning a little brighter, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

In that moment, he knew we was completely smitten.

I remember having a huge crush on Rodrick and decided it would be fun to write a fic about him for some reason. I hope this was a fun read even though I get a little geeky with the music bits whoops

[carat-archive]

under all this

➝ prompts: 

“I wish you could be kissed, Jane,” he said. “Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.” He flailed an arm toward the stars. — Maggie Stiefvater, The Dream Thieves 

13. “i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession (source)

➝ pairing: best friend!chanhee x gn!reader, former changmin x reader

➝ genre: fluff, minimal angst

➝ themes & tropes: best friends to lovers

➝ warnings: alcohol consumption

➝ word count: 1.3k

➝ notes: this is so self-indulgent it hurts, but anyways, here’s a drabble based off one of my favorite lines of dialogue from the raven cycle + a bonus prompt i found on tumblr. (this also made me realize i rarely write friends to lovers... should do that more often). special thanks to grace & husna (@masterninjacow​) for beta-reading this for me!

➝ scan credit: @hyunjae_gif / hyunjae-gif on twitter / tistory!

You think part of you will always love Ji Changmin. Another part of you knows the two of you were never meant to be.

You realize this when you see him at the altar, a look of pure adoration on his face as he gazes at his newlywed spouse. (He never looked at you like that.) 

It stirs up a cocktail of emotions, ranging from envy to relief. Eventually, you would have fallen out of love with him, and yet, you still wish it were you up there with Changmin, about to have your first dance as a married couple. 

Maybe you’re just lonely, you muse, downing your glass of champagne. 

Someone squeezes your hand beside you, drawing your attention away from the happy pair. Chanhee interlaces his fingers with yours, smiling softly in your direction. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder, leaning into his warmth. 

“Thanks for coming today, you didn’t have to,” you murmur, fingering the empty flute of champagne in your unoccupied hand. 

“I’m your best friend,” he states, a laugh spilling off his lips. “You know I would do anything for you.” He pries the glass from your hand, uncurling your fingers. “I’ll go get you another drink.” 

You do your best to mingle with the other guests without Chanhee by your side, encountering old friends and exchanging pleasantries until your cheeks begin to hurt from the effort of keeping the smile frozen on your face. After what seems like your fiftieth greeting, you begin to wander around the venue, hoping to catch a glimpse of Chanhee before you stumble backwards into a warm body. 

“Oh it’s you,” Changmin says, interrupting the stuttering start to your apology. He’s alone, you notice, his spouse likely making their own rounds around the room. 

Your words pour out on their own volition, accompanied by nervous laughter. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you. Sorry for bumping into you just now. I guess I should watch where I’m going.” 

Changmin chuckles, taking a sip from his wine glass. “No worries. How have you been?” 

“I’ve been doing well! I moved back a few weeks ago and I started my new job recently. We should meet up soon, it would be nice to get the group back together,” you ramble, shifting your weight from side to side. 

“I see you and Chanhee finally figured things out,” he says, smiling above his wine glass, following your eyes as they dart around the room.

“What do you mean?” 

“You two have always been in love with each other, whether you realized it or not. It’s why we never could have worked out.” He shakes his head, looking down at his hands. ”You would always put him first, and there was never room for three in your relationship.” 

Your mouth drops open in shock, but before you can formulate a response, an enthusiastic couple rushes up to Changmin, offering their congratulations. As he turns to face them, he calls out over his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

With that, he walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You need some air.

Pushing open the doors to the balcony, you step outside, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin. You wrap your arms around your sides, taking deep breaths as you gaze up at the stars.

Chanhee’s your best friend, your better half, the first person you talk to in the morning and the last one at night. He’s the only one who has seen the entirety of your soul and still somehow decided to stay by your side. If there were one person you had to spend the rest of your life with, it would be him. You can’t imagine a life without Choi Chanhee. 

But that doesn’t mean you like him like that, right?

The door creaks open behind you, but you don’t bother turning around. There’s only one person who would come looking for you here. As if to confirm your suspicions, Chanhee taps your elbow gently, extending your now-refilled champagne flute towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble sheepishly, leaning against the cool metal ledge of the balcony. You can’t help but notice the slight flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes seem to drink in the sight of you bathed in moonlight, like ill-fated Actaeon stumbling across the form of heavenly Artemis. 

Maybe your conversation with Changmin affected you more than you had thought. 

“Sorry I took so long,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I got caught up with some old friends.” 

“Understandable. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Chanhee hums in agreement, settling by your side, his elbow brushing yours. You ignore how the brief touch makes your skin tingle in excitement, as if you were a lovestruck teenager again. 

“What did Changmin want?” he asks.

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head towards you, taking in your distant expression. “You look pretty tense.” 

“I’m fine. Just thinking.” You take another sip of the champagne, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s just… I thought I was going to marry this guy someday, and here I am, avoiding everyone at his wedding while they’re celebrating.” You laugh bitterly, shoulders starting to slump downwards. “The thing is, it’s not that I’m not happy for him. I mean, I’ve been over him for a while. I just didn’t expect coming back to feel like this.” Gesturing vaguely, you let out a sigh before meeting Chanhee’s gaze. For the first time in a while, you realize that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Maybe I’m just not worthy of anybody’s love.” 

“That’s not true,” Chanhee replies, his face softening as he takes hold of your hand. “You’re worthy of mine.” 

You avert your eyes as you attempt to extract your hand from his grasp. “You’re only saying that as my best friend.” 

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he pleads, drawing your attention back towards him. Dropping your hand, he rakes his hair back in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m in love with you. Maybe I’ve been in love with you all along, and never realized it until one day I looked at you and realized I didn’t want to call you just my best friend, but also my lover, my partner. Mine.” 

Chanhee takes a deep breath before meeting your eyes again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You deserve to be loved.”

He leans against the balcony, placing his hands by either side of your body until he’s close enough that you can feel the illusion of his touch on your skin. You’re more than aware of the metal ledge digging into your back, but it doesn’t bother you—not when Choi Chanhee stands in front of you, looking like he outshines all the stars in the night sky, breathtaking and brilliant. 

“Can I kiss you? Just once?” he begs, gently cradling your face in his hands. “Just once, under all this, to show you the kind of love you deserve. And then we will never speak of it again.”

“Just once,” you breathe out, nodding your head. Just once to see what it’s like, to get it out of your system, to crush the butterflies suddenly fluttering around in your stomach.

Chanhee’s lips are soft, hesitant—caressing yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him infinitesimally closer to you, your fingers threading through his hair. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, indulging in the sweet alcohol on his lips, even as you tell yourself that it’s just pretend. 

You can blame it on the champagne running through your veins all you want, but deep down, you know that once you’ve had your taste of Chanhee, you’ll never want to let him go. 

Chanhee pulls away, a bittersweet look in his eyes. As he tries to detangle himself from your embrace, you quickly press your lips to his again, leaving him stunned by the sudden action. 

“I love you,” you whisper, placing your forehead against his. “I think I’ve always loved you, I just didn’t know it yet.”

A dazzling smile spreads across Chanhee’s face as he kisses you back, his thumb stroking your cheek softly. 

“I love you too.”

[stolen-pen-name23]

Yay Prompts! :D Congratulations again Katie! It was really hard to choose between them, but I decided on 12. “It reminded me of you.” for Obi-Wan and Anakin during the early years of their Padawan & Master time. (maybe with Obi-Wan bringing something back from a mission?) Thank you! <3

Ahhh thank you for the prompt! I love it! // from these prompts

So this is the spiritual sequel to this ficlet, but you don't need to read it to understand it. Here ya go!

---

It is the middle of the night on Coruscant and Obi-Wan is wide awake.

For once, he is not being kept awake by his own thoughts or anxieties. This time around, Obi-Wan is awake because his ship has just landed in the temple hangar after returning from Alderaan where the time is currently mid-day. Obi-Wan’s body believes it is time to go get a mid-day meal, but he resists the urge. He knows he needs to get adjusted to Coruscant time sooner rather than later — especially with a rambunctious padawan on his hands.

Obi-Wan smiles at the thought of seeing Anakin. They’ve been apart for two weeks now, and while Anakin has gotten more used to Obi-Wan going on solo missions every now and then, he still didn’t like it. Whenever Obi-Wan returned from his missions alone, Anakin tended to act even clingier than normal for a few days. Not that Obi-Wan minded too much.

He missed Anakin too.

He hopes Anakin isn’t too angry with him. Obi-Wan was supposed to be back at the temple in the afternoon, but he had slept through his alarms on Alderaan — his body exhausted from two weeks of travel and negotiations and pretending like he enjoyed the company of the politicians around him. Still, he can’t help but feel a little bad about his tardiness.

A spring bounds itself to Obi-Wan’s steps and he rolls his eyes at his own energy. Of course the one time he’s well-rested, he’s adjusted to the wrong time zone. A group of nocturnal Jedi conversing together in the hallway stare at him as he passes them by. He offers them a wave and ignores their questioning stares.

Despite his unexpected energy, he is relieved when he gets to his apartment. While Obi-Wan loves to travel beyond the smog-saturated atmosphere of Coruscant, he is always most content within the walls of the temple.

Quietly, he waves open the front door and takes soft steps through the foyer. With a flick of his wrist, a lamp switches on, bathing the entire living room in a warm glow and revealing golden hair peeking out of a bundle of blankets.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan questions in surprise. “What are you doing on the couch? It’s the middle of the night. Why aren’t you sleeping in your own room?”

Anakin blinks at him tiredly. The childish part of Obi-Wan that still remains can’t help but feel some sort of smug satisfaction at being the one to wake up Anakin for once. Normally, Anakin is the one hell-bent on keeping Obi-Wan awake. But the feeling does not last when he gets a closer look at his padawan. Flushed cheeks, unfocused gaze, sweat-soaked hair. Obi-Wan kneels down next to Anakin.

“Hey,” Obi-Wan says gently. “Are you feeling okay?”

Anakin shakes his head no.

Obi-Wan grimaces. “You should be resting in your room. What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you. You’re late.”

Guilt swells in Obi-Wan’s chest. He rests his hand on Anakin’s forehead and winces at the heat.

“That’s a pretty bad fever,” Obi-Wan murmurs more to himself than to Anakin. He moves his hand down to cup Anakin’s cheek and the boy leans into the touch. “I thought Master Plo was supposed to be checking on you twice a day?”

“He was. He came by this morning. I felt fine this morning.”

“And not this afternoon?”

“You were supposed to be here this afternoon,” Anakin states, blinking big puppy dog eyes up at him. The sticky feeling of guilt intensifies.

“Why didn’t you call for Master Plo? He would have come back and helped you.”

“I thought you were coming.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan sighs. “And I’m really sorry. But I’m here now okay? I can take care of you now.”

Anakin nods. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan gets up and starts rooting around the kitchen. “I should make you some soup. When was the last time you ate? I bet you haven’t eaten today. Oh Force we have nothing here. Okay, okay let me go find you something, and then we can—”

“Master,” Anakin says, cutting him off from his ramblings. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you start thinking out loud.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says sheepishly. “Well, have you eaten?”

“I ate this morning.”

“That was a long time ago,” Obi-Wan says. “I think.”

“Don’t care. Not hungry. Don’t feel good.”

“You might feel better with something in your stomach,” Obi-Wan suggests.

“Don’t think so. And isn’t it the middle of the night? No one eats in the middle of the night. It’s not a meal time.”

“Time is made up.”

“What?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. Maybe now is not the best time to bring up his existential musings. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m still on Alderaan time. It’s throwing me off.”

Anakin narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “I don’t want any soup,” he declares.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Fine. But I’m making ginger tea and you will drink it.”

“Ugh,” Anakin grimaces. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t care.”

Obi-Wan begins making the tea, his hands going through the motions on their own accord while his thoughts linger on Anakin. He was only a few hours late. Still. Guilt continues to coil around him like a snake. Obi-Wan can feel Anakin’s distress still clinging to his Force presence. He was probably scared and he was definitely disappointed. Obi-Wan frowns at the thought.

The high-pitched whistle from the kettle makes him shake those thoughts away. He brews the tea and returns to the couch to find Anakin half-asleep and shivering.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs. “Let’s get you to your actual bed. It will be warmer there.”

Anakin nods but makes no move to get up.

“Come on, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says, setting the tea down on the side table. He pulls the blankets off of Anakin and he shivers even more.

Obi-Wan guides Anakin to his bedroom and he slides into bed. Obi-Wan starts to pull the blankets up over him, but the Anakin pulls them away on his own. “I can do it,” he says sharply.

“Oh, can you now?” Obi-Wan says with a raised eyebrow.

Anakin huffs in reply, already tangling himself up in the sheets.

“Are you still mad at me?” Obi-Wan asks.

Anakin gives a petulant nod and it takes everything in Obi-Wan to smother his laughter.

“That’s too bad. I got you something while I was gone.”

Anakin perks up slightly. “You got me something?”

“Mhmm,” Obi-Wan hums. “But since you’re so mad at me, I know you probably won’t want to accept any gifts from me, so I’ll just hold onto it.”

“Wait,” Anakin says, sitting up. “I’m not that mad.”

“Oh really?” Obi-Wan teases. “You can forgive me for all my transgressions?”

“Some of them,” Anakin says tentatively.

“I guess that will have to do for now, huh?” Obi-Wan says as he digs through his robe.

Anakin nods his assent and watches Obi-Wan with bright eyes.

“Do you remember a few weeks ago when you brought home that loth cat?”

Anakin perks up even more. “Did you get me a loth cat?”

Obi-Wan cringes. He probably shouldn’t have led with that. “Kind of,” he says.

Obi-Wan presents the stuffed loth cat he picked up on Alderaan to Anakin and the boy’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Master!” Anakin says, giddy with excitement at the prospect of being given a gift. He probably hasn’t received too many gifts in his life, Obi-Wan thinks a little sadly.

“You’re most welcome, Anakin.”

“Why did you get this for me?” he asks, his eyes not leaving the stuffed animal.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan falters. “I saw it and it reminded me of you.”

Anakin pulls his eyes away from the loth cat to give Obi-Wan a disbelieving look. “Really?”

“Really.”

At that, Anakin jumps forward and throws his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan smiles at the reaction, but worry creeps back in when he can feel the heat still emanating from Anakin’s body.

“I’m glad you like it,” Obi-Wan says. “But I think this is enough excitement for one night. You need to get some sleep if you want that fever to go down.”

“I’m not tired.”

Obi-Wan sees the lie for what it is, but he indulges him anyway.

“Well then, why don’t you lay down, and maybe you’ll start to feel tired?”

“I don’t think I will, Master,” Anakin says, even as he starts to settle back into bed. He lets Obi-Wan pull the blankets over him this time. The stuffed loth cat is held tightly in his arms.

“Wait here then. I’ll go get you your tea.”

Anakin groans. “I don’t want it.”

“It will make you fall asleep,” Obi-Wan insists. He ignores Anakin’s protests as he ducks out of the room and finds his way back to the living room where he left the tea.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan groans to himself as he notices for the first time all the droid parts littering the floor and the coffee table. He takes a moment to straighten everything out before grabbing the mug of tea and heading back to Anakin’s room.

“Now, I know you don’t like it, but I promise it will—” Obi-Wan cuts himself off when his eyes land on the form of his Padawan. His breaths have evened out and his eyes are closed. The blankets are pulled up to his shoulders and the stuffed loth cat is nestled under his chin.

Obi-Wan stands in the doorway, smiling softly and sipping on lukewarm tea.

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 9]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens

“is this what it’s like to be normal?“

After a bit of juggling of paper containers and laughter, Corpse settles into the cushions of the couch with Cora sitting close by. They ordered Chinese food and are now sitting with their feet up on the coffee table, munching away and laughing at the comedy special on the television. That’s where they stayed for a couple hours, her head resting on his shoulder. She joked about laying on his lap again but Corpse shut the idea down quickly, stating he didn’t want to be held hostage again tonight. He didn’t fail to mention that any other night wouldn’t be a problem for him though.

That's what brought them to their current situation. Corpse is standing in his bedroom, making a slight grimace at the clothes that he has scattered on the floor. He conveniently placed his laundry basket over the vomit stain from his panic attack. The mark serves as a reminder, one he’ll have to get rid of eventually to not feel his stomach turn every time he walks into his room.

He’s rather thankful she’s looking around the room and not at the floor. Her gaze, although curious, is in no way judgy. She is simply taking it all in without wondering why it seems so barren or empty like he sees it. He likes it that way and he’s glad she doesn’t have a complaint about it either.

“Would you…” He pauses, making a face as he tries to figure out the best way to voice the question he’s been thinking about. “You can borrow something of mine to wear if you don’t want to wear that.” He vaguely motions to her outfit which seems like it would be a little uncomfortable for sleeping.

“Oh, you bought me dinner so now you want me to take off my pants? I feel like we’ve been over this already.” Cora jokes, eyes sparkling as she nudges him with her shoulder. 

He blushes a deep red, looking down as his cheeks burn, “I-I meant...”

“I’m kidding, Cujo.” she laughs, delivering a light smack to his arm that felt more like a caress than anything.

“Cujo?” He repeated the nickname questioningly, tipping his head toward her. She’s called him a lot of things but Cujo is a new one.

“Yeah. I mean, we met because of a collar, and you keep giving me puppy eyes.” She teases, reaching up to run her hands through his hair with a playful, cheeky smirk.

“I do not!” Corpse scoffs defiantly, cheeks a heavy shade of red caused by the embarrassment and wild butterflies in his stomach. Even as he denies her claims he knows she’s right: he absolutely does give her puppy eyes, be it intentionally or not. But he isn’t going to admit it, of course! 

Before he could go on with his defense, she pushes up on her tippy toes and kisses his cheek, effectively shutting him up before he even starts rambling. 

“You said you had a change of clothes?” She asks sweetly, plopping herself onto the end of his bed. He rolls his eyes fondly and turns around, digging into his dresser to retrieve a pair of plaid pajama pants. He offers them to her and, when she takes them, goes back to searching, pulling out one of his favorite shirts to pair with the pants he gave her. His fingers touch the design on the front of it, looking thoughtful. 

Should I really give my favorite shirt to her?, he wonders as he looks at the graphic embedded into the material he’s so used to feeling on his skin and seeing in the mirror. What if she leaves like everybody else. I won’t be able to look at the shirt ever again without thinking of her smiling face when she wore it. He exhales before gripping it tighter and turning, handing it to her. It’s a sign of trust he knows she isn’t able to read. It’s a sign he believes she won’t hurt him. Not intentionally, at least. He just hopes he’s right and he’ll have something good in his life to stay for once.

With the clothes in hand, she smiles brightly and heads into his bathroom to change. She doesn’t close the door, but she’s still out of sight. Her clothes are tossed through the doorway and Corpse can’t help but swallow sharply. 

Undressing. She’s undress- oh fuck that’s her bra. His face turns scarlet and he quickly whirls around, yanking off his jeans and changing into a pair of gym shorts before she could come back. He curses his libido, swearing at himself as he tries to think of something that would kill the flush of heat under his skin. 

Naked grandma, creepypastas, Jeff The Killer, Slenderman, fuck!

Finally, after quickly looking over his shoulder to make sure she isn’t in the room, he reaches up and slaps himself as if to wake himself from a deep slumber or nightmare. 

The impact startles him enough that he momentarily forgets why he had even done it. Turning around once again, he sees her wander into the room, the pajama pants rolled up to keep them from dragging and the shirt clinging to her...just so perfectly. 

“You alright?” She asks softly, head tilting curiously as she comes closer. Corpse nods and smiles softly, reaching out to take her hand. She curls her fingers with his and reaches up, her fingers grazing across the side of his face he slapped moments prior, her touch cool against this hot cheek. “You look like you got bitch slapped.” She muses, lips forming a small smile that was a dead giveaway of the fact she was trying her best not to laugh. 

“Yeah, um that’s...odd...” He croaks out, clearing his throat before turning to face his bed. “Um...l-ladies first?” He suggests, his other cheek slowly reddening to match the slapped one. 

She side-eyes him before deciding the best course of action would be to DIVE into the bed. She tumbles into the blankets and rolls onto her back, laughing softly as she sprawles into starfish formation to take over the entire bed.

“Where are you going to sleep?” She asks him, a mischievous look flashing across her face as she practically claims the bed as her territory for the future undecided amount of time. 

He almost says he’ll sleep on the couch if she doesn't want to share with him but when he realizes she’s joking, his eyes narrow into suspicious slits and he leaps in after her, flopping down at her side while a soft squeal leaves her lips. She laughs and her arms wind around his neck immediately, trapping him against her chest. He struggles a bit, managing to pull away just enough to tip his head up, cheeks pink. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by being face-first in her chest and he’s worried he might’ve. However, just then, as if sensing his thoughts and feeling the need to comfort and reassure him, she simply runs a hand through his hair, looking down at him fondly.

“Comfy?” She asks softly, thumb touching his forehead as she gently and lightly runs her nails over his scalp. He isn’t sure what the best way to answer that would be. Don’t get him wrong, he was absolutely comfortable. Does he think he should stay in that position though? Probably not. 

“Yeah...but if you’re not-”

“I can move, yeah, yeah, I know. Corpse, if I didn’t feel comfortable, trust me, you’d know.” She murmurs, cutting off his worried rambling, placing a kiss on his forehead before letting herself settle back, stroking his hair gingerly as he lays his head on her chest. She tightens her grip on him causing him to sigh contently as he listens to the rhythmic thumping of her heart against his ear. He slowly closes his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he slides his arms to wind them around her torso, curling his ankle around hers. 

Why and how is she so perfect?

How can one person completely change my life like this?

“Are you still wearing socks?” Her voice comes out of the blue, sudden and a little jarring. 

He tipped his head down, following the valley of her stomach to her legs to check. Yep, he is definitely still wearing his socks. “Uh...yeah?” He says, looking back up at her. 

“You sleep in socks?” There’s a judgmental and almost pitiful smirk on her face, eyes glittering with amusement.

“My feet get cold.”

“Get a blanket.”

“They still get cold under the blanket.”

“Get a better blanket.”

Corpse snorts softly and pulls his hands free from around her, sitting up just enough to be able to pull his socks off. Instead of tossing them away, however, he leans down and grabbed her ankle quickly. A yell of laughter leaves Cora’s lips as he struggles to put his sock on her foot, fighting with her leg like it was a restress, panicking fish. 

“Hold still!” He laughs, trying to pin it down to the mattress without hurting her by accident. “You’re gonna wear the sock! You’ll see my point of view if you just. Put. On. The. So-fuck!” He cuts himself off with a yelp when he finds himself on the floor after Cora’s leg pushed him hard enough to slide him off the bed. A low thud echoes throughout the room as he hits the ground. Before she could even ask if he was okay, he’s jumped back into the bed, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her to him. 

“Fine, no socks. But the day you start trying to get me to wear nightgowns we’ll have problems.”

“Oh, for the love of God, if I wear a nightgown please kick me out and never talk to me again.” she groans, head cocked back as she sighs dramatically.  He leans forward and kisses her softly. And so suddenly. He can’t be sure where the urge came from, he just knows he wanted to do it. He smiles softly and blinks for a moment before kissing her again when she leans into it, clearly happy with his initiative. 

“Thank you.” He whispers through another soft kiss. “Can I save my progress?” 

Cora can’t help but giggle, brushing her nose against his affectionately, “Progress saved. Thanks for using the A.S.S.”

 @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen​

[missdawnandherdusk]

Little Things

Draco X Reader

Request: @deanwswinchester79 But I thought of an idea that maybe the readers parents never write to her while she’s at Hogwarts, Draco notices and eventually gets her a simple gift so she doesn’t feel so lonely. She doesn’t react quite so well but over time it started to become a little tradition of theirs because they’ve come to like each other.

A/n: Thank you for such a wonderful request!! Sorry this took so long, I had most of it written with no idea how to end it, but I figured that out! think I’m gonna make the reader a Slytherin just for the proximity and convenience. Let me know what y’all think as always~ (Also it seems that my posts haven’t been circulating in the explore page... so more than ever, please if y’all love my work reblog it. Tumblr sucks and I’d hate to have to leave...)

Being pure bloods and Slytherin, it’s not uncommon that you and Draco are near each other a lot, even before Hogwarts.

Unlike his own parents who would give him anything at the mere mention, your parents never batted an eyelash at you

They spent their wealth on themselves and expected you to sit still and look pretty. The perfect compliant child.

Sure you had everything you needed, and asked for... but you had to bluntly ask for it... there was never anything thoughtful or decent

So, you never get letters from your parents while you’re at Hogwarts

Or gifts, or packages... you write letters and send them off, but never get a response. You don’t even know if your parents get them.

So... maybe it’s a few years before Draco notices and cares.

It’s only because he happened to be sitting next to you one morning as mail came in, a flurry of owls, letters and parcels. And you don’t even bother to look up. Your eyes are trained on your breakfast, your face stoic

“Here,” Draco shoves a covered tin of treacle tarts your way. “My parents sent me these. I don’t even like them,” he scoffs, trying to play off what he’s doing.

You eye him, in disbelief and stand abruptly. “Be grateful they send you things,” you snarl and storm out of the Hall, spending the rest of the day in your room, writing a letter you never send.

Maybe after writing the letter you never send about how you feel makes you realize you were a bit rude to Draco

So you apologize when you see him next.

It’s later that night when you two are the only third years left in the Common Room. Maybe you were a bit of a coward and waited until he was alone

He reaches into his bag and offers you the same tin. “I meant it. I really don’t like sweets,”

You can’t help but laugh as you accept his small gift.

Sitting beside him on the couch, you stare at the tin in your hands.

“You can eat them,” he teased. “They’re not poisoned.” He says it so earnestly, you laugh again.

You mumble another thanks before you stand abruptly and head back to your room, leaving Draco a bit confused. He shrugs and goes back to his potions homework.

“Mother, Draco gave me some treacle tarts today. They’re from his parents. I think he noticed that you never write back. Of course it’s been three years. But at least someone noticed. If that’s what this was...”

It’s a few days later during breakfast that you get a letter. You’re shocked because it’s the first time it’s ever happened and your owl is fluttering happily on your shoulder.

It’s not signed, and you have no idea who it’s from, but it holds kind words and encouragement. It’s such delicate and immaculate script, you’ve got no idea where to start looking for the author.

So maybe you don’t. But you keep the letter and write a response. Again, it’s never sent, but it makes you smile and not feel depressed afterwards. Which is new.

Draco would never forget the innocent smile on your face as you opened the letter he had sent anonymously. You didn’t seem to notice his stare, so entraputed in the bit of parchment.

He sent you a letter maybe a few times a months. It was the most mundane things. How he liked the weather. His worries for the next exam. How you handled yourself well in Transfiguration.

He never knew you reponded to each one. And kept those letters in a fabric box under your bed. Or how every night when you were feeling depressed you’d take them out and read them. And that they made you feel better.

You knew your secret author went to school with you, and was in close proximity but that was about all you knew. Sometimes you wondered who it was writing to you. Sometimes you were just content with having a letter to hold.

“I don’t really know who you are, but I’d like to know I think. At least to thank you for making me happy, even for a short while with your letters,”

You leave that letter on your desk, not thinking to tuck it back into its box. Which is your first mistake

Your owl, seeing the letter on your desk, delivers it, knowing who your secret author is.

Draco grips the letter so tightly that the paper almost tears. Your owl preens herself on his sill. “You know,” he accuses. “Did you tell her?” Like he expects a response from the bird.

It’s Christmas, and your mystery writer sends you a parcel this time with a note: “haven’t you figured it out?” In the parcel is a tin of treacle tarts.

You freeze before your gaze turns to Draco, who’s watching you intently.

You run through a lot of emotions. Anger, confusion, gratitude, hesitation, joy... it’s all so overwhelming that tears sting your eyes and you practically run from the Great Hall, leaning against a random hallway wall and start to cry at the absolute ridiculousness of it all

Draco Malfoy was sending you letters

Really sweet letters that were thoughtful and kind and honest and nothing like you’d ever seen from him before

The there was the tin of sweets sitting in your lap. Looking at them made you cry all over again

Draco, on the other hand is very confused and rushes after you against his better judgment.

“Look I’m sorry if—” he starts but you cut him off by laughing.

“Merlin, don’t apologize,” you sniffle, standing. “Thank you,” you throw your arms around him, and pull him close, showing your gratitude. He eventually figures out that it’s a hug and hugs you back.

“You really don’t mind?” He asked, hesitant. “Because I... I know it’s stupid. But you never get anything and I know what it like to be ignored by your parents and I just thought—”

“Draco,” you call his attention, finding it sweet that he rambles when he’s nervous. “I don’t mind in the slightest. And it’s not stupid. It’s the kindest thing anyone has done for me,”

Draco fidgets and blushes slightly, looking at the ground.

“I will admit, I’m surprised it’s you,” you mused softly, catching Dracos attention and the hurt on his face. “Only because you’re... I don’t know.” You smile and shrug. “I feel like no one knows that—this part of you,”

“And what part of me is that?” He scoffs, trying to play it off.

“The sweet caring one,” you smile. “Who doesn’t mind sharing his sweets with a girl even though she knows he’s the first to eat dessert every meal,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

Draco goes a deeper shade of red because you’ve caught him in his lie. He starts to apologize again, but you stop him

Later that night you look at all of the letters he wrote you and that you wrote back. And the night before Christmas when everyone else was asleep, you spent the entire night working the letters into a book with magic

You give it to Draco Christmas morning, and though it’s lost in the pile of gifts from his parents, you’re happy (even if your parents didn’t bother to send you anything. You had a few gifts from your friends and you were okay with that)

Draco doesn’t pay much mind to the book until later that night, when he’s alone and can go through it in private. He’s surprised to see that you answered every letter you’ve written him. And he’s sort of in awe. He never knew that they meant that much to you

He thinks of you and your smile and how you’ve poured your heart out into these letters the same way he has and he never thought anyone would open up to him like that

Slytherins had a reputation to uphold—you both knew that, so the fact that both of you had this little secret made things a bit better

You see each other the next day and he thanks you for the gift and it’s a bit awkward, but in a nice way

Draco still sends you letters but now he signs them and they get a bit ridiculous that they make you laugh

“Did you see how Snape tripped over his robes today?” “You’ll never guess what Blaise did today...” “Greg actually asked me if the sky was blue because it’s not blue at night,”

They’re so endearing and making you giggle to yourself. You always catch Draco’s eye from across the hall and he raises an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something

Your friends of course want to know who’s making you laugh with their letters and you try so hard to not let your secret slip because you don’t think Draco would want anyone to know

And you’re afraid if others do know, he’ll stop writing to you. Letting his pride and ego get the better of him.

Draco wonders if you’re embarrassed to be talking to him so he never reveals your secret either but your both a bit frustrated at the other because of this dance you’re going through

He still writes to you over the summer and they’re more diary entries than they are letters but you still love them and respond when you can your parents might get suspicious and you don’t want to lose your penpal

You totally sneak into his families box during the Quidditch World Cup and your parents didn’t notice because they never do and you have the best time with Draco, both rooting for different teams

“You just like them because of Krum,” Draco accuses.

“Do not!” You argue back. “And besides he’s a great player anyway!”

Draco grumbles “I could do better,” and you have to laugh at him and he smiles at you

He grabs your hand and you both run as the Dark Mark is sent out over the match and Draco pulls you out of the chaos to where it was safe and you wait out the attack. He holds you protectively as you shake with fear against your will

Neither of you mention it. But at night you remember the feel of his arms and he remembers your warmth as you both curl around pillows wishing it was the other

Fourth year means the Durmstang students are rooming with the Slytherins and you get to share some of your classes with Krum and you might just explode with awe

Draco is jealous and hell hath no fury

Now Draco starts to send you ridiculous little gifts and notes almost weekly

Your friends (and most of the school) are now interested in this secret admirer of yours and you huff and you’re more annoyed at Draco than anything because he was being well, ridiculous

You grab Draco one day and confront him because he just sent you a bouquet of sunflowers

“What the hell?” You demand. “You said you liked sunflowers in Herbology,” Draco shrugged. You growl and storm away.

Now he’s sending you notes in class when you’re with Victor who doesn’t even sit next to you

At that point the secret is out on who your secret admirer is and now Victor won’t even talk to you because of Draco’s behavior.

You’re livid to say the least.

You stop talking to Draco altogether and become indifferent. You almost tell him to stop sending you things because you don’t want them, but you don’t.

It’s not that you don’t want the gifts and the kind gestures you just know it’s coming from the wrong place and it doesn’t sit right with you.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco demands one day.

“Wrong with me!?” You snap back. “What is wrong with you!? Seriously Draco! I’m not some shiny toy you can show off!! I’m not something you can claim either! So stop trying!”

“Who said that I was—”

You give him a sharp dangerous look and he shuts up.

You storm away again, tears in your eyes because it’s not how you wanted things to go.

It felt like you were walking away from your best friend and you knew you couldn’t fix it. And maybe that’s what it was like.

You almost run into Krum and fall down, but he catches you. Concern grows when he sees you crying. His concern for you just makes you cry more as your run back to your dorm room, not caring about the whispers around you as you lock your door and sob.

There’s a knock on your door and you have a good idea of who it is, but you don’t really want to talk to him right now

And Draco knows that. Sure, it took you to confront him about what he was doing, but you were right, you weren’t some toy to fight over

He sat against the other side of the door, mimicking your curled up position

“...I’m sorry,” You hear through the door. “You’re right. I... you’re not... I’m sorry...” 

When you finally have the courage to open the door, he’s gone

You close the door again and flop on your bed, screaming into a pillow

You may or may not fall asleep there... 

in the morning there’s a letter sitting on your window sill

Knowing who it’s from, you curl up in your covers with the letter and open it

Draco had spent about two hours thinking of how to make things right again, to prove how sorry he was... and so he poured out his entire heart to you in a letter

it was messy, scratched out, sappy, and heart felt, and apologetic and vulnerable and a beautiful mess that you couldn’t help but read again, and again, and again until you let a few tears slip out

You quickly get dressed for the day and rush into the Great Hall, seeing Draco sulking at the breakfast table, until he sees you, then his eyes go wide with panic and fear

It takes everything in you to remain composed and not run down the line of tables, but you manage

He stands to meet you and you smile, grabbing his robe and pulling him close, pressing your lips to his

“But... I... and you...” Draco fumbles, pulling away. 

“I might not want to be owned,” You grin, pulling out his letter, “But I’ll belong to this Draco any day,” 

“Deal,” He grins, and cups your face, kissing you again

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masterlist

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more like this:

muggleborn!slytherin

patronus cliche

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@coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @savingdraco  @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise@katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @hxneybgb @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-johnston @jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog @thiccheerioss @lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry  @dragonsandbread @the-queen-of-hell-things @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora @live-like-luna @justathoughtfulangel @coconutdawn @skteaiy@naughtygranger @dragonsandbread @abundantxadorations @moony-artnstuff  @and-then-a-girl-with-luv @1-800-luvsick @pandas-rice-field @in-slytherin-we-trust @emmaa-t @introvertedrae @infinity1o1 @echpr @dekulover @marshmallowtraver @cereuselle @lonely-skywalker @sleepysnapesnake @hoeforthefictional @coldlilheart @helen-paris @rosie-starlit-sky @vulture-withafile @hogstupefy @eveft @iraniq @groovyfluxie @cool-weirdo-wannabee-author @rosegold-thorns @criminaly-supernatural @ghostofdolans @mxl-foyrecs @ginger-haired-queen @bex4whovian @kellyrose193 @unlikelygalaxygiver @marvel-trash-was-taken @one-edgy-bitch @supersouthy @garbagejay @rejectedlonelyasianchild @lucymxwell@coldlilheart  @elia-the-bibliophile @biggalaxydreamland @fuckbuckyyy @hopem1218 @youareinllve @tyrusparker @3rdofkingdomtrees @whamitsqueen @i-mmunity @zero-nightshade @graym01 @fandomtrash88 @snakey-drakey @ceeellewrites @thatguppienamedbae @pinkleopardss @angel-blogging @xhoney-bee-x @jovialthings @samanthahaigwood @minigigglybabi @clumsy-writing-rdb @lahoete @yourenotafailureoverall @m-winchester-67 @shiningstar-byulxx @clumsy-writing-rdb @dracosathenaeum @dracofeltonmalfoy @harryslouis @iilovemusic12us @itsbebeyyy @dumspirospero-1 @kaye-lantern @stardewsnail @anerroroccurrrrred @franbow29 @big-galaxy-chaos @itsbebeyyy @gryffindors-weasley @ornella0910 @ultrabuzzlightyear @phantomface1983 @emmalee12​ @kuyrukludenizkizi​

[lovestruckay]

Request: “Can you do fluffy Hibana x reader Hc? 👉👈”

Pairing: Hibana x Reader

A/N: I got so excited when I got this request because I just read her character profile the other day and found out one of her hobbies is video games! I had a lot of ideas for fluffy Hibana so it’s a bit long, haha.

When you’re both in public, Hibana’s presence is dominating and she demands respect from everyone around her. She is Company 5’s Captain first and she refuses to show anything that could be seen as a weakness to be exploited by her enemies.

That being said, she does enjoy public displays of affection - especially when it comes to staking her claim on you and making sure everyone knows you are a very happy couple. You will never see her show her soft side in public though.

When it’s just you two behind closed doors, however, it’s a completely different story. No one would ever believe you but Hibana is a complete softie. She’s still her flirty, dominating self but she is also excitable, affectionate, and cute.

Once you two have your privacy, she is in your embrace, demanding your attention like a needy kitten. She wants to feel your arms around her, she wants to hear your voice telling her everything about your day, and she wants to talk to you about her recent scientific endeavors.

She absolutely melts under your praise, turning into a smiling mess as she showers you with affection. She doesn’t respect any of this gravel but she loves and respects you and praise coming from you always made her happy.

“Tell me more about how amazing I am~” she’ll tease as she presses a dozen kisses to your face.

Hibana is a scientist but, when it’s just you two, she is such a huge nerd about it. She will go on tangents about her latest experiments, geeking out about the technical details and gushing about how fascinating her results are. She loves when you listen to her intently, even if you don’t understand half of what she’s saying, and she especially loves when you ask her questions.

She likes being able to show off to you how much of a genius she is. If you praise her during these moments, complimenting her on her ingenuity and her research, her smile shines like the sun.

“Your Muse is an absolute genius, who else but me could make such incredible discoveries?”

Hibana loves to play video games with you. It’s her biggest hobby after her scientific exploits and she enjoys being able to share that time with you.

Her absolute favorite game is Animal Crossing. Her island is incredible and, unsurprisingly, princess themed. She’s always sending you expensive gifts in game and giving you all her duplicate recipes. 

Her second favorite game is Minecraft and you have your own server together that you started from scratch. You worked together to build an entire sprawling city, dotted with monuments dedicated to each other.

You both tried to play video games like first person shooters and fighting games but she is way too competitive and matches may have, embarrassingly enough, lead to real life arguments and grudges.

Hibana once pouted so hard she gave you the silent treatment for an entire night after you kicked her ass in Smash.

You both decided it was for the best to either play co-op games or games where you could pass the controller.

Some of the times you’ve laughed the hardest together was when you created the weirdest looking characters you could in games like Skyrim and Dragon Age.

Hibana will always have a feast of snacks and drinks for you both on game night. You’ll both happily munch on anmitsu, cookies shaped like flowers, and other sweets while gaming together. If you don’t have a sweet tooth like she does, she’ll have plenty of your favorite snacks just for you.

Speaking of food, Hibana will make you the most amazing meals you’ve ever eaten. She enjoys cooking for you and will set aside the time to learn new recipes and make you lunches. She even goes as far as to make them pretty, cutting the food into hearts and making cute faces. She goes all out for dinners, especially on special occasions, and you are spoiled rotten.

When it’s time to curl up for the night, Hibana is a huge cuddler. Even if it was sweltering hot, she needs to be touching you somehow to sleep. She feels safest and happiest wrapped up in your arms and the sound of your soft breathing is her favorite lullaby.

She will also frequently steal all of the blankets in her sleep and leave you with the fitted sheet. When you call her out on it, she’ll say that she’s a princess so what did you expect.

You’ll never tell her but she sleep talks and it is absolutely adorable. She talks about science mostly, rambling about whatever problem she went to sleep thinking about, but she also brags about you.

Sometimes she will cackle like she is possessed in the middle of the night, scaring you half to death, before going back to a perfectly peaceful slumber. (Sol knows what she’s dreaming about.)

Hibana sometimes gets nightmares, something she doesn’t like to talk about. With the easier ones, where you wake up to her trembling and twitching, you’ll kiss her temple and whisper to her that you love her and she’s safe. She’ll rouse just enough to escape the nightmare and return to pleasant dreams before you follow.

During the bad ones, you’ll have to shake her to wake her up. After startling awake, she’ll silently curl up in your embrace and you’ll rub your hand down her back until she falls back asleep against you. She tells you one day it’s a recurring nightmare about her covenant burning and that’s all she’ll say about it for a long time.

When you’ve been together for some time and she trusts you completely, she’ll finally open up to you about what happened.

When Hibana knows she wants to spend the rest of her life with you, she’ll take you to the cemetery to meet all of her sisters. You’ll help her decorate the graves to a ridiculously lavish extent and, when you bring little gifts for all of her sisters, she cries in front of you for the first time.

Iris is the only family that she has left and, when you two make friends, she is grateful that the people she loves get along. Iris is also an endless source of adorable stories and an afternoon spent with her is an evening spent teasing your furiously blushing lover.

Hibana may have a complicated relationship with her faith but she is grateful to whatever god might be listening that you came into her life.