#this might be the shift that kills me 😅

[fernisfat]

i left my lunch at home 😭😭😭

[slasherstories123]

Hello! It’s me again😅 and I loved how you did my request! Keep up the good work:) also I’d like to make another one (u don’t have to do it) of the same characters (Jason, Michael, pennywise and art) on how they’d react to their kid dressing up as them for Halloween:) maybe even a little toy weapon too! Again you don’t have to do this:)

Jason, Michael, Pennywise, and Art the clown’s reactions to x kid! Reader dressing up as them

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @mrs-heelshire @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @emychan @charliedawn @sleepypersonblog @slasherscrybaby @anim3l0v3r @kawaistrawberry21 @l0sercat

Jason voorhees

This man is confused, Jason has big clothes so compared to you, his clothes are dragging you everywhere. When he looked for his mask he saw you with it along with his machete.

He immediately got worried and took away his machete, waving his finger in front of you to tell you no.

He took back his mask too, putting it back on his face. The idea of it being a mini version if him was adorable, but you aren't taking part in the killings he do.

“Aw come on dad! I wanna look like you!”

You could see him take a deep breath, helping his clothes fit you so you won't fall or trip.

He’d find a safer thing for you to hold instead of a machete and a spare mask he had. By the time he was done, he took a look at you, you didn't exactly look like him, but he was proud at the thought of you being a mini version of him.

Jason will teach you how to set up some of his traps after constant begging, but that, he won't let you take part in anything else he does. If trespassers walk by with candy he’s stealing it for you

Michael Myers

All you’ll get is a head tilt out of him.

But behind the mask, he’s Intrigued by your wants to dress like him.

He’s a proud dad. But he’ll take away the sharp knife you have, simply putting it over your head so you can’t reach. He’ll look down at you struggling to take it back

“Dad come on give it back!”

He shook his head and out the knife up in a area you can’t reach. Michael is all in for sharp objects or anything that’ll cause destruction but you shouldn’t do it

The closest thing he gave you was a wooden spoon. It’s not a strong weapon but it can kinda cause harm. “Really dad?”

Michael nodded his head at you, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder, then giving you a bag, it was Halloween after all, might as well get you some candy

Pennywise

Pennywise finds it cool. But also tends to forget that you aren’t like him, you can’t and will never eat people, you’re not a cannibal.

He finds it adorable though, you trying to open your mouth wide like how he does, but it dosen’t work since he can unhinge his jaw in order for the deadlights to show

He gives you lots of balloons, and you’ll laugh every-time he gets into character on catching someone, you may be a child but your fear dosen’t affect him somehow. Instead, your fear makes him protective.

Pennywise one day saw you put on make up so you can look like him, if your make up starts to chip or starts melting he’d help you put it back on, he isn’t good at it but he’s trying. He wants you to scare kids.

Pennwyise will Watch from afar when you get candy, sure he can shape shift into a regular human but he wants to test you, and by the time you come back, he picks you up in a hug while laughing

“Good job mini me!”

Art the clown

The happiest man on earth.

When he first saw you, he couldn’t stop jumping up and down in excitement. Art can be ruthless, but he’ll NEVER let you touch his trash bag.

The trash bag is a no no, each time you try to touch it he’ll lightly hit your hand while waving his finger in your face

But he’ll find fake ones or will find more friendlier weapons to put in your own trash bag.

He did your make up himself. He’s good at it too. Sometimes he’s rough with it since he dosen’t know his own strength

He’ll have a proud look once you put the trash hab behind your back and follow him through the neighborhood for candy.

If any kids make fun of you you’ll scare them, Art is proud of you for that. By the time halloween ends your bag is full of candy, you and art take the time to sort through the candies that you’ll like and don’t like, the I es he don’t like, he’ll keep.

[gorogues]

Probably more interesting second question: which Rogue do you think writers most often misunderstand/write poorly? Conversely, which one has been written well the most consistently?

It is an interesting question, and it's one that's challenging to answer because of my own biases. I personally think Roscoe is terribly misunderstood (and not in a "he didn't do anything wrong" way because he did tons of things wrong, but in a "they don't really get what drives him and don't care to figure it out" so he behaves randomly way) and is thus handled poorly by most writers, but it's also very possible I'm reading stuff into canon that other writers don't see or agree with. I spend more time thinking about him than most people 😅

Mick is written extremely inconsistently, so he's probably one of the most overtly mischaracterized Rogues. He regularly flips between a good man with psychological problems and an angry or sullen psycho who burns things for shits and giggles, and one of the more frustrating parts of Countdown (in a long list) is when he complained about James and Hartley flip flopping between good guys and bad 🙄

Owen was only a Rogue for a very short time, but the most frustrating thing about him to me is that he too is incredibly inconsistent. Leaving aside the post-Flashpoint weirdness for a second (because that's an even bigger kettle of fish), he regularly flipped between smart and competent to a total idiot, and sometimes he tried to live up to his dad's legacy and sometimes he wanted to prove he was nothing like him. It seems like the writers didn't have a cohesive take on his character, and just did whatever they felt like with him. That was his undoing in the end, I think, and probably why he got killed off; DC had wanted a fresh start with a new Captain Boomerang, but he wasn't being handled well so they went back to the established Boomerang.

The blurring of Axel and James into one vague Trickster is another troublesome one, and also pretty frustrating. It shouldn't be hard to tell them apart and make them distinct, and yet a lot of writers struggle with it.

For most consistently, I want to say Len since 2000, but with the huge caveat that even he gets messed up, and it's obvious when he does because he appears most often. Even so, it's clear that Johns' revamp of him has stood out prominently in DC's eyes, so I think the vast majority of writers are trying to write him that way even if they sometimes fail. And the way they usually fail is depicting his intelligence and cunning, ie, he suddenly becomes a thoughtless dope.

Mark is also generally consistent, but he's never been given a lot of attention so it might be easy to keep a handle him. Same with Marco (the weirdness in his current arc is probably due to outside influence). My biggest quibble with Mark has also been his intelligence and competence levels, which tend to shift with the writer.

This is one of those subjects which is very much a Your Mileage May Vary, so you could ask ten people about it and probably get ten very different answers. But this is the way I see it.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Still With You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Nine

Summary: Filling in Grey on everything that happened came with a rude awakening but you calm yourself down like you always do...even if it's to your detriment Pairing : Luna (reader) x Jungkook and Jimin, f2l love triangle Word Count: 5.1k~ Warnings: Explicit language and a heated discussion that talks about death and not grieving their lost love ones (idk how else to put it) a/n: Barely edited per usual 😅 Start from the beginning

Jimin goes home after I insist on making him breakfast, using it as a sort of apology for last night. He assures me he didn't mind while giving me a tentative hug goodbye and leaves before he can see my reaction. 

I smile as I watch him scurry off and catch a glimpse of a rosy blush on his cheeks. That boy is way too easy to read and it's so endearing but I just hope he'll learn soon that not everyone has the purest of intentions at heart. 

I finally take the time to look through my notifications after cleaning up the mess left over from breakfast and out of habit I search for a sign of life from Jungkook but come up empty handed. 

I did ask him for space but I didn't realize how much I was going to miss the simplest things like a good morning text or a funny video left in my DMs.

I push past those feelings and check the notifications I do have and see a few from Grey and a message from Jin letting me know that he got home safe as well as a good morning text to check in on how I'm doing. 

I reply, being completely honest with him and let him know  that I'm feeling pretty down today, but leave out the events that happened after he dropped me off. I'll tell him eventually but I don't want to burden him with it or have him accidentally tell Jungkook. 

We both need time to ourselves and bringing him in after I told him I need space is gonna be way too confusing for the both of us.

My uncle texts me right after I close my messages with Jin asking me if I can come in to cover someone's shift and I groan at the thought of it. It's late at night though and Grey's gonna be there so I reluctantly agree. I need to tell her everything anyways so might as well get paid to do it. 

Jimin texts me later to check on me and asks if I wanted him to come over tonight. I let him know that I'm gonna be working late so I'll be fine but he jumps at the opportunity of accompanying me to work and he doesn't take no for an answer. Laughing at his antics I let him know what time I'm leaving and he says he'll wait for me outside. 

I decide to take the rest of the day to clean up my apartment and get some laundry done. 

Going through my room I grab my dirty clothes basket and take it over to my washer and dryer and as I'm placing the basket down on the floor next to them I hear my phone ringing in my room. I answer it but before I can even say 'Hello' I'm already being cut off.

"What crawled up Jungkook's ass and died?" classic Grey, I think to myself.

"Yeah about that..." I start but trail off.

"Luna, what did you do?" she asks in a serious tone clearly sensing that something big happened between us.

"What time do you start work tonight?" I question hoping she has time to come over beforehand since there's no way she's waiting for me to tell her tonight.

"I'm only working four hours tonight so I start at the same time you do" she says filling me in on the rest of the information my uncle left out.

"Can you come over?"

"Shit it's that bad huh?" she says before continuing with a quick "Yeah I'll be there in 15" but knowing her she'll be here in 30.

I thank her and she hangs up the phone, quickly getting ready to come over since I know the suspense is killing her. 

I dig through the basket and throw my laundry in but notice that the shirt at the bottom is Jungkook's. I start thinking about the past few days we spent together and I can't help but worry about him, wanting to know how he's feeling. 

Before I crack and try to reach out to him I throw the shirt in and close the lid in an effort to close off those thoughts as well. After starting the washer I send Jimin a quick text letting him know that I'll be going to work with Grey so he won't need to come pick me up. He offers to walk with the both of us but I assure him we'll be fine. 

We end the conversation there and he tells me to stay safe and lets me know he'll stop by the store later to give me pepper spray. I decline but he said he already bought it and it's nonrefundable so I laugh and tell him to come around 10.

I'm pulled out of the conversation by the sound of Grey punching in the code and swinging my front door open. "What did you do?" she asks immediately, throwing away the possibility of me distracting her with small talk. 

"Why do you assume I'm the one who did something?" I say as a weak defense. "Because you're always the one who did something" she says giving me a knowing look and I can't help but nod my head in agreement knowing that she's right for the most part. 

"Okay but this time it wasn't like that" I say continuing to defend myself. "This is gonna take a while" she says walking over to the couch and plopping down onto her spot. "So, what happened?" she says getting tired of the momentary silence. "You know how Jungkook and I got together the other night?" she nods her head encouraging me to continue. "Well he kinda sorta told me he's in love with me".

Her jaw drops momentarily before jumping in "He told you? Why didn't he tell me he was gonna tell you? After all of these years of keeping his secret and he doesn't even tell me! That's fucked up man" she says with a look of utter betrayal. 

"Wait, he told you?" I ask, completely shocked that even she had known. "Girl he didn't even have to tell me. He's been in love with you since before I met you guys. But yes, he told me like sophomore year of high school or something like that" she admits. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" I question feeling slightly betrayed. "Do you tell me everything Jungkook has ever told you?" she questions crossing her arms over her chest. "Well...no" I say in defeat. "Exactly, you guys have your secrets and him and I have ours. To be fair most of ours were pretty much about you but I guess since it's not a secret anymore we don't really have any" she says with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Did you really not know?" she continues. "No! I had no clue! I mean, I always knew that we were close but I always told myself that he didn't like me like that" I admit. "Well then you're more clueless than I thought you were" she says while picking up her phone to check the time. I let out a slight groan and cross my arms over my chest, already haven beat myself up about all of this. 

"Girl, that man has been following you around like a lovesick puppy ever since you guys were kids" I grow silent having a few memories flash through my mind of when he really did show that he liked me and as much as I hate to say it there have been a lot of them. 

"So, what happened after that?" she prods further. "Well I sorta freaked out on him and had a panic attack" I say rubbing my neck. "You did?" she cringes gaining secondhand embarrassment and I nod my head, mortified that I have to live through it and talk about it again. I see almost a look of pity in her eyes but it's gone in a flash and is replaced with curiosity, silently waiting for me to continue.

"He got worried and told me that I didn't have to say anything, so we just stargazed for the rest of the night. We went back to his place after we were done and nothing really happened. He said something to me when he thought I was sleeping though. Something like 'I know you're hiding something from me and I wish you would let your guard down'" I relay and he nods her head, thinking about what he could possibly mean but also knowing that she's been feeling the same way. 

"I hate that he can read me like that. I can never hide anything from him but I guess that just shows how well he knows me. Same with you" I finish off, poking her bicep. "Hey, it's not my fault you forced me to be friends with you" she says rubbing her arm. "Oh come on it's not that bad" I tease. 

"Yeah yeah whatever, but what I wanna know is why Jungkook has gone all moody on me. I texted him because I wanted to see what happened with the whole stargazing thing and all he responded with was 'I don't know ask y/n' and I was like 'Shit you used her government name? What the fuck did she do?' and he left me on read". "He said that?" I say feeling somewhat downtrodden. "Yeah..." she says trailing off.

I take a deep breath and decide to tell her the whole story about what happened yesterday...

"So yeah we're not really on speaking terms at the moment" I end after filling her in on everything. 

"Shit, that's heavy" she says under he breath, "I know. I've been over thinking this whole thing but this is Jungkook we're talking about. I don't want to lose him if things go wrong" I say feeling myself getting choked up at the thought. 

"Luna you're not gonna lose him, that boy loves you way too much to let you go" she says while rubbing my back trying to reassure me. "You know everyone keeps telling me that but none of us really knows what Jungkook is gonna do except for Jungkook! It's seems like it was pretty easy for him to shut me out right away so what's stopping him from just disappearing? Grey I'm fucking terrified, and I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing" I say, reaching my breaking point.

"Oh yeah, and then on top of all of that I guess I have a fucking stalker now" I say letting out a laugh dripping in sarcasm. Grey looks at me clearly confused and all I can do is nod towards the envelope on the table. 

She picks it up and gives me a questioning glance before she empties out the contents on the table. The frown on her face keeps on getting deeper and deeper with every picture she sees. 

"Luna, what the fuck?" is all she says waiting for me to explain. "Yesterday when I came back home from the whole fiasco with Jungkook, this was waiting for me on my doorstep. No one was in the hall, and no one was on the street outside" I explain plainly. "Do you think one of your neighbors did it?" she questions picking up some of the pictures that she's in. 

"Maybe? I don't really know though, I haven't had a chance to really process it, let alone think about who it could be" I pause for a second when she gets distracted with a picture of Jungkook and I kissing. 

"I asked Jimin to come over last night" I say nervously, not knowing how she'll respond. "Jimin? You mean that kid that came into the store the other day? Don't tell me you guys-" "No! No, nothing like that" I say cutting her off. 

"When I opened the envelope up for the first time I started to freak out you know, the whole nine yards. I meant to call Jungkook because he's the one who, well you know, the one who usually helps me get through it but when I went and clicked on my most recent texts I guess Jimin was close enough to Jungkook that I accidentally called him" she nod along, understanding the situation and waits for me to continue.

"I told him I called him on accident but I was already too far gone that he could tell something was wrong. He offered to come over, and I said yes. Thinking about it now, it might've not been the best decision" I admit and she cringes, a clear sign that she agrees with me.

"He knows about Jungkook now... more than I would've liked him to" I say picking up a picture of Jungkook and I from when he came over the other night. "What are you gonna do?" she asks trying to figure out where my head's at. "What can I do? My best friend is in love with me, and tells me at the same time a new guy conveniently walks into my life. Now I'm confused because I already started to like Jimin, but Jungkook and I have so much history and that's the problem. I love Jungkook, I've loved him for years but I pushed those romantic feelings to the side because I thought it was hopeless to even try. Everything is just so confusing and I keep on telling myself that and everyone that talks to me knows it's my excuse as well. I feel like the world is caving in on me and I don't know why. I have two guys who have a crush on me, big deal" I say sarcastically, letting out a shaky breath. 

"It's so stupid and I don't know why I'm taking things so seriously" I let out, tired of holding it all in. "I wish everything would just stop so I could catch my fucking breath" I finish ending my rant for the moment. "I think I know why everything is hitting you harder than usual" Grey says trying to bring me back down from the fit I've worked myself into. I look at her expectantly waiting for her to continue but I wasn't prepared for what she said next.

"The anniversary just passed didn't it?" hearing it now makes me feel stupid, seeing as she found the cause for all of this pent up anxiety so quickly. 

"I guess I forgot..." I lie but she won't let me gloss over it. "No for fucks sake Luna you didn't! I know you like to go around and pretend like everything is fine but you can't just forget about what happened to them. Keeping all of these things to yourself isn't going to magically make it all go away. Your parents died Luna, don't you think they at least deserve to be acknowledged?" she finishes the lecture she gives me every year and I never know how to respond. 

"When was the last time you went to their grave?" she asks in a softer tone. I shake my head and wipe away the tears that are threatening to fall "I don't know" I say getting choked up. "I know you would like to think that you've moved past that part of your life and that you've healed but in all the years I've know you, you really haven't given yourself time to do anything about it" she says taking a hold of one of my hands. 

"I love you, you're my best friend and I want to be there for you but there's only so much I can do. At the end of the day you're the only one that can choose to heal".I know she's right, fuck she is so right but I can't bring myself to fall apart like that. If I do...well then I don't know what'll be left of me. 

I've dealt with this pain bubbling under the surface for so long, giving fake smiles and crying behind closed doors, but just enough to be able to force that fake smile again. The only ones who have ever really brought out that true smile have been Jungkook and Grey. Without them, I don't know who I would be, or if I would even be here anymore. 

"I can't do it" I let out just loud enough for her to hear, tears free falling. "Why can't-" "Because I don't know how!" I say raising my voice at her. "There's too much, too fucking much that I just... I don't know how to let it all out. I feel like if I do I'll shatter into a million pieces and I'm afraid that the next time I look in the mirror, I won't recognize myself. I've been like this for so long that I don't think I could put myself back together again once I fall apart" I choke out and stop to catch my breath.

"Don't you want to let all of that go?" she tries but I can't accept that. "That's all I have left!" I yell through a sob. "That's all I have left of them, the pain, the trauma, that's all I fucking have left of them. Call me sick but holding it all in feels like I'm holding onto the broken pieces that they left behind. If I let that go... then there's nothing left" I finish trying to wipe off all the tears that were streaming down my face, only letting go for just a second like I always do. 

"I have no memories from before the accident, everything is gone. All the times we spent together and the love that they gave me, it's all gone. It's been suppressed for so long that sometimes I don't even remember what they looked like" I say looking up at the ceiling and blinking back the rest of the tears before they have a chance to fall again. "I only have one picture of them here and I put it in a drawer because I can't bring myself to look at them without falling apart again".

Grey takes a moment to think and I take that chance and get up to grab us both a bottle of water from the fridge, slowing my breathing and trying to calm myself down. 

"I didn't know..." she trails off, not knowing where she should take this. "No one does, not even Jungkook" I say curtly not wanting to elaborate further but she presses anyway hoping I'll let her in a little more. 

"But didn't he meet you right after it happened? You guys didn't talk about it when you were kids?" she asks but I shake my head. "Jungkook wasn't like that when we were little. He knew I was hurting but he never pressed me to talk about it. I would open up to him sometimes but he knew my limits and he didn't want to push past them. Once we got older he talked to me about therapy a few times but I always brushed it off saying I was fine and that I was just feeling a little sad that day and we would drop the conversation" I explain. 

"He seems pretty pushy with you though, or at least from what I've seen" she says tilting her head, confused at the explanation I've given. "He makes me open up and talk about other things sometimes but when it comes to my parents or my family in general he tends to leave it alone. I'm pretty sure he knows I need professional help to unpack all of that shit" I chuckle dryly. 

"But you still don't want to go? I could go with you if you want" she offers but I shake my head, "Jungkook has said the same thing to me many, many times and I also told him no so can we just drop it, please?" I ask, taking a drink of water to break up the conversation and luckily she complies, taking a drink of her's as well.

We sit there in silence for a bit before I decide to break the built up tension thats been created between us. "Well," I say patting my thighs before standing up and clearing my throat, "why don't we get out of here? There's this new place that Jimin took me to the other night and I wanna show you!" I say quickly changing the subject. 

She shakes her head at me and rolls her eyes "Yeah, but you're paying" she says, standing up and grabbing her bag to go. "Fine, but give me like ten minutes to get ready and then we'll go" I say and rush into my room to get dressed while she lets out a big sigh of annoyance and slouches back down onto the couch. 

Going into the bathroom to brush my teeth I notice how bloodshot my eyes are from all the crying so I quickly open the cabinet behind the mirror and search for my eye drops, hoping they will soothe the burning sensation that had been a natural consequence of showing more emotion than I had planned to. 

I blink a few times after I apply them, letting the drops settle in my eyes and wipe away the excess before brushing my teeth and washing my face hopefully getting rid of the red tint thats still splayed on my face and dry off before getting dressed for the day.

Stepping outside the building was a lot more jarring than I had anticipated, feeling the violent urge to look over my shoulder every few seconds but I do my best to shake off those feeling and focus on getting to the subway station. I try to keep a constant conversation going with Grey about her new kitten Smokey and how he's been driving her nuts to distract me from it all and for now it seems to be working. 

"If I would've known how difficult it would be to take care of a kitten I would've gotten a goldfish instead" she huffs as we get off at our stop but when we start to walk towards the exit I see a figure lurking in the shadows as we pass by and my body goes stiff in response. I'm only brought back once Grey pulls on my arm to keep going, trying to get us out of the busy stairwell. 

I follow her wordlessly until we get to the top of the steps and it's then when she takes in my body language. "You okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost" she says with a crooked smile. "I thought I saw someone watching us so I got a bit spooked but it was probably just my imagination" I say physically shaking off those feelings. "Come on, the cafe is just around the corner" I say now switching rolls, with me now pulling her along instead.

It's pretty easy to spot the place as it's the only one that's doused in a violet hue and I get even more giddy the closer we get. 

"This place has pretty much become once of my favorite places in the city" I say proudly even though I've only been once. "Bora?" Grey says unamused, "As in Purple?" she asks and I nod my head while dragging her in, secretly hoping she'll love the place too. "Very creative" she says still criticizing the name of the establishment but I don't take it to heart. She's never the type to get excited about cute or themed anything so I'm not phased by her reaction. 

Once we make it past the entryway and are greeted with the ever glowing neon lights is when her interest starts to peak. "I'm surprised it's not one of those girly fairy like cafes you've taken me to in the past" she says as she roams around on her own, checking out the interior and I smile knowing that deep down inside she's loving it. 

"I'll go get us some drinks, are you hungry?" I ask and she nods and continues to make her way over to the records displayed in the far corner that I failed to notice before. Seeing as music has been a big interest of hers since before we had met I'm not surprised to already see her flipping through their collection and messing around with the record player.

Making my way over to the counter I place our order and head back to pick out a table close to where she seems to be still tinkering with the poor thing. 

"You know it's probably more for show than anything else" I say teasingly and she sits down with a silent huff confirming my suspicions. "You could always ask them if they ever thought about getting a real one" I suggest but she waves off the idea. 

"Too much of a bother" she says and shrugs her shoulders "They've got a pretty good sound system in here anyways so I'm sure they don't plan on it. The records they have are cool though" she says while letting her eyes wander around the rest of the place. 

"Well then they must have good taste if even you like them" I say before someone joins our conversation making me jump. "I guess that would be me" a charming guy with a purple apron says as he walks over with our order. "You like Deftones?" Grey asks giving him a once over."Is that so hard to believe?" he says with a sideways smile but before Grey has a chance to open her mouth to utter something that I'm sure would come off as harsh I jump in changing the subject. 

"Oh um, we didn't order those" I says glancing down at the pair of lilac macarons "It's on the house" he says giving me a smile while placing it on the table along with the rest of our order. "It's new to the menu so let me know what you think" he says giving us a shallow bow and tucking his tray under his arm before he walks back over to the counter.

"He was cute" I say to which she responds with narrowing her eyes at me, clearly meaning that she thinks the same. 

"What, no insults? You usually say 'Ew he looks like a piece of gum that's been stuck to the bottom of a garbage man's shoe' or 'He looks like how the sewer smells' or the dozens of other insults you've thrown out whenever I've pointed out a guy to you" I continue with a teasing smile grabbing one of the macarons left in between us. 

"This one isn't too bad though" she mumbles under her breath. "I'm sorry what was that? I couldn't hear you" I say continuing to embarrass her even more. "Shut up" she says copying me and throws the whole pastry in her mouth, her eyes widening when she takes in the flavor and lets out a groan. 

"Shit these are good!" she says, clearly sad there isn't another one. "I could go order more if you'd like?" I say making moves to stand up but she grabs my hand and pulls me back down into my seat. "It's fine we've got other stuff here already. By the way, what the fuck did you order me?" she says glancing at the beverage that was placed in front of her.

Yours is called 'The Stars' and it's a lavender lemonade with a splash of butterfly pea tea and popping lychee boba. Mine is called 'Rain' and its a black cherry iced tea" I say taking a sip of my more conservative dark purple drink compared to her bright colorful one, both in stark contrast to our personalities. 

"Why'd you have to get me the girly one?" she grumbles taking a sip of the purple concoction, surprised at how much she's enjoying yet another one of the menu items. "Because I knew that you would like it...even if you didn't want to admit it" I say with a sideways smile before taking a glance down at my phone seeing a message from Jin.

'What's got you feeling so blue?'  he asks, hoping not to sound too pushy.

'Just Jungkook stuff. I still haven't made up my mind but I'm worried about him, he's never blown up on me like that so I feel like something else might be wrong' I send quickly before placing my phone face down and cutting the croissant I got us in half, smiling at the huckleberry filling cross section. 

"They really wont let up on this purple theme huh?" Grey scoffs with a shake of her head taking half of it for herself. "I guess not" I say laughing at her clear disgust with the mystery substance but takes a bite anyways trusting my judgement. 

"Well I guess it wasn't a huge chore coming here seeing as everything here tastes alright" she says, admitting that I have good taste this time around. 

"Wow high praise? Looks like someone woke up on the right side of the bed today" I say never letting up on the teasing. She's always teasing me mercilessly at work so I don't feel bad poking fun at her today. Gotta take the opportunities when I can. 

"I take it back you have shit taste" she says trying to fight back. "Nope what's done is done, can't back peddle now" I say  playing coy and she finally accepts defeat, slouching back into her seat, her preferred state of being in almost all situations.

After finishing up Grey heads towards the exit while I place our dishes in the designated bin. 

"Everything was amazing and those macarons were to die for!" I say fulfilling his request for our impressions. "I'm glad you liked them! Here take a few more for the road" he says bagging up two more. 

"Oh I couldn't possibly take those! You already gave us the other ones for free" I say shaking my head no. "Well I've already boxed them up so they can't go back in the case. It would be a shame to waste them" he says and now I am on the receiving end of his coy antics. 

"Well, thank you" I say as he places the small box in the palm of my hand but I quickly slip a few dollars into the tip jar before leaving with a shy smile. "Come back again soon...both of you" he says clearly telling me he's curious about Grey without telling me. "Don't worry we will" I say and wave him off before running out the door to catch up with Grey. 

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[davnittbraes]

Teleportation and Blue Whiskey

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

Word Count: 1500

Warnings, etc.: descriptions of a panic attack, claustrophobia, annoying coworkers, brief description of desire for self-amputation due to shitty footwear, mention of cotton-poly blend clothing

Reader-insert physical descriptors: nothing in this chapter but hair long enough to tangle fingers in/comb fingers through in future chapters, just in case that’s not your jam

Notes: this is for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Challenge, I got Stuck in an Elevator with Dieter Bravo (something I wish I could actually say happened to me irl 😅) It was only supposed to be a couple thousand words for a fun writing challenge but here I am, splitting it into multiple parts, because as with everything I write it’s taken on a life of its own and has become impossible to control. Everyone hang on, I have no idea where this ride will end. Let’s go 💃🥳

There’s a headache forming at the back of your head - no, right between your eyes - nope, it’s both.

A band of pain slowly throbbing to life, wrapping your skull in the weight of ten consecutive hours of socializing with people you’d just met two days ago.

Fucking. Perfect.

This conference is going to kill you.

It’s the first time you’ve attended, and you’re definitely not coming back next year. Despite what looked like a robust presentation itinerary, the whole vibe seems to be less of an educational event and more of an excuse to spread gossip, get intoxicated to the point of obliteration, and rack up charges on company credit cards.

Who knew clinical pharmacists were such party animals.

It’s just not your scene. You’d rather be back in the hospital, consulting with other medical practitioners, patients, generally helping people, instead of shooting tequila at 3am in the VIP section of some poorly lit club you’ve never heard of.

Sighing, you shift your feet as you wait for the elevator. This pant suit feels stuffy, the cotton-poly blend scratching your skin. The shoes that look so good with your outfit are pinching your pinky toes in a way that makes you want to cut them off and be done with it. If it wasn’t for those damn pinky toes, you’d be taking the stairs - much more preferable anyway, elevators made you uncomfortable.

You’ve never liked them, always hated the inability to just get out whenever you wanted to, the need to rely on something out of your control to give you a chance to escape. And there was always the threat, the possibility that everything would fail, that the elevator would fall, plummet down and you’d be shattered into a dozen pieces.

But your feet might just rebel and call a mutiny if you try to force them up five stories.

So, elevator death-trap it is.

The hotel lobby is starting to fill up with people heading out for a night on the town, including some of your colleagues. They haven’t looked your way yet, but if they see you, they’ll definitely try to rope you into whatever shenanigans they’ve got planned for tonight.

Shit.

You push the elevator call button again, and once more for good measure.

Come on, come on, please -

The ding of the elevator pulls your attention, your aching feet moving even before the doors start sliding open, and you duck inside and out of view of the lobby.

Muzak and a soft golden light fills the small space. It’s welcome, quiet and soothing.

Leaning against the wall, you take a deep breath and let it out, eyes half closing with weariness as the doors start to slide shut. Almost there, a few floors and a dozen steps and then you can flop face forward on the double mattress your company had paid for.

The elevator stutters to a halt, doors sliding open again.

A groan almost slips out and you have to bite it back.

Fucking. Perfect.

The last thing you want right now is social interaction.

A man shuffles onto the elevator.

Your exhausted mind notes tiny details about him - the way his dark green crocs catch on the elevator door track, the frayed hem of his navy and red checked pajama pants, the bulky dark grey hoodie with the hood pulled low over his eyes so all you catch is a glimpse of plush lips twisted into a downturn. He’s carrying a couple reusable bags, well-used and wrinkled, whatever is in them clinking softly together.

He moves to the far corner and slumps against the wall, keeping his head down so you can’t even see his face anymore.

A curl of apprehension mingles with relief in the pit of your stomach.

Okay, well, you didn’t want someone who would talk your ear off on your way to your floor but you’re also not particular on sharing an elevator ride with someone obviously attempting to hide their features.

Whatever. It’s less than a minute to the floor.

The elevator doors slide shut. And nothing happens.

What -

Shit.

The elevator’s broken, you’re stuck in here -

No no no -

Your chest tightens instantly, every muscle in your body drawing up in panic.

This is it, exactly what you’ve been dreading, this elevator has stopped, and there is no escape, and -

Oh.

You didn’t push the button for your floor.

Embarrassment prickles along your skin and you lean forward, punch the number six with your thumb, probably a little too forcefully.

The man in the corner doesn’t move, but social convention prompts you to ask anyway. “What floor?”

“Hmm?” His voice is low, smooth, slightly detached as if he’s lost in his own thoughts. “Oh, yeah. I -“

He shifts the bags in his hands, digs into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a hotel room key card. Fingers fumbling, he steps toward the elevator buttons, hesitating just a moment before he holds the card up to the reader at the top of the keypad while pressing the button for the penthouse. The button illuminates and he quickly steps back into the corner, shoving the card back in his pocket.

His free hand tugs his hood lower over his face. “Hate those things, radio frequency waves or whatever. What’s wrong with old-fashioned keys?”

The last word clips off hard, as if he just realized he was speaking and regretted it.

Confusion blooms, and you keep your gaze forward, your expression blank.

Who is this man?

Dressed like he had just rolled out of bed, huddling in the corner of the elevator, trying not to be seen while rambling about radio frequency waves on his way to the penthouse suite?

Mentally shaking yourself, you focus on watching the numbers flash on the floor indicator above the elevator door.

Doesn’t matter who this weirdo is. Just get back to your room and try to forget about this entire day.

The steady, rhythmic white glow of the numbers is comforting, in some way. A reliable beat, marking the path to the solitude you’ve been craving all day.

2.

3.

4.

The elevator shudders to a stop.

Silence.

You wait.

The door doesn’t budge. Nothing moves.

Above your head, the lights flicker, then steady. Still.

The silence is too heavy, too much, it’s not right.

It’s actually happened, now.

The elevator has stalled, and you’re stuck in it.

Panic, hot and sharp, wells up in the back of your throat, and it takes effort to swallow it down.

Breathe. Deep breaths.

It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.

These things happen all the time.

Think it through. Use that technique from therapy - work through the next steps instead of focusing on the panic threatening to overwhelm you.

The hotel will have someone on staff to fix it - they must, a five star hotel this size? For sure they do. They have to.

They have to.

It won’t be long, maybe a bit longer if the - what are they called? - elevator maintenance person, whatever, is on a break.

But it’s nowhere near a meal time, the Whatever Person is probably not on a full break, maybe just a fifteen or something.

Yeah, okay. So once they get done their break they’ll -

“Are you freaking out? Because you look like you’re freaking out.”

The question whips through your anxiety, yanks you out of your thoughts and you sway a little, dizziness making the elevator tip as it comes back into view.

Trapped trapped you’re never getting out

“Whoa hey you - hold on -“

A hand grasps your shoulder, presses your back against the wall of the elevator.

The air is thin, it’s hard to fill your lungs and you can’t -

breathe -

“Breathe -“

Muffled voice, deep, speaking quickly, syllables skimming the surface swells of panic, pulsing in your mind with the same rhythm as your heartbeat.

It’s too fast, too loud, can’t breathe -

The world slants suddenly, your feet stumble to adjust. Heart pounding, hard, it hurts -

It’s happening, the elevator is dropping -

Too fast too loud -

It’s falling -

No you’re falling -

Crashing -

Landing on something solid but yielding -

Warm -

Your fingers grip, squeeze, hold tight. Time blinks, once, twice.

Panic freezes.

Hands. You feel hands on your body.

Large hands, soothing, gentle.

One on your back, resting between your shoulderblades, warmth seeping through your clothing and into constricted lungs, loosening tension. The ache there lessens, lungs filling.

The other hand cups the back of your head, thumb stroking small circles over your scalp. A tiny, almost insignificant motion, and it pulls your focus immediately.

Again and again, soft and soothing circles.

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

The white-heat of panic subsides, slowly pulling off of your senses and your thoughts run an inner monologue, a mantra, grounding you back into your own body.

In. Out. Good, just like that. How are your elbows so sharp? Ow.

Wait. It’s not an inner monologue, it’s -

The man. In the elevator with you.

It’s his words drawing you out of your panic, his hands on your body.

Fresh panic washes over you, your eyes flying open to see -

The stranger’s gaze, watching you closely, a rich, deep brown that makes your pulse skip.

Tousled brown curls falling over a brow creased with concern.

Full lips, drawn down at the corners, soft and plush and only inches from yours, parting slightly, and that voice, so beautifully comforting -

“Oh thank fuck you’re not dead.”

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Id sell my dog for bound by duty p2 with a happy ending. U had me crying (a good thing obvs) 😭💖💖

A/N: Alright, alright, I'll give you a happy ending just this once. And no pets need to be sold for this one, although I wouldn't mind sharing custody.

As I was reading it, I noticed docs wrote 'kissing' Tamlin instead of 'killing' him, and that would have made everything so...awkward 😭. Let's just say the story would have taken a very different turn 😅!

Warnings: slight angst?, mentions of physical abuse and emotional distress.

WC: 1.2 K.

You can read part 1 here. Fictober Challenge

Cassian paced the room, his wings shifting with impatience and frustration. Months had passed since your last visit. Though Feyre assured him you were safe each time he asked, he sensed something was wrong. The image of your bruised arm that day was etched in his mind, haunting him. He felt helpless, unable to do anything- nothing you’d allow.

Rumors about unrest in the Spring Court had been rising, and after Cassina pleaded with Feyre, Azriel was sent to investigate.

When Azriel returned with a message that something was happening in the Spring Court, Cassian couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to see you, to make sure you were alright. Insisting he go under the guise of diplomacy, he persuaded Rhys to let him go.

Arriving at the Spring Court, Cassina scanned the area, hoping you would come to greet him, but you were nowhere in sight. As he settled into his room, a pang of worry settled deep in his chest. Why hadn’t you come? Did you even know he was there? And most importantly, were you alright? His thoughts raced, only breaking when a soft knock sounded on the door, pulling him from his trance.

“Come in,” he called, his tone a rough and firm.

As the door opened, he thought for a moment he saw an angel. You looked ethereal, wearing a soft light pink, floral nightgown and robe, your hair down, one side covering your chest.

Though you always looked beautiful to him, the closer you came, the more fatigue he saw on your face. The color was drained from your face, dark circles under your eyes. It was like you hadn’t slept in days. Standing before him, he could see how the life had been drained from you.

“Cassian,” you greeted, a warm smile forming on your face. He forced himself to smile back, but it hurt him to see you like this.

“I looked for you this morning. I couldn’t find you. I missed you, Y/n,” he murmured softly, gently taking hold of your hands.

“I missed you too.” You looked up at him, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. He closed his eyes, inhaling your scent, enjoying how your skin felt against his, savoring the moment. But then you pulled back and his eyes searched yours, looking for something, anything you might reveal. 

“Why are you here, Cassian?” You tried to keep your voice light, but you knew this diplomatic excuse was just a cover- he had never been a courtier.

“I came for you. I was worried about you.” His voice was soft, but there was a sadness that lingered.

“I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come,” you sighed, not meeting his gaze.

“No, you’re not.” His grip on your hands tightened slightly as you tried to pull away, sensing your deflection, the way you were running away from him just like you did last time.

Even beneath your robe, the fading bruises on your arm were visible, and the sight ignited something in him- a fierce protectiveness he’d never felt before.

“Enough,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face, trying to see your expression more clearly. “Come with me, Y/n. Leave him.”

This time you pulled back, and he let your hands go. You shook your head. “I can’t, Cassian. I have dut-”

“You have duties, yes, yes. You owe him your life. I’ve heard it all before. But after everything he’s done, you can’t believe you still owe him anything?” His voice grew firmer, louder, but you could still feel the love in it. “Come away with me. Please. I beg you.”

“Cas- I…he-” You faltered, unable to find the words. Both of you knew the excuses were as empty as they sounded.

“I love you, Y/n. And I don’t care about peace or anything else but you right now. He hurt you again, and this time I won’t just stand by and watch him do it. I swear I’m this close to losing control and killing him for it,” he admitted, his nostrils flaring, chest heaving with intensity.

You stepped closer to him again, placing a calming hand on his chest and it seemed to ground him. “Cassian…”

As his breath steadied, he realized what he’d said, but he didn’t regret any of it. He took your hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing your palm. “Please, come with me to Velaris. To a place where you can be free, where you’ll have friends and choices that are yours alone. A place where you will be loved…where I can be your home.”

In that moment, you felt the weight of years with Tamlin pulling at you, the violent outbursts and control. Cassian was right- you had endured him for far too long and you didn’t owe him anything anymore. But you couldn’t help it. You were too kind and although Tamlin had been abusive, you felt like leaving would mean abandoning him to his own loneliness, and the thought brought a pang of guilt. But this wasn’t your responsibility, not anymore. It was time for you to let him go. You nodded, a silent answer.

Cassian let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his relief unmistakable. 

You returned to your room to pack while Cassian left behind a letter Azriel had prepared for him. The letter was meant to be left if he couldn’t keep up the diplomacy act and decided to flee with you. Azriel knew his brother’s heart all too well and anticipated Cassian’s need to protect you, so he’d crafted the letter as though Cassian himself had written it. Hopefully, it would offer Tamlin some insight into why Cassian had to go back so abruptly and keep the peace between the courts.

“Are you ready?” Cassian asked as you joined him in the garden.

You nodded again, offering a genuine smile. “Then hold on tight,” he said, smirking as he wrapped his arms around you and took to the sky.

Back at the House of Wind, you felt a weight lift as you looked out over the city, feeling free for the first time. Cassian stood beside you, his hand resting on your waist. As you leaned into him, he whispered, “You deserve peace, Y/n. You deserve to be loved. And if you’ll let me, I’d be honored to be the one to love you. I’ll protect you for as long as I shall live.”

In that moment, you realized that with him, you’d found a place where you could truly belong. You looked up at him and spoke in a low voice, “And you deserve someone who’ll love you back. I’m glad I met you, Cassian. I feel so lucky to have you by my side.”

After a moment of sincerity, a mischievous smirk spread across his face. He leaned to whisper in your ear, “Now, do you want to get real lucky, or just stand here all night?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile you couldn’t hide tugging at your lips as you gently slapped his chest. “You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but that still doesn’t answer my question.” He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Fine, lead the way, Cas.”

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#26: We Should Go To Washington (S5E09)

This moment - Powerful. Pivotal. Romantic. I’ve said before that I believe Rick and Michonne more fully fell in love with each other by the end of season 4. And to me, how they interact with each other throughout season 5 just further confirmed my theory, especially in this stunning episode 'What Happened And What's Going On.' And part of what's going on is Rick and Michonne falling for each other even more as they make a big game-changing decision rooted in the love and trust they've developed. I love that this is where Rick shows he would truly go the distance for Michonne...

(Sidenote: Now this scene ranking might be my most controversially-placed one because I know this is a very beloved classic Richonne scene that would understandably make a lot of ppl's Top 10s and even Top 5s. It’s a super significant moment between Rick and Michonne and I love it, I promise. Richonne's journey is just that abundant with top-10 worthy moments so I had to make some sacrifices on my list because I adore every second of every moment they’re on screen.😅)

So I already just love the way Rick and Michonne are color-coordinated in their brown outfits. So much of season 5 really established how R&M are a pair and each other's match.

And in this ep, Rick touches her, I believe, for the first time since she told him never to touch her again in s3., showing their growth and the strengthening of those magnets.

Something I appreciate about the Richonne 5B scenes that occur before they arrive at ASZ is that they really did an effective job of confirming the depth of their bond. During this period, we consistently see just how much Rick and Michonne's attraction to each other is more than skin-deep because they've built a genuine love and trust with each other.

They cement their partnership in so many ways during this time of searching for a home, and it's important to see this depicted before they enter ASZ because it lets you know that while there will be situations that could potentially cause a divide between them at Alexandria, it's 5B scenes like this Washington one that tell you Rick and Michonne's bond was too strong, too battle-tested, and too important to them for anything in ASZ to break it.

It’s also very clear throughout this season 5 mid-season premiere how much Michonne’s well-being is on Rick’s radar and really matters to him, and it becomes extra clear in this #26 scene here. 

Michonne is making her case for why this place could maybe still work as a home, only to find that the community clearly was brutally attacked as severed body parts lay scattered around. Michonne is quietly disappointed as she walks and observes, and Rick’s attention immediately shifts to her as he follows behind her. It’s one of the clearest cases of their damn-near literal magnetic connection. 🧲

She doesn’t leave his sight. Even when Glenn says, "it doesn’t matter," Rick stays staring at Michonne. I love that their “you're okay, I'm okay” interconnectedness is so visible. Michonne isn’t okay, and that so clearly doesn’t sit well with Rick, so she’s top of mind for him in this scene.

Glenn starts speaking, and Rick peels himself away from looking at Michonne to hear Glenn share a very bleak perspective on how it wouldn’t matter who killed Dawn. Michonne turns around and pitches that they go to Washington. At the end of this season, a very special scene will have Rick admitting the way Michonne can influence his decisions, and this moment in 5.09 is an example of that. 

Michonne turns to Rick and tells him they're close, and it's 100 miles away - and one thing I love about this point in their relationship is that she and Rick have established enough trust with each other that Michonne can be vulnerable enough to really show some raw emotion here and speak her mind. 

Rick listens as Michonne questions what if there are people there and what if it’s a chance to be safe. “It’s a possibility. It’s a chance” This is the season of Michonne really wanting tf to find a home and I know so much of that would be rooted in the fact that she was one of the few who knows what it’s like to extensively wander out in the woods and go a bit mad. She doesn’t want that for her and her new family.

Michonne gets more emotional but still with such poise as she suggests going to Washington is better than just being out there and just making it since making it looks like all those bodies sprawled on the ground. I love that she’s pouring her heart out to him. And what a great man that Rick is so ready to not take this lightly and to really hear her.

And we get another one of those long lingering looks from Rick as he stares right at her, listening. The arresting effect she always has on him is gold, and I appreciate that he lets her words seep in. Especially when Michonne asks, “Don’t you want one more day with with a chance?” 

Danai again slays the vulnerable delivery of that line and it’s also deep for Michonne to pose this question hoping Rick also wants to live and not just survive. This is important for her to know too because her last man had given up on trying to have one more day with a chance and so it’s great she gets this confirmation that Rick is different and far more aligned with her.

(Also watching s1 back, in the finale, Dr. Jenner asks what they want, and Rick says, “A chance.” which just further indicates how he and Michonne are cut from the same cloth) 

Then I love the romantic way this next part plays out cuz the walkers draw near, Rick says we should go, and Glenn and Michonne think he means we should leave the area. So Michonne turns away thinking her words fell on deaf ears, but then Rick reveals no I heard you and I will go where you lead, when he repeats her words and says, "It’s 100 miles away...We should go to Washington."

Hearing this gets both Glenn and Michonne to stop in their tracks and turn to look at Rick  Cuz this isn’t a choice Rick would make this quickly for just anyone. And Michonne’s look of surprise is so touching. I was just looking at this moment thinking - that’s right girl, he’d do anything for you.😊

I’ve always felt like in this scene Glenn is an adorable third wheel to the Richonne bubble because Rick is completely facing and staring at Michonne solely when he says this. It just makes it clear that he is declaring this because of her. Like of course he wants to secure a home for his whole family, but in this moment what's especially evident is Rick wants to give a home to Michonne.

So Rick makes this big decision for the group fully based on what Michonne thinks is best and once again it really was giving romantic when he looked right at her and said, "We should go to Washington."

And then Michonne's subtle smile...that’s an “I love this man” reaction, y’all. Better yet, she's looking at Rick like...

I appreciate how Rick and Michonne’s love for each other makes them do things differently, because while in the past it was said by Lori that Rick would never just go somewhere on a hunch, here he’s showing that he would go somewhere and bring all of tf with him if Michonne’s instincts say it’s a good move.

I love that here Rick can’t help but be so focused and in tune with her and Michonne can’t help but look at him with so much love. Again she gets confirmation Rick is different from her past and cut from the same cloth as her. The way Rick looks at her and looks away, I really feel like it’s a brief moment of him knowing that he so swiftly agreed to this for and because of her because he loves her. Whipped in the best healthiest way.

It's also great watching scenes like these back and knowing Rick is looking at the woman who he will go onto happily make his wife, and Michonne is looking at the man she will fully embrace as her husband. 🥰

All of Rick and Michonne's s5 scenes suggest that they had fallen for each other and were becoming more and more aware of how special and influential they were in each other's lives. And this moment was a beautiful illustration of what Richonne means to each other and what they’ll do for each other. Scenes like these - weighty, quiet, but full of love, just solidify that this is a beautiful love story for the ages. 😌

[blueraineshadows]

Hey I have a Garreth fic idea if youre down for it?

So I was thinking about Garreth being absolutely infatuated with MC, and it drives him mad when she keeps being whisked away to defeat poachers and dark wizards.

Then she gets severely hurt and taken to hospital, where Garreth had a sudden outburst of frustration when she's in the hospital bed and he storms off.

After MC gets better she decides to confront Garreth where he spills out his feelings about loving her and being afraid of seeing her badly hurt (or dead if one of the raids goes wrong).

MC also has strong feelings for him and she admits it too, then they make out hard and then things escalate from there if you know what I mean 😏

I hope the idea is good enough as I've never made a fic request before 😅

I love a Garreth request! ❤️

Have some Weasley Wednesday content!

Garreth Weasley x F!MC - fluff, injury, angst, smut NSFW 🔞

He just couldn't help it. He just had to shuffle a little closer and peer over MC's shoulder as she stirred her cauldron. Her potion was looking fairly decent he noticed, the colour almost perfect. He dared to lean a little closer, the scent of her perfume teasing his nose. "Not bad, MC," he said.

She gave him a little sideways look, her lips curving up into that cute little smirk she did. His heart did a little flip. Why was she so damn cute? It was killing him.

"I guess all the pointers you've been giving me are paying off," she said.

He beamed at her praise, shifting to lean casually against the work table in an effort to look cool. Unfortunately, his elbow caught against a pot of dittany leaves and it tumbled over, the leaves scattering everywhere. "Oh, shit," he muttered. He quickly scrambled to gather up said pot and leaves, a blush colouring his cheeks.

MC bit back a giggle. "What are you doing?" She hissed under her breath, turning to keep an eye out for Sharp. Garreth didn't need any more detentions.

Garreth was scooping the leaves frantically into the pot. "It's fine, no problem," he muttered. He put the pot back where it had been, dusting off his hands and throwing her a sheepish grin. "See? As if it never happened."

Her smile did things to him, fluttering, chaotic things, but he was finding it to be quite addictive. If she was nearby, he had to have an excuse to be next to her. If he got to accidently brush up against her, or, even better, if she put her hand on him, (which she had done, three times now!), then it was enough to make his day.

After following her with his eyes for two years, he might finally pluck up the courage to do something about it. Maybe.

When class was over, Natty leant close to speak into his ear as they packed up their things. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

"Who?" He asked.

Natty gave him a look. "You couldn't be more obvious. She isn't seeing anyone, you know. Just ask!"

Garreth chewed his bottom lip as he watched MC walk out of class. If only it was that easy.

....*....

"Psst!"

Garreth looked up from his book, glancing around the courtyard. He had found a quiet spot to study, catching up on some reading ready for mock exams that were fast approaching. He frowned. Who had made that noise?

"Psst, Garreth!"

He looked up again, a smile brightening his face as he saw MC beckoning him over. She was peering around a column, clearly not wanting to be seen. Curious, he closed his book and headed over.

As soon as he was close, her hand whipped out and clutched his sleeve, she yanked him behind the column and led him towards a shadowed corner. "Ooop, what's this then?" He asked, a little surprised.

She double checked nobody was looking before pulling out a wooden box from her enchanted pocket. "I have a gift for you, but it's er...how shall I put this...hot property? Black Market stuff?"

He looked at the box, his eyes shooting back to hers at her choice of words. "You mean...stolen?"

She cringed. "Shhh!" She pulled him further into the corner. "Not so loud. But, yes...I acquired them, so to speak. I raided an Ashwinder camp, and when I was having a rummage through their supplies I saw this, and I immediately thought of you."

He frowned. "Another Ashwinder camp? Merlin, MC, I thought you were done with all that these days."

Her smile was rueful. "I stumbled across it," she said. She gave a little shrug. "What can I say? I'm addicted to the adrenaline I guess."

"You could get seriously hurt," he grumbled. The very thought made his stomach twist up into knots.

"I'm fine," she insisted. She gestured to herself as proof and smiled. "Perfectly well."

She was most certainly perfect. And too good at winning him over. His gaze dropped to the box. "So, what is it?"

"Open it," she said, excitedly.

It was a fully stocked potion kit, and some of the ingredients were very rare. He gasped as he inspected some of the vials. "These are amazing!"

She was practically bouncing with joy. "I knew you would love it."

He smiled at her, all forgiven. She smiled back. Gods, he could just fucking kiss her right now!

But he didn't. He just gave her a hug instead. And when her arms squeezed him right back, he knew he would be replaying this moment over and over before he went to sleep tonight.

....*....

Garreth had been lounging back on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, reading up about some of the ways his new ingredients could be used, when he heard some 6th year students come in, gossiping.

"Did you see all the blood?" One of them said.

"Yeah, she didn't look good," the other replied. "I've seen her in Crossed Wands, she is bloody good at duelling, whatever this was it must have been bad."

"It was Sallow's face that got me," the first one said. "I always thought he was scared of nothing, but he looked scared as he carried her in."

Garreth sat up, an unsettling feeling washing over him. "What's that you said? Why was Sallow looking scared?"

They both paused and gave each other a look. The boy gave Garreth a grave face. "We just saw him carrying MC to the hospital wing. She was cut up pretty bad."

"Not moving either," the other one said.

Garreth shot up from the sofa, panic gripping him. "When was this?"

"Just now."

Garreth ran.

....*....

Sebastian was sitting just inside the entrance of the hospital wing, a cut on his forehead and lashes on his arms. Garreth gaped at him. "What happened?"

"Ashwinders," Sebastian sighed. His face was tight with worry and he looked towards where curtains had been drawn around a bed. "I only just managed to get MC out of there. It was bad."

Garreth sighed in fear and annoyance. "Why do you two do this shit?"

Sebastian scowled. "Don't start, Weasley. I've just had Ominis chewing my ear off, I don't need you at it as well."

Garreth was struggling to get a full breath in his lungs. "How bad is she?"

Sebastian paled. He stared at Garreth. "I know you like her..." He trailed off. He swallowed and looked back towards MC. "Just...prepare yourself. She got hit with a pretty powerful Diffindo."

It was a while before Garreth was even allowed to see MC. Sebastian sat with him for a while, but Nurse Blainey sent him away with strict orders to get some sleep. Sebastian promised to be back first thing.

Finally, Garreth was allowed to see her. As he peered around the curtains, Garreth winced, his eyes burning with tears at the sight of her asleep in that bed. Her skin was awfully pale, and the wounds...gods! How was she still alive?

He sat on the chair beside her bed and took her hand into his. He had always imagined what it would be like to hold her hand, he never expected the first time to be like this. It hurt. It made him angry. He could have lost her.

Who was he kidding? He didn't even have the nuts to ask her to be his. And look at her, running around fighting dark wizards and facing death on the regular. He didnt even deserve her.

But he would still sit at her bedside. There was nowhere else he would rather be.

....*....

It took a week for the worst of the wounds to close, and she was weak. But she still had a smile for him when Garreth visited, bringing treats from Honeydukes, and telling her about the exciting new ideas he had for the box of ingredients she had given him.

"You will have them all used up in no time," she said. She smiled. "I'm glad you like them."

"Even if I do use them all up, you won't go out looking for more trouble to find more, will you?" Garreth felt his stomach clench at the thought of her out there again, risking her life.

"I don't look for trouble, Garreth," she frowned. "But, I also won't stand by and watch others cause pain and trouble either. Innocent people get hurt!"

"Like you, you mean?" Garreth bit out. "And why is that your problem? You should be here, studying, preparing for your exams, not running around catching dark wizards."

She stared at him. "If I want to be an Auror then it's all experience," she said. "I have a unique gift, Garreth. Of course I am going to use it for the greater good."

He knew he was being a git, but his fear was clawing up his throat. He couldn't get the image of those wounds out of his mind. They were almost faded now, but he would always remember the red, angry slices on her beautiful skin.

"You almost died! If Sebastian hadn't been there, you would have!"

"But he was there," she said. She reached for his hand. "I'm alright. I will be out of here in no time."

"And then you will be running off to get yourself killed properly, I suppose."

She pulled her hand back. "I'm not going to let this stop me from doing what is right," she said, firmly.

"Then I guess you'd better hope that Sebastian will always be there to catch you when you fall," he said, bitterly. He shunted the chair back and stood, his hands clenched into fists. He had to get out of here.

"Garreth..." She sounded hurt, sad.

He paused at the curtains edge and turned to look back at her. She was utterly beautiful, pale and tired, but so perfect. He thought he might cry. "I just...I just can't lose you. I'm sorry."

He rushed from the hospital wing, regretting those last words out of his lips and the rawness with which he had spoken. The truth of them rung in his ears and he blinked back tears.

....*....

He couldn't face going back to the hospital wing to see her. He felt like an idiot, and he was pretty sure he had annoyed her. None of it seemed fair, and he had been in a foul mood for the last two days. The only time he bit back his frustration was when he asked Sebastian how she was doing.

Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. "She will be out tomorrow, mate," he said. "You two need to talk. Not only am I sick of seeing your miserable mug, but I am getting rather tired of listening to her worrying over you."

Garreth frowned. "Worrying over me?"

Sebastian sighed. "You haven't been to see her, and she's noticed."

....*....

"So, this is where you've been hiding."

Garreth looked up from his notes, the parchments spread out on the bench in front of him covered in scribbled notes, some crossed out, some underlined. Beside him, his potion box was open and there were vials scattered around the cauldron that was simmering away nicely.

Working on his passion was always a good distraction, and he had begged to use the classroom after hours. Lately, he had been rather well behaved in class, and his assignments had been receiving good grades. Somehow, he was in Sharp's good books.

The reason for the need of distraction had just walked into the room. He had set himself up around the corner, hidden from the door for maximum peace and quiet. But, MC had found him. He put down his quill and slid his hands into his pockets. "Hi," he said.

She moved closer, her wounds healed, her face looking much healthier than the last time he had seen her. His mouth couldn't help but curve up a little. He had missed her.

"What are you working on?" She leant onto the table, picking up a parchment to see his notes. She grinned. "How can you even read these? Your scribbles are barely legible."

"I know what it says, and this way nobody can steal my ideas," he said. He tapped his temple and gave her a wink.

Her cheeks turned a little pink and she slid the parchment back towards him. She cleared her throat and peered into the cauldron. "So, tell me, what genuis are you brewing up this time?"

He pinched his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, eyeing her carefully. Was she going to be cross with him? He'd had to do something. The fear and worry was driving him crazy.

She met his gaze, curious. "Garreth, what is it?"

"It's..." He sighed, cringing a little. "It's an advanced healing potion. I figured that if you really were that determined to go off fighting every bad wizard that dares step foot in your vicinity, then I would rather you went prepared."

He rubbed his hand through his hair, feeling like a first class prick. It sounded like he didn't believe in her capabilities, but he did.

She stared at him, lips parted in surprise. "Why would you do all of this for me? I thought you were mad at me."

"I wasn't exactly mad at you," he said.

"Then what was it?" She asked.

He couldn't meet her eyes. She would see the truth. He was a rubbish poker player.

He startled as she grabbed his hand. His eyes flew to hers. "Tell me the truth," she begged. "I know you sat by my bedside, and you told me you couldn't lose me. Now you're trying to make a potion for me, to stop me getting hurt. What I want to know is why you can't even look at me? Why are you avoiding me? Please, Garreth...I can't lose you either!"

He sucked in a breath. For the life of him, he couldn't tear his gaze from hers now. She was close enough that he could see the little flecks of colour in her eyes, each eyelash curling up to frame those beautiful eyes that he could drown in. He was up to his neck in it with her, it was quite possible he would drown.

"I think I love you," he admitted. "You're beautiful, and you drive me fucking nuts. You're brave, you're brilliant, you make me smile...fuck, I think about you all the time."

The words just kept spilling from his lips, and her eyes were getting wider and wider, but now that he had started he just couldn't stop.

"When you run off to fight Merlin know's what, I'm scared shitless that you won't come back. I couldn't bear it if I never saw you again. Seeing you lying in that hospital bed damn near floored me, MC. I wasn't angry...I was scared."

He put a hand to his mouth. He had to stop this spouting off, she was going to run right back out of this room at any moment, shouting to whomever cared to listen that Weasley had lost his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. Exposed was too mild a word for how he felt right then. He felt his cheeks growing hot and he wanted to disappear through the floor.

"Garreth," she whispered. He felt the gentle tug of her fingers on his shirt sleeve. "Garreth, please, look at me..."

His breath shook. What an idiot! But he dropped his hand and braced himself to turn back to her. He gaped. She was crying!

"Er...shit...what?" He was confused, his hands flapped uselessly as he thought about touching her, offering her some kind of comfort, but then thought maybe it was best not to. "You're upset...oh, shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say all that. Ignore me, I'm an idiot. Fuck, me and my big mouth..."

He grunted as she pressed her hand against his mouth, then she huffed a laugh through her tears and now he was really fucking confused. What was happening?!

"If you would just shut that big mouth of yours for a minute, then I just might be able to get a word in!"

He didn't dare move. His lips were tingling under the touch of her fingers. "Sorry," he mumbled. The word muffled against her restraint.

She smiled, her eyes all shiny with tears. He hated that he had made her cry. But, that thought soon vanished as she shifted the fingers that were pressed to his mouth. She slid them slowly along to trace the line of his jaw. He swallowed so hard it was almost a gulp.

Then, bloody hell, she was leaning in, her face getting ever closer. His heart quickened to a gallop. He might have even made a strange, whining noise, he wasn't entirely sure. Her lips touched his and every fibre of his being was screaming. She's kissing me!

He stared as her eyes fluttered closed, honestly her cuteness just went up another notch, and her lips were so soft. Not one, or two, but three soft kisses before she stopped to look up at him.

"Wow," he croaked. Nice one, Weasley, that will charm her.

She giggled. And then she booped him on the nose. "You're so cute," she said.

Cute? He didn't want her to think he was cute! He wanted her to be breathless, flushed and swooning in his arms.

He kissed her, his lips sealing firmly over hers, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head. He tilted her slightly, leaning forward to dip her backwards a little. Her hands gripped at the front of his shirt, and a small sound came from the back of her throat. Yes, this was much better.

Gods, she felt so good in his arms. His other hand moved to her waist, the delicious curve of it a delight under his gentle caress. She arched against him, her softness a tantalising tease, and he felt the blood rush immediately to his pants.

He kissed at her bottom lip, his tongue swirling for a taste, and when she parted her lips, he didn't hesitate, months of yearning driving him to kiss her deeper. He moaned into her mouth, his hand moving to pull her hips in closer. His blood thrummed through his veins, a haze of desire, thick and heady, was wrapping around him, driven by her little sounds and gasping breaths.

He felt her hands tugging at his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband, and then she was sliding warm palms over his stomach and back. His cock twitched eagerly, the feel of her touch making him sigh, making him want her all the more fiercely.

He needed to taste more, hungry and desperate to bury himself against her softness, drown in her scent, his lips grazed against her throat, the skin there delicate and sweet. Animalistic need made him bite, his teeth gentle but possessive, his mouth drawing her flesh upwards into a heady suck. Her moan almost made him come undone.

As natural as breathing, their hands explored, he was tugging at her tie, loosening the buttons on her shirt, his mouth devouring the skin over her collar bones. Her fingers were in his hair, tugging sharply, raising goosebumps along his flesh.

It wasn't enough. He would always want more. But, he should stop, before this got too far, before he began to play out the naughty fantasy of taking her over the potions table. His face warmed at the thought.

Reluctantly, he pulled back a little, staring down at her flushed face. It was deeply satisfying to see the damp plumpness of her lips, the darkened look in her dazed eyes. Red blemishes marred her pretty neck, and the rumpled state of her clothing was incredibly sexy. He almost groaned with the effort of restraint.

"Why did you stop?" She panted.

He smiled. "Not exactly the most private of spots to ravish you."

Her smirk was utter sin. "Exciting though, right?"

His eyes flared at her naughtiness. "MC!"

Her giggle was very naughty, her hand smoothing over his stomach before tugging at his waistband. She looked up at him through her lashes. "I want you," she whispered.

Garreth sucked in a breath, the ache for her sharpening into a pain. He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands moulding her hips and around to cup her arse. Fuck, she was so soft and round and he wanted to bury himself in it.

"Do you want me?" The breathless moan in her words had him panting.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned.

She arched, grinding against him, slow, teasing rocks of her hips. Garreth could hardly breathe, staring at the movement she made, transfixed. His cock was straining in his pants, dripping and desperate.

Fuck the fact they were in a classroom, he couldn't quite care when she was writhing up against him like this. His hand had a life of its own, sliding up her skirt to reveal the tops of those high socks she wore, the silky skin of her bare thigh was utter bliss, and then he had a handful of peachy soft arse, his fingers hunting greedily under the fabric of her knickers. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, through gritted teeth.

He moulded the shape of her, his fingers tracing the sexy curve of her cheeks, the tips grazing dangerously close to her heat. She moaned, writhing against him. "Touch me," she begged.

He slid a hand a little lower, squeezing her cheek, before dipping his fingers below. She was hot and wet and he groaned as his fingers slid against the slick. She panted desperately, her finger nails beginning to bite into his skin.

He sucked at her neck, nibbled her ear. "More?" He asked. She nodded, whimpering.

He slid a hand around to tug open her knickers at the front, sliding a tentative finger in that way. He felt her thighs part eagerly, his breaths hot against her ear as he slowly circled the pad of his finger over her slippery folds. Fuck, she felt good.

He went for it, finding the hot throb of her opening and slid his finger inwards, her walls immediately clenching around him. "Fucking hell," he groaned.

"Yes," she panted. Her hips rocked. "Garreth..."

Now, he would happily admit that he was inexperienced, a few cheeky snogs did not prepare you for the full blown raging horniness of this moment. He was fucking loving it, in his element, but he was 100% winging it. He had no idea how experienced she was, but she was bold, he would give her that.

Despite the burning need to explode in his pants, Garreth was gentle as he touched her, his finger probing, sliding in and out in a slow rhythm as she moaned and clutched at him. "Good?" He asked.

"Yes," she whined. Her hand gripped his wrist, her fingers fumbling to hold his. She moved his finger a little, pressing against her and rubbing, an incredibly sexy sound spilled from her mouth. It was fucking filthy, and her hips rolled. "Oh, gods, yes...there, Garreth. Right there."

His eyebrows raised so high in arousal and wonder, he rubbed where she had put him, and watched as she became an absolute mess. He forgot about himself for now, he was transfixed, getting the hang of a rhythm as he swirled and rubbed against her clit. Her face and neck flushed crimson, and the sounds she made, fuck!

She pulled him in for a kiss, and he obliged, their tongues fighting for dominance as she panted and moaned into his mouth. He felt the bite of his own arousal hovering at the edge of his awareness, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold it off. He just worked his finger faster, concentrating on that.

And then, she was gasping, her hand slapping down onto the table top, and he felt her clench madly, juices throbbing out over his hand. She sagged and her held her about the waist. "Are you alright?" He asked.

She sighed, nodding, brushing her hair back from her flushed, sweaty face. "Never better," she gasped.

....*....

The bite of early winter chill stung his cheeks, turning them pink. He adjusted his scarf and held MC closer against him, savouring her warmth. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She rested her head against his chest, her arms wrapped about his waist.

He thought he might be the happiest bloke in the world.

The rush and snap of Quidditch players rushed past and they both looked up. The match was in full swing, Gryffindor winning against Hufflepuff currently. Usually, he would be jumping up and down, hollering his head off, but today he was utterly content to stand and hold the girl he loved.

Leander had mocked him for going soft in the head, but he didn't care. One day, he was going to turn the teasing on him. He would take his mate's mocking quite happily, because this was quite possibly the best feeling in the world.

Well, almost. No, the best, was when they were both naked and holding each other close like this. Since that evening in the potions classroom, he had been unable to keep his hands to himself, addicted to making her fall apart like she had.

And when she returned the favour, or they timed it to jointly release their desire for each other, well...that was just fucking perfect in his eyes.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 6

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 845

Masterlist

Saturday can't come soon enough. I feel like this week has lasted an entire year.

Then it's finally Saturday morning. I'm happy to go to work today, because at the end of the morning shift, you'll be waiting for me. My reward for my work. You won't even mind that I won't have time to change out of my usual clothes - it's a deliberate choice on my end, because you like how I look. You told Nadia about it on Twitter just three days ago.

@MoonShadow_: waarom zijn jongens in boekwinkels altijd zo lekker 😭😭

Which translates to: why are boys in bookstores always so hot

I didn’t realize you were thinking this way, (Y/n). If I'd known, maybe I would have made a move already.

Candace wasn't nearly this hard to read.

Candace wouldn't have been worth all this waiting, though.

I'm not ashamed to admit that Candace was a wrong choice. I thought I saw something in her that wanted to be known by me, to be taken care of, but I was wrong. You, on the other hand, are unknown to almost everyone except your dear childhood friend. It must be so lonely. But when you're with me, you won't have to be alone anymore.

Ethan notices I'm distracted today, but he doesn't say anything about it. He's happy to take over the regular customer service duties if it means I'll run up and down the basement stairs carrying heavy books from eight to twelve. Ethan is the kind of guy who swears by a Kindle.

You'd never use a Kindle, would you? I can't imagine it. You buy books way too often to bother about something as asinine as digital reading.

Maybe if I tell you the Kindle is everything that's wrong with modern-day America, you'll laugh and agree with me. But then again, maybe you'll just think I'm a ‘gatekeeping dick’. That's what you called someone on Twitter when they said The Secret History was awful and that only insufferable, snobbish, self-absorbed, classist rich kids would ever think to read this shit. Don't kill me, (Y/n), but I kind of agree with the guy. One day you'll see my side.

I kind of agree with you too, though: the world needs to learn how to read again, it doesn't matter where they start.

I used to judge people for what they bought at Mooney's, but now I don’t anymore. At least they're reading. You're making me a better person that way. You're making me realize that even if people are just reading whatever bullshit they saw on TikTok, at least they're reading.

It's one pm, and you're late. I'm not too upset about it, though. You texted me about an hour ago.

YOU: omigod joe!!!

YOU: my boss is super pissed i forgot to send a client this important email

YOU: i gotta fix my mistake i might be like

YOU: 15 mins late

ME: Don't worry. Take your time.

YOU: 😅

I didn't reply to your smiley. What on earth am I meant to say to a picture of a smiling face? Besides, a smiley isn't worth nearly as much as your actual smile.

And there you are.

Only ten minutes late. It could have been worse.

You look flushed like maybe you ran here, and your hair is a mess so you've covered it with a beanie again, but you also look so happy to see me. I'm happy to see you, too.

You hug me.

“I'm so sorry,” you say. I'm not sure what you're apologising for, because I'm still trying to get over the fact that you hugged me. “I've had such a crazy morning.”

“You're not even that late,” I assure you, which is true. Candace used to be hours late, sometimes. Sometimes she didn't show up at all. “Do you mind giving me a minute? I want to wash my hands and stuff.”

I don't need a minute. I've been ready to leave for a while now. But I think you might need some time, and I can tell you won't ask for it.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “No problem.”

So I turn and I head to the bathroom. This means leaving you alone with Ethan, which may be risky. Ethan might say something stupid, or something about me. But then again, I don't think he'd ruin ‘getting some tail’ for me.

In the bathroom, I wash my hands and check my hair. I look how I always do after a shift at Mooney's, but I think that's fine.

You look beautiful, (Y/n). It's too soon to tell you something like that, but you do.

I emerge. You look calmer now. You're waiting in the office - Ethan must have let you in - sitting with your hands behind your head and your feet on the table. Stretched like that, I can see a bit of the skin above your jean shorts.

It's deliberate. You're taunting me.

“Hey,” you say. “All ready?”

You're wearing make-up. You don't usually wear make-up.

“All ready,” I agree.

[lostgracestories]

... Yeah, that brain train is chugging along. But Enemies to Lovers! I'm a sucker for that trope!

Anyhoo, what might your headcanons be for Enemies to Lovers, regarding - of course - the Omen Twins? 😅

My loyal omen obsessed pookie <3 I too am obsessed with enemies to lovers. Honestly, I think it's hard to imagine Mohg as an enemy (my cutie patootie <3) so I shall do my best. You know damn well I be eating up the Morgott/Tarnished enemies to lovers shit.

Anyways, I'm writing this is class so BEAR WITH ME <333 (I lowkey shifted into story mode again so eat it up loveys <3) SORRY NOT SORRY

wc: 808 tw: Mohg being obsessed with blood, violence, gore, Morgott being a pervert, is it 18+ if it's implied? idk

Sour Yet o, so Sweet

Mohg

Mohg had fought you tooth and nail, cutting you down each and every time you persistently rose from that ridiculous site of grace outside his mausoleum. Every time he caught the scent of your blood it drove him mad, his blood boiled. You had rambled about his dynasty being a sham, questioning his motives. He hated it. He hated you.

After a fight that had resulted in you above him, blade to his neck, his heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he gazed up at you. For a moment, he had forgotten that you were about to kill him. Mohg had to steel his wits before he just barely scraped by, knocking you down once more. Oh, he hated that feeling. He loathed how it felt to just look at you. putrid little dove...

Mohg found himself shocked when his chest began to ache in your absence. It had been months since you had attempted to fight him and knock him down. You had come so close. Mohg paced around, distraught over the feeling that was wrecking his psyche. He needed to fight you. Needed to see you. He needed to scent your blood, over and over as he pinned you beneath him... Oh... such a bittersweet feeling...

When Mohg saw you standing in front of him again, ready to fight after months of being apart, he was furious. How could you leave him? His putrid little dove... how dare you abandon him like you had. The fight was heated. Mohg rambled mindlessly over how vile you were, how much he hated you, and how dare you leave him for so long. The last comment caught you off guard and you stumbled back. He pinned your wrists against the floor as he loomed over you and for the first time, no one struck the other. No one tried to kill the other. Mohg watched the confused expression on your face as his face bent closer. "My putrid little dove" He'd snarl "What have you done to me" He would revel in the scream you let out as he sunk his fangs into you, if only to smell that sweet scent of your blood... Oh, how he hated you... but he loved it so much.

Morgott

Morgott could not stand you. How you rambled to him every time you came before him at the base of the erdtree. He loathed those wide doe eyes you gave him every time he sunk his shiny golden blades into your skin. He hated the noise that you let out, a faint whimper, as death took you over and over and over again. He wished you would just give up and quit your fruitless attempts at bringing forth an era of peace. He would be damned if he allowed you to destroy all he had left.

When you stopped coming before him to fight him, at first, Morgott was relieved. No more rambling about how cruel the world was and how you sought to fix it, no more wide doe eyes looking up at him, wet with tears... would you look that way for him? No, absolutely not. He would not dare to venture down such a degenerate spiral of thoughts and yet... he could not help but indulge himself in such thoughts.

As soon as you stood before Morgott again, something in the air between you had changed. Morgott did not lunge at you this time, he did not conjure any incanted weapons, and most curiously; his tail seemed to swish behind him... calmly. You refused to strike him if he did not attack first, he knew this, he was manipulating you accordingly.

You could not gauge how long you stood there until you realized that the look in Morgott's eye was hungry as he studied you from a safe distance. He was not scared of you, rather, he was scared of himself. What had befallen him to bring him to such degeneracy? Such thinking had no place in his mind. Not as a king and certainly not as an omen.

Morgott's hungry eyes wandered over your stomach and he imagined those wide doe eyes, staring up at him in shock as blood soaked his hand and incanted golden blade. The thought sent a prickle through his tail and up his spine, his blood boiling and running cold all at once. "Thou art a vile little seductress" he would claim, to your confusion, as he finally strode toward you, golden blade in hand. Perhaps, one more look at those big, wet eyes would ground him, pull him down from your ridiculous capture around his mind. Oh he hated you, loathed you. He wished you would stay dead and quit haunting his nightmares. Yet... the feeling that bubbled in his chest with the thought of you, despite it's ache, was so addicting... what a cruel fate...

[hes-striker]

Oh well.....shit. 😅

The quiet hum of the car was punctuated only by Striker’s occasional groans as Blitzø drove them back to his apartment. Blitzø gripped the steering wheel tightly, his face set in a mask of fury and worry. Striker slumped in the passenger seat, the lingering effects of the sedation keeping him groggy and unsteady.

Blitzø: *muttering under his breath* Stupid-ass doctors… gonna burn that hospital to the ground…

Striker: *hoarsely* Blitz… where we goin’?

Blitzø: *glancing at him* Home. You’re gonna rest, and we’re gonna figure this shit out. Don’t worry about it.

Striker gave a weak grunt in response, his head lolling against the window.

When they finally reached the apartment, Blitzø hoisted Striker out of the car with practiced ease, carrying him up the stairs. Striker, still groggy, muttered faint protests, but Blitzø ignored him, too focused on getting inside.

As Blitzø fumbled with the keys, the door swung open, revealing Stolas standing in the entryway. He was dressed in his usual flowing robes, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Blitzø carrying Striker, who was clearly worse for wear.

Stolas: *concerned* Blitzy, what happened? Why are you carrying him?

Blitzø pushed past him into the living room, setting Striker down gently on the couch. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rising anger before launching into an explanation.

Blitzø: *snapping* What happened? Oh, I’ll tell you what happened! These dumbass doctors at Hell’s ‘best hospital’ screwed up so bad I could scream!

Stolas: *confused and alarmed* What do you mean? Is he hurt?

Blitzø: *turning to face Stolas, his voice rising* Hurt? No, but he’s got Infernal Bloom Disease! And those idiots— *he gestured wildly, pacing the room* —they went and stuck embryos into him like it was no big deal! Embryos that aren’t even his! They’re ours! Because they’re dumb as shit and thought he was you!

Stolas froze, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Stolas: *stammering* Wait… what? Infernal Bloom? Our embryos? How… how did this happen?!”

Blitzø: *still pacing* I don’t know, Stolas! Maybe it’s because half their staff was too busy munching on candy bars to actually do their jobs! *He stopped, pointing at Striker, who was half-conscious on the couch.* They sedated him, and the next thing we know, they’re shoving our embryos into him! He nearly stopped breathing, Stolas. I had to carry him out before they could kill him for real.

Stolas: *looking horrified, his hands fluttering nervously* Oh, dear… This is… this is catastrophic! How could they—Infernal Bloom Disease is incredibly dangerous, and to implant embryos into someone with it—

Blitzø: *cutting him off* Exactly! They didn’t even check his records! It’s like they were playing doctor for fun!

Stolas stepped closer to Striker, his expression shifting from shock to concern. He crouched beside the couch, gently placing a hand on Striker’s shoulder.

Stolas: *softly* Striker, can you hear me?

Striker: *grumbling weakly* Barely… but if I gotta listen to Blitz rant much longer, I might ask for another dose of that sedative…

Blitzø: *snapping* Oh, don’t even joke about that! I’m trying to save your ass, cowboy!

Stolas: *sighing, turning back to Blitzø* We need to take this seriously, Blitzy. Infernal Bloom is a slow but devastating disease. And if what you’re saying is true… *he hesitated, his voice trembling slightly* A pregnancy… will only make things worse.

Blitzø: *softly* Yeah, I know. But what the hell are we supposed to do? I’m not exactly a doctor, and I don’t trust any of those hacks at the hospital.

Stolas: *thinking quickly* We’ll need to find a specialist—someone who understands Infernal Bloom and its effects. But for now, we need to make sure Striker is stable.

Blitzø glanced at Striker, who was half-asleep but breathing steadily. He felt a pang of guilt, his anger dissolving into worry.

Blitzø: *quietly* Fine. But I’m not letting him out of my sight until we know what’s going on. He’s been through enough.

Stolas: *nodding solemnly* Agreed. Let’s work together on this, Blitzy. We’ll find a way to help him—and deal with this... unusual situation.

Blitzø sank onto the armrest of the couch, rubbing his temples.

Blitzø: *muttering* Yeah, well, if this is what teamwork looks like, I’m not signing up for the next round.

Striker let out a weak chuckle, his voice barely above a whisper.

Striker: You’re both lucky I’m too drugged up to punch anyone right now…

[moe-broey]

Okay actually this concept might actually kill me before it ever sees the light of day, so I'm handing it over sloppy style

Okay. So we have The Pieces. We have The Visual Storytelling. We have The Themes. And BECAUSE this hypothetical piece would be SO HEAVY in all the little things I want to articulate with it, knowing that in general, most times people are just passing by on Tumblr dot com (which is fine!). I got the idea to get Interactive about it. That, I would break down each piece, but instead of solely info-dumping, I would set it up like point and click narration/dialogue.

Which led to a few things!!! Such as:

Mani speaking in second person, at Moe. Whenever Mani speaks, it's taking control of the situation. Maybe not always to a dangerous degree, but always... protective. Whenever Moe is uncomfortable, whenever it would rather avoid speaking on the subject, Mani takes over. It creates a layer of separation, for Moe, allowing it a little more room to just breathe. Uh, hold on a minute -- what was that about danger, again? It's... helping Moe, right? Surely, this would never lead to any disastrous outcomes if pushed far enough... surely.....

Then, you have a sudden POV shift into first person. This is Moe speaking freely, directly. The voices are very similar, here... sometimes they are, sometimes they aren't. This is Moe's inner monologue, though. Which, sometimes... doesn't always match up to its spoken words, for a variety of reasons, really. Not too relevant in this specific piece, but noteworthy aspect of its character in general!

Then!!! Sometimes you have a statement, devoid of any point of view. You really can't tell which is speaking, here. I'll spoil what this specific line is about, for further context -- Lulu and Clyde are cats! Litter mates, even! Adopted as a set...

(note. There is no pet death, but this is a Chekhov's gun moment. File that away for later. ... If, "later", comes to be.)

... I got a little bit distracted and rambled off another post, but. I think you get the jist of it. IF THIS DOESN'T KILL ME. BADLY. It would be a really cool storytelling exercise!!!! 😅

[lostinwildflowers]

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: On a quieter day out in the fields, you suggest cooling off in the creek. Arthur isn't so sure about it until you get a little... wild.

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: me not knowing anything about RDR2 but trying my best, fluff, suggestive themes, mentions of undressing, implied feelings and thoughts, some mutual pining

A/N: Hey y'all!! This is for my lovely dear and amazing bestie @bluebellhairpin for being an absolute sweetheart. I know about 0 things about RDR2 but I tried my best so please be kind😅 -Birch<3

It was an unusually warm day out in the west, the trails rocky and red with the stain of the harsh dirt. The landscape was ethereal, with large mountains diving into deep gorges on either side, opening into the wide valley where you were riding.

The valley was your current home, with fields of wispy green grasses and low-hanging brush. There were trees near the edges of the fields, and large pines that had been there for generations.

It was a warm day, and a windy one too. The sun was beating down on you and Arthur, making a sheen of sweat build up on your brow.

The wind whipped through the valley, making the only sounds audible those of the trees and grass rustling, and the faint whisper of a creek trickling in the background.

The sound of your horse walking underfoot was almost mute to you, as hours spent in the saddle made you accustomed to the four-beat walk of your horse across the rough terrain.

Bourbon, your trusty bay stud horse, was also enjoying the day. His neck was low, walking quietly behind Boadicea, his black tail flicking off flies casually. The sun beating down left his brown haircoat curled with sweat on his neck and under his mane, but he didn't seem to mind.

You reach down and pet him on the neck with your free hand as you mumble, "Just a little longer, we're coming up on some water soon." Arthur was just ahead of you, determined to lead until he was sure it was safe enough to take a break.

The call of a hawk overhead snaps your eyes to the sky, your straw cowboy hat blocking most of the sun's bright rays. Your (colored) eyes lock onto the conglomerate of crows and hawks circling in the sky, your brows wrinkling as you try to locate what they're hovering over.

"Arthur," you call wearily, "There's some birds up ahead, might need to be on the lookout for bears."

You see him just wave his hand in acknowledgment, and you roll your eyes before you kick Bourbon into a trot, veering off to the side of the small deer trail where the two of you had been scouting.

You sit deep into your saddle as you climb up the small hill, squinting as you look for the kill the birds were waiting for. Bourbon looks attentively ahead, his feet shifting nervously under you as your gaze locks onto the carcass of a dead cow elk in the dip below you.

You can hear a gruff call from Arthur behind you, but you ignore him as you spot a thin coyote chewing on the exposed and worn bones. You turn your head and say, "It's just a 'yote, we should still stay aware though."

When you turn over your shoulder to see if he heard you, Arthur is waiting at the bottom of the small hill, a frown on his face as he grumbles, "Well, I was gon' tell ya we could see that kill just up ahead. But you ain't never listen to me."

At that, he turns and heads back up the trail, aiming for the sound of the faint water in the distance. Your gaze trails after him, and you feel hot, your pearl snap shirt feeling heavy against your skin. And it wasn't because of the sun.

Bourbon was still dancing under your feet at the sight of the wild dog, and you scan the small field again to keep an eye out for any other large predators. Where there was one, more would certainly follow.

You see, Arthur and the rest of your crew were getting ready to move camps, with your current spot only being for overnight as you headed south slowly toward Valentine.

Dutch and the others were still north at Colter, so you and Arthur were out trying to find the best way to get south without being noticed. Thus, you had to spend some warm hours in the saddle, locating the best resources and safest places to travel while staying stealthy.

You and Arthur both decided to just take your horses and leave the wagon for now, as you didn't think it would take you very long. You see, you were a master of the land. You knew every type of plant, the color of every rock, bird, and meat, and which berries were safe to eat. You were a true survivalist, and that's why Arthur kept you around.

It wasn't the only reason, but Arthur definitely saw your strengths in the group, which led him to his current predicament- being alone with you. Not only were you an asset to the group, but you were also gorgeous.

After leaving Eliza, he was set on never showing emotion again, rather keeping to his business and leaving feelings out of the mix. But when you showed up, with Dutch smiling and talking to you, he knew he was going to be in for it.

With your braids of (colored) hair and gleaming (colored) eyes, Arthur knew he wasn't going to be able to make it work. And what was worse, is that you were sweet. Just a truly kind-hearted individual who cared deeply about the others around you.

As you gazed out across the valley, you didn't catch Arthur's glance toward you, noting the way your hair curled around the edges of your hat. Even the way your tan and burgundy striped pearl snap shirt clung to every part of you, he knew that you could seduce a man.

He hated the way he felt toward you because he knew he had messed up in the past. He knew he couldn't do that to you, you were too good for the life he lived.

You turned Bourbon to follow him back up the path as you grumbled, "That sucker thinks he knows better than me 'bout what's out here." Little did you know, Arthur heard you and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lip at your sass.

"Water's up ahead, Y/n/n," he calls over his shoulder, the nickname flowing off of his tongue before he could stop it. He feels a pang run through him as silence fills the air, but he doesn't dare turn around to look at you.

But you were just taking a drink from your canteen, and you froze in place at his words. Bourbon stops as your body stills, and Arthur just barely rides out of sight as you process what he said.

Y/n/n? Is he alright? Whatever, I need to refill my canteen, you think to yourself. You shove the bottle into your pack on the back of your cantle, petting Bourbon on the neck as you trot up the trail after him.

"Lookin' pretty clear to me," you state breathlessly as you break to a walk next to him, panting from the heat of the sun. Your (colored) gaze lands on his face, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at seeing his handsome features.

Even with sweat on his brow and grime on his hands, he never looked better. He had cuffed his sleeves and rolled them up his forearms, exposing the thick muscle.

His hair was longer, and while tangled from the wind and not having been washed in a few days, it still looked soft. His eyes were always masked with emotion so you could never tell what he was thinking, but over time you've learned some of his small intricacies.

You could see the water up ahead, and you shoot Arthur a wide grin as you cut Boadicea off with Bourbon, sliding in front of him as he yelled, "Aye! What're you thinking woman-" "Just live a little, Arthur!" you call over your shoulder, loud giggles falling from your lips as you rush up to the widening creek.

You swing your leg off of your horse, stepping down onto the ground, the thin leather of your shotgun chaps brushing against the red dirt. You pull your reins down from Bourbon's neck, giving him a gentle pat as you grab his halter from your saddle.

You pull his bridle off and slip his halter on, hanging the bridle over your saddle horn before leading him to the water. You can hear Arthur behind you, and when you turn around to look at him, you catch his eye.

He's still sitting on Boadicea, watching you intently. You crack a crooked grin and hum out, "You see something you like, Arth?" You laugh as a frown covers his face, and he turns to get off of his mare as you snicker to yourself.

This is how it usually went, you did most of the talking, and you laughed at his reactions. Bourbon happily drank from the stream as your eyes scanned the banks of the water on the other side, no predators in sight.

Arthur leads Boadicea next to Bourbon, also having slipped her bridle off and letting her drink. Your giggles settle down as you let out a happy sigh, combing through Bourbon's black mane as he finished swallowing.

Once both horses were content with their levels of thirst, you lead them to a nearby tree, loosely tying them so they could nibble at the grass.

You turn around to tell Arthur to fill up his water jugs, but your mouth closes at the sight of him. He had undone the top few buttons of his shirt and was crouched down by the edge of the water. In his right hand was his hat, tucking it close to his chest while his left hand dipped into the water, scooping it up to splash on his face and neck.

Heat flooded over you, almost like a wave of nausea. In an instant, your chaps were way too warm, and you go to start unbuckling them. You feel almost itchy after having looked at him like that, so you try to focus on getting your chaps off.

You unsnap the sides and sigh at the feeling of what seemed like cooler air rushing into your slightly damp jeans, before unclasping it at the belt.

Arthur watched you from the corner of his eye, and he felt his throat drying up at the sight of you. He swore it was just the heat from the sun coming down stronger, but he couldn't deny it. You looked good.

Once your chaps hit the ground and you could take a breath again, you say, "We should refill the water jugs." Arthur nods and stands up with a quiet, "Yeah, go 'head and grab 'em."

You nod in return, turning your back to him to grab the canteens and jugs off of the horses' saddles. In his head, Arthur fought everything in him to not glance at the curve of your waist and hips.

You had this natural sway about you, and as you bent over to grab a bottle you dropped, Arthur cursed to whatever higher power there was that he couldn't tell you what he was thinking. A moment later you appear in front of him, a soft smile on your lips as you hand him a couple of the bottles, your arms completely full.

"Sorry," you mutter as one bottle slips from your hands again, and you reach down to grab it before all of the bottles tumble to the ground. A few choice words fall from your lips, and as you grasp at one, Arthur's hand grabs at it too.

For a moment, all you can think of is the feeling of his rough hand on yours, and you cease motion. You look away from the bottles to meet his eyes, and you find he's already looking at you.

"Y/n/n," he whispers, so close to you. You can feel his warm breath hitting your face, and despite the heat of the day, you can't bring yourself to care.

"Arth..." you reply, butterflies erupting in your belly at the intensity of his gaze. You're snapped out of the moment when Bourbon starts coughing behind you and you feel even more warmth across your face as you snatch the bottle and stand up.

"Sorry Arthur, I'm such a clutz," you say neutrally, grabbing another bottle before heading down to the water, glad your straw hat covered the expression on your face; horror.

He doesn't reply, but he throws his own cowboy hat on the ground behind you before grabbing the other bottles and crouching down to fill them. You could practically feel the heat waves and tension kissing in the air, but neither of you said anything.

You finish filling the bottles and carefully take them back to the saddles, putting them in the packs and taking a deep breath. What on earth is wrong with me? What did I think he was gonna do?

You try to brush it off the best you can, hanging your hat over the top of your bridle on Bourbon's saddle, doing the same with your chaps. As you try to cool off, a mischievous idea comes over you.

Arthur had put his canteen back on his saddle and had reached into one of his packs to grab his leather notebook. He plopped down on the other side of the tree from where the horses were, quiet as could be.

You do your best to ignore him, and as you get to the edge of the water, you start taking off your boots. Then your socks. Then goes your belt. And right as you start to undo the buttons to your pearl snaps you hear Arthur.

"What're you doin'?" It's a simple question, no malice in his voice. You smile but don't turn around to face him. "Cooling off," is all you say in return as you undo another button.

"Y/n/n, you better watch yourself," you hear this time. It's a little more firm, but you still don't turn around. A second later, you let the material of your shirt float down your arms before it joins the pile of clothes on the ground.

You don't see it, but Arthur's blue gaze is locked on your figure. He wants to look away, he wants to give you the privacy you deserve, the respect you deserve as a lady. But he can't.

"Y/n..." you hear again, but this time it's lower. Deeper. And more... well, intense. You keep going though, undoing the buttons to your jeans and shimmying out of them.

You're left in just your undergarments, and you can't help but feel the air whizzing around you. It feels electric from the burning of the sun, but also because you know he's watching you. Taking in every freckle, dimple, and curve of your body.

He's never seen this much of you, and you aren't sure why you felt so bold, but you take a cautious barefoot step forward and into the water. You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips as your toes submerge in the cool water, and a giggle follows a moment afterward.

You take a few more cautious steps, and you don't hear anything else from Arthur. Once you're about waist-deep into the water, that's when you turn around.

And for once, Arthur's eyes aren't on you. A pang hits you in the gut. You aren't sure if it's disappointment, relief, or what, but all you can think of is how foolish you feel at that moment.

That's until you realize what he's doing. You had seen him grab his notebook, yes, but you didn't know what he was going to write. Except he wasn't writing at all.

His thick fingers were wrapped around a small pencil, where you could see him scratching out long, smooth strokes. Your brow furrowed in confusion at his movements, and that's when his eyes meet yours.

"Turn back around," he calls, the faintest smirk on his lips as he chewed at a toothpick he had kept in his shirt pocket. You cock your head and reply, "Ya see something you like?"

The words you had said earlier hung heavy in the air for a second, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you awaited his response.

"Maybe I do," is his response. You blink in surprise and swallow thickly at the implication of his words. Yet, you do as he says, and turn back around.

You reach down into the water with your hands, letting the dirt run off of your fingers and into the creek. You then splash a little on your face, brushing the hair out of your eyes and letting the water cool you and your mind down.

You'd never let yourself be this vulnerable in front of Arthur before, but now you just couldn't stop yourself. Something about being with him, out in the fields with your horses put you at ease.

A few minutes go by, with just the sound of the birds tweeting and the water crackling over rocks hanging in the air. You peer over your shoulder, and when you look at Arthur, he's watching.

The notebook he had been sketching in sat closed on his lap, and a wave of embarrassment ran over you. He'd just been sitting there, admiring you. Not in a creepy or predatory type of way, but simply a man enjoying the beauties of the world around him.

You turn to face him, but as you do so, you completely lower yourself into the water, wetting your hair down to the scalp. When you straighten up, you stay submerged with just the points of your collarbones showing.

"Thinking about joining me?" you ask quietly, a chill running up your spine, but not because of the water. This elicits a laugh from Arthur, a sound you don't get to hear very often.

"Darlin', you're testing me," he chuckles, looking down and flopping the notebook from his lap to the ground next to him. A wide grin slips onto your face as you reply, "Am I? I think you might just want to cool off too, Arth. It's been a warm day."

His gaze every so slightly darkens, and his jaw clenches. It was taking everything in him to not jump up, run over to you, and tell you everything he wanted to do to you. Yet he simply takes a deep breath and says, "Someone's gotta keep watch."

You nod and stand up straight, the water pouring off of you, and you see Arthur's eyes travel from your face, down your body, and back up. You don't say anything as you walk out of the water, heading straight toward him.

He stands up the second you're completely out of the water, and once you're standing in front of him, he takes a deep breath and tries to be respectful with his gaze. Pieces of his dirty blonde hair fall out of place as he looks down at you, and you can't help but feel exposed under his watch.

"Someone's gotta keep watch, right?" you whisper. He nods once as his eyes rake over your face and he mumbles, "Right." You also nod once, taking another half-step forward so you're practically touching him.

"How's the view?" you ask quietly, your eyes blinking slowly up at him, a shaky breath falling from your lips. Arthur locks eyes with you as his right hand gradually comes up to sit on your waist, his fingers gentle and warm against your now cool skin.

He reaches up to his mouth to pluck the toothpick from it, throwing it in the grass behind him without breaking eye contact. Then, with that same hand, he brushes a piece of hair out of your eyes, slicking the wet lock behind your ear.

"I've never seen anything this gorgeous in my life," he whispers. You swallow thickly as you continue to gaze up at him, your heart pounding louder and louder in your chest.

You couldn't think of anything smart to say, so all you can mumble is, "Well, is that so?" Arthur smiles lightly as he catches onto your nerves and he whispers, "Yes ma'am. The most beautiful view I've ever seen."

You find yourself leaning into him, your eyes half-lidded as his grip on you tightened. You can hear one of the horses snort behind you, and as your eyes flick to the noise, Arthur's hand moves to cup your cheek.

His touch brings your gaze back to meet his own blue one, and once again your name falls from his lips, "Y/n, I-" He pauses, his grip on you still firm, but his eyes uncertain.

"What is it, Arth?" you whisper, your features softening. Arthur could hardly speak, with you in his arms, the day warm and your skin cool, he didn't think he could move.

He sighs, his eyes shutting for a few moments before they reopen, and when they take in your face again, he knows.

"I love you."

You don't even blink at his words, you don't change anything about the way you stare up at him. And for a moment, Arthur thinks he's messed up. He thinks he's read the entire situation wrong, that is until giggles start falling from your lips.

A snort escapes your mouth, and he doesn't seem to find it funny. You lean into his chest, belly laughing, and Arthur doesn't know what to do, so he just holds you closer to him as he mutters in your ear, "What's so funny?"

Giggles are still coming from you as you straighten up and say, "I can't believe it took me taking my clothes off for you to tell me that." Arthur groans and goes to release you, but you stop him.

Instead, your hands find each side of the collar of his shirt, and you pull him down into a sweet, wet kiss. The droplets of creek water are still running down your cheeks, but neither of you seems to mind as you pull him toward you.

Arthur goes to wrap both arms around your waist, changing the angle of the kiss to deepen it. His nose brushes against yours, and he can't help but feel like he'd finally died and gone to heaven.

You're the one to pull back first, with a wide grin on your face. You flatten the collar of his shirt before you regain eye contact with him and say, "But I love you too."

His lips come crashing into yours again, pulling you flat against his chest. A small moan escapes your lips as he kisses you, but you could care less. All you were thinking about was the feeling of Arthur against you, and how you never wanted it to stop.

This time, he's the one to pull back, and when you flutter your eyes open to look at him, he smiles. You smile back and quickly lean in to place a small peck on his lips.

It's quiet for a moment before you ask, "What was it you were drawing?" He sighs with a chuckle and replies, "Oh darlin', just the best view I've ever seen."

You giggle once as you lean in and whisper against his lips, "Oh really?" He chuckles too and closes the kiss with a small 'uh huh'.

Needless to say, you weren't getting back to the crew until it was pitch black out, but the feeling of Arthur's lips against your own made any question in your mind lay to rest.

And rather than setting up with the rest of the group for the evening like normal, you found yourself laying next to Arthur instead.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Tickletober Day 11: Hugs

Fandom: Star Wars (Rebels)

Pairing: Ezra and Kanan (platonic)

Summary: All Ezra did was give Kanan a hug.

(Setting is in Season 2 ❤️ :) And I realize this may go slightly against cannon that actually happened in the show ❤️😅 For those that don't know or remember, in Season 2, Rex and his crew from the Clone Wars make an appearance and clones killed Kanan's master when he was still a young Padawan named Caleb Dume ❤️:) Also in Season 2, Ezra finds out his parents died when they tried to escape from prison after they were taking by the Empire ❤️:) Other things happened in between those two events and after those two events, but they were the two I was referring to the most in the fic ❤️:))

Kanan sat on the floor of his room in the Phantom. After everything that had happened in such a short period of time, all the painful memories of the past he had tried to bury had come back up to the surface. Flashes of people and places appeared in his mind. In his ears, snippets of voices and sounds just as fresh as the day they happened echoed loudly over his racing heart.

He just needed some time to collect himself before he saw anyone else.

A soft knock came from his door. "Kanan?"

The taller Jedi sighed. "What is it Ezra?"

"Can I come in?"

Kanan paused for a second before using the force to unlock his door.

Ezra stepped into the darkened room. "You okay?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know." The teen sat down beside his master. "You've just been quieter than normal lately. I wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Hate to break it to you, but I do. We all do."

Kanan's lips pulled up at the corners.

". . . Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Ezra shrugged. "We don't have to, but it might help you if you did."

Kanan huffed out a chuckle. "Since when did you get so mature?"

"I have a great Master," the teen added.

Both Master and Padawan sat in silence. After so much time together, Kanan felt comfortable letting Ezra in on a few things that had happened to him over his lifetime. Other times, it just felt nice to sit in silence together.

That's when Kanan sensed a shift in Ezra's emotions through their bond. He turned to the teen. "Are you okay?"

Ezra looked up. "Hm? Yeah, I'm fine."

Kanan kept an eye on Ezra as the teen brought his knees up to his chest. "I'm here if you want to talk, but we don't have to if you're not up to it."

"I'm okay, I promise. Just . . . missing them."

Kanan knew who he was talking about. He gently squeezed the teen's shoulder. "I'm missing someone too."

". . . Does it ever get any easier?"

"Eventually. It just takes some time."

Both sides fell quiet. They weren't uncomfortable. They were both just working through some things in each other's company.

A moment later, the teen wrapped his Master in a hug.

Kanan tensed in surprise before his arms finally returned the hug. "It's okay. We'll get there."

"I hope so."

Kanan hoped so too. He just didn't say that part out loud.

As the taller Jedi rubbed his hand up and down his Padawan's back, he noticed a subtle tensing of muscles and a spike in emotions when his fingers accidentally hit the teen's shoulder blades.

The emotions weren't fear and panic like Kanan first thought they were. Instead, they were nervousness and a little of happiness. Once the taller Jedi realized what they were, a light clicked on.

Ezra must have picked up on Kanan's knowledge of his emotional change because he immediately tried to mental block him.

"Nice tryhy." Kanan teased as he now purposefully dragged his fingers around Ezra's shoulder blades. "I felt that."

The teen tried to pull out of the hug. "No! Wait!"

Kanan paused, but still kept the teen trapped in a hug. "Why?"

Ezra continued squirming. "You know whyhy!"

"Uh-huh." Kanan reached down to squeeze along Ezra's side. "And you see why I have to continue?"

"No!" The teen then broke into loud laughter and bent in half.

However, despite his best efforts to get out of the hold, Kanan managed to keep up with Ezra's movements. "You think you can get away from me?"

Ezra grappled with Kanan's wrists. "Yehes!"

"Good luck." Kanan spidered up to the teen's ribs. "Cause I'm not letting up anytime soon."

The newer spot made Ezra's laugh reach a higher pitch.

"So ribs ahare yohour weak point?"

The teen snorted in reply.

Kanan chuckled. "I take thahat ahas aha yes."

As the taller Jedi continued his attack, Ezra managed to get one squeeze of his own on Kanan's side.

The taller Jedi jumped back.

A moment later, Ezra turned and tackled his Master to the floor. His smaller fingers immediately latched onto Kanan's sides.

"Ah! Ehezraha!"

"Can't handle what you dihish ohout?" The teen teased as he started spidering his fingers lower.

Kanan fought to grab his Padawan's wrists. Especially when the teen reached his hips. Finally, he managed to grab onto Ezra's wrists before rolling them both across the floor.

Both Master and Padawan landed and immediately Ezra tried to scramble away.

However, Kanan's longer limbs allowed him to catch him easily. "Gotcha!"

"Ah! Noho!" Ezra quickly rolled onto his back before pulling his arms up in front of himself for protection.

Kanan playfully fought with the teen's arms. "Get back hehere yohou!"

"Noho!"

"What on Earth---?"

Both Kanan and Ezra froze.

Standing in the doorway was Hera. "I can hear you two down the hall."

Kanan pulled his hands back. "Sorry Love."

The Twilek pilot raised an eyebrow. "What are you two even doing in here?"

"Just . . ." Ezra looked between Kanan and Hera. "Training."

Hera shook her head, but couldn't hide the smile on her face. "Well can you two keep your 'training' session down just a bit? I need to be able to hear while I'm working on the console."

"Sure thing love," Kanan assured her.

"We will," Ezra added.

"Thank you." Hera turned. "Have fun 'training'."

When the two believed the Twilek pilot was gone, Kanan spoke up first with the tease, "You are pretty loud."

Ezra gave his Master a shove. "That was your fault!"

"I don't control your volume."

"But you were tickling me!"

"Were?" Kanan attacked Ezra's sides. "Who said we were done?"

The teen immediately broke back into laughter. "Yohou're such aha jeherk!"

"Carefuhul, dohon't want Hera to hear you."

"Shut uhup!"

While the two bickered back and forth once more, they were unaware of the mentioned Twilek pilot lingering just off to the side of Kanan's door. It warmed her heart to hear laughter pouring out into the halls of her ship. They all had been through a lot recently so if a tickle "training" session let those two relax, then she wouldn't intervene.

With a smile on her face, Hera finally turned back toward her cockpit.

[goldenivy0]

Oooh what time is it? That's right! It's time to raaaaamble!

Top 3 most shocking moments to me in the ACOTAR series 😂 (in the sense that I was not expecting these things to happen at all):

Feel free to tell me yours ;)

1ST PLACE

His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate."

Finding out that Elain and Lucien are mates. This moment deserves the first place without a doubt. I was NOT expecting that in the slightest and now they are my acotar OTP ehehe 🧡. Quick note: Because we couldn't have had this moment without the sisters being taken to Hybern that night, I think I should give an honorable mention to that scene here too. I'm not going to give that moment a place in this top 3 but I won't pretend that I was waiting for that to happen either. When Elain and Nesta appeared in that room only to end up being thrown into the Cauldron I was shocked!! I was like "Ariana... what are you doing here?" 😅

2ND PLACE

“I knew,” it gasped, sensing my shift in thoughts. “The tracking … I knew of it.”

“Then why come at all?”

“You … were kind. You … fought your fear. You were … kind,” it said again.

The freaking Suriel dying 😭 (killed by Ianthe of all people, I hate her so much 😤, for everything she did).

3RD PLACE

While we spoke, I said down the bond, "Helion is Lucien’s father." Rhys was silent. Then — "Holy burning hell." His shock was a shooting star between us.

Finding out that Lucien isn't Beron's son but Helion's as a result of his secret love affair with LoA. Well, colour me surprised! I found it sus that SJM would always make references to Lucien's skin color and how it was darker than his brothers' but I can't lie, the possibility of Helion being his father never crossed my mind, not even after his introduction at the HLs meeting.

There are so many other unexpected moments and plot twists in the series that I could have chosen from but ultimately I think these are really the three that made my jaw drop the most. However, and inevitably, I cannot help but also make a reference to the moment when we discovered that Jurian was one of the good guys after all and that he was working undercover, or the moment when we realized that it was Papa Archeron who was returning from the continent at the front of the human fleet in a last attempt (and the first in many years too) to help his daughters.

So yeah... CONCLUDING: Not. Expecting. That.

(P.S. I didn't include here the revelation made by the Suriel that Rhys and Feyre were mates nor the moment I read "And Rhys was dead" because I already started the series knowing who Feyre's endgame was and that she would have her happy ending. If that hadn't been the case I might have gaped a little bit at my books in those parts LOL 😆)

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

5 things I like to write about

I was tagged by both @prahacat and @cocotter, thank you both for that 💜.

This is an excellent exercise.

Hmm 🤔 five things I like to write about, 😅 honestly it feels a bit like I'm all over the place with what I like.

I like to write fix it stories. There's just something about fixing what goes so horribly wrong in canon, and there are just so many moments where a small adjustment can change the course of the whole story. It's always a joy to tweak these small and big details and shift the course of the story, it's like a game… plus it gives me the chance to save them all (damn my soft heart)

But the second thing I enjoy to write is major character death (just to totally contradict myself). I just love killing my characters, especially Obi-Wan and Anakin, and maybe it's best not to think about why that might be 🤷. However, there does seem to be a pattern to it when my murderous muse strikes. Something about how sometimes death is preferable to living in suffering or without the ones you love… Oh well, I always make sure to give a warning when I kill.

Thirdly, I always enjoy writing atmusphere, especially nature descriptions. It's just pure pleasure to succeed with a good description, preferably infused with metaphors of various kinds. It's an art form and one that I enjoy both creating and reading (looking at you @prahacat who is a master of long, marvelous, beautiful and amazing descriptions packed with metaphors and symbolism).

Hmm a fourth thing I enjoy working with is short stories. The ones where I leave my readers (and often myself) wondering how it got to that point, what happens after and what's going on? These small, often ambiguous stories are one of my greatest writing joys 😄

And last but not least, I love writing threesomes. It's just and will always be a very, not particularly guilty pleasure. I know exactly why I enjoy this, as the reason is both personal, complicated, but also simple. I enjoy letting more than two characters find joy together, there's just something appealing about this dynamic between three individual characters that never ceases to fascinate me.

I think that was five things.

I will tag @underacalicosky @palfriendpatine66 @piecesofeden11 @barmadumet @grapenehifics @willameena @amadwinter and @heretolurkandnothingmore , no pressure of course.